Page 73 of Don't Fall

It takes some more tears and a little bit of time, but we wind up sitting on the floor in the living room, the cake at our center, all three of us carving away at the creamy chocolatey goodness and slurping up the occasional gummy worm.

“I bet I can still get my reservation back,” Drea says, wiping chocolate from the corner of her mouth. “We’ll probably just have to go later than I planned.”

I shake my head. I’ve always wanted to have a special dinner at the Rose Garden, but I imagined it would be romantic and sweet and my own sort of bit of fairy tale. Going on a double date with my best friend, her love and my roommate just doesn’t add up to that fantasy. “I don’t need a fancy dinner, Drea. It’s already a pretty perfect birthday just like this.”

“I agree with Drea,” Lane chimes in. “We should go out. Celebrate properly.”

I can see I’m not going to win this, so I agree to compromise. “Fine. But not the Rose Garden.”

Lane nods. “It’s your birthday, you pick.” It’s weird, his being so accommodating. It’s been weird from the moment he ambushed me out in the hall, but I’m still trying to pretend it’s not because weird Lane is still so much better than no Lane at all.

“The Docks.”

Drea scowls. “The last time I ate there I was puking coconut shrimp for days.”

“Yeah, because you drank a bottle of Malibu rum to go with them,” I remind her. “Maybe stick to water tonight and you won’t have that problem.”

“The Docks. I think that’s the perfect place to go celebrate,” Lane adds thoughtfully, placing his spoon down on the edge of the box.

“You do?” I mean, obviously I think it is.

“Yeah.” He stretches his legs out in front of him, leaning back against the side of the recliner. “Live music, good food and a fun vibe. Plus, it’s right on the beach, what’s not to like?”

“The coconut shrimp,” Drea mumbles. “But I can see that I’m outnumbered here,” she says, getting up to her feet, “so I’ll go call Scott and let him know dinner is back on, just slightly relocated.”

Lane and I both watch her leave and close the door behind her.

It’s just us.

“What now, birthday girl?” he asks, an innocent smile on his beautiful face. It should go against nature for a man to be this beautiful.

“It’s time for gifts,” I announce, jumping up to get my bag from where Lane dumped it in my room earlier.

“You remember the part where I was surprised to learn today was your birthday, right?” he calls after me from his spot in the living room.

I walk back in, content satisfaction spreading through me knowing I get to do something that feels really right for the first time in a long while. “It’s not a birthday gift. It’s more like a return to owner gift. Which I guess makes it less of a gift, but it’s my birthday so I can call it whatever I want.” I plop back down, legs crossed and my bag in my lap. It takes a bit of digging around, but I locate my check book. Thankfully, the pen I used last time I wrote a check is still hooked to the inside.

“What are you doing?” he asks, frowning. Apparently, he’s one of very few people in the world who don’t rejoice at the sight of money coming their way.

“Returning your rent money,” I say, writing his name and date on the top. “It’s been a pretty eventful week for me too. While I missed out on the news of your departure as our teacher, I received some unexpected news of my own. Like I have a bank account you’ve been making monthly deposits to.” I finish filling in the blanks and sign it. “Here. Just give me a few days before you cash it. I still have to transfer stuff around.”

He looks confused. “Why are you paying me back my rent money? I’ve been living here this whole time. I don’t care where the rent money goes, I owed it.”

I shake my head. “No, you didn’t. And I can’t keep it. It’s weird. The condo is paid for, it costs me nothing to live here and I wouldn’t charge Drea to stay here with me, why would I charge you?” I shake the check at him, trying to entice him to take it already. “I wouldn’t,” I answer my own question when he’s still hesitating.

“Tess, I appreciate this, but I don’t need this money, and I know you could use it...just keep it. You’re my landlord now, right? We have a lease and everything. It’s totally legit.”

I lean forward and drop it in his unwilling lap. “It doesn’t feel legit. It feels icky. I don’t want icky money. I’ve had enough with the ick.”

“If I take this, you’re letting me pay for your birthday dinner tonight. So I don’t have to feel the ick over not getting you a proper present,” he mocks.

“You may want to take a moment to reconsider. I plan on eating a lot. Appetizers. At least one entree, maybe two. And let’s not forget dessert. I may not want to have to choose, so I might order everything on their menu.” I may sound dramatic, but I’m being quite serious. The last week of starving myself has finally come to an end and my stomach is practically screaming for food. I ate nearly a third of this pudding cake and it barely lined the inside of this empty pit within me.

“I’m fully committed,” he confirms, eyes crinkling at the corners, “order away.”

The worst ever birthday just might turn out to be the best.

Lane

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