Page 92 of It's a Date (Again)

A laugh escapes us.

Maya eyeballs me. “What’s next for you and Tyler?”

“He’s taking me out to dinner on my birthday.”

“Nice.” She smiles.

Debbie holds a finger up. “Oh, that reminds me. I got something for you.” She disappears inside her home for a moment before emerging with a small box wrapped in green paper. A white bow adorns the gift with a sealed envelope tucked underneath it.

“Here,” she says, handing it to me.

I take it from her and look down at the envelope resting on top.Peytonis written on the front of it. I know immediately that it’s Robbie’s handwriting. I don’t know how I know that but I do. It’s a little sloppy but still legible.

“It’s from Robbie.” Debbie tightly smiles. “He dropped it off this morning. With how busy work has been for him, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to get it to you before your birthday.” She says it like she doesn’t believe that’s the truth.

I feel my heart race like it grew feet and started running, pounding against my rib cage. My stomach flips, and I blink back tears. I should have never said what I said to him. I didn’t mean any of it. I was just feeling emotional and disoriented. And now I feel so awful and sad. I miss Robbie, and I’m mad at myself for how I spoke to him.

Maya leans forward in her chair. “Are you going to open it?”

“No, I’m going to wait until my birthday.”

She groans and waves her hand at me. “You’re no fun. I wanted to see what it is.”

“Knowing Robbie, whatever it is, it’ll be very thoughtful,” Debbie says.

I hold the present a little tighter. It’s so neatly wrapped, like he took his time with it, making sure it was perfect. A frown settles on my face. As much as I want to rip it open, I don’t feel like I even deserve whatever’s inside of it ... even if it’s a piece of trash.

CHAPTER19

Tyler’s texts says he’s five minutes away. I give myself a once-over in the mirror, making sure my makeup is blended and my hair is volumized. It’s in ringlet curls, which took me hours, but it gave me something to do. I take a step back and check out how my new outfit looks—a white long-sleeve bodysuit with a sweetheart neckline and a pair of high-waisted black leather leggings. It was a birthday gift from Maya. I think it’s more her style, but I’m getting used to it. I readjust the gold necklace wrapped around my neck. It’s simple and delicate with a heart pendant that rests right beneath my collarbone. It was a present from Debbie, and it came in one of those nice jewelry boxes with the felt lining. I knew right away she spent more than she should have on it. When I told her it was too much, she said, “There is no such thing.”

I smile at my reflection. “Happy birthday,” I say to the girl staring back at me. It’s strange. I’ve lived thirty-two years, but I only have two weeks’ worth of memories, and I have no idea how I got here.

The perfectly wrapped present set on the kitchen counter catches my eye. I said I’d open it on my birthday, but it feels wrong to unwrap it without Robbie here. My feet carry me toward it. I pull the card from the gift and flip it over in my hand. On the back of the envelope reads,Open last.

I smile. Of course Robbie would have instructions on how to open his gifts. I unwrap the box. Inside, I find a charm bracelet adornedwith coins—a mix of pennies, nickels, and dimes. There are fourteen of them spaced evenly around the chain. It jingles when I pick it up. I wrap the bracelet around my wrist and clasp it. The coins dance against one another as I wiggle my hand. My gaze returns to the envelope. I tear it open and slide the card out, scanning over the words Robbie handwrote.

Peyton,

You’ve turned over so many coins, leaving good luck for others. I hope you don’t mind that I collected some of them for myself, fourteen to be exact, one for each year I’ve known you, because they’ve been the luckiest years of my life. Happy birthday.

Love,

Your friend, Robbie

By the time I finish reading the card, I can’t see the words anymore. My eyes fill with tears and my bottom lip trembles. I don’t deserve this. I don’t deserve him. A single tear drops onto the card, landing on the wordlove. The ink spreads, and I quickly wipe it away. Holding up my wrist, I admire the charm bracelet, the thoughtfulness of it, the planning that went into it, and the time it took him to make it.

Pulling my phone from my purse, I stare at the lit-up screen. I want to call him, but I don’t think he’ll pick up. So instead, I send a text.

Thank you for my gift, Robbie. I love it, and I wish you would have been here when I opened it.

I hit “Send.” The three little dots pop up immediately. He’s typing.

I’m glad you like it. Happy birthday, Peyton.

There are no emojis. No exclamation points. Nothing. I let out a sigh and type another message.

I’m sorry about our fight. I didn’t mean what I said. I was just frustrated, and I took it out on you. You didn’t deserve that. You’ve been here for me this whole time, and I’m so lucky to have you in my life.

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