Page 103 of Roommate's Guide to Love

As soon as I step out on my front porch with Grace in my arms—appropriately sporting a large lilac hair bow to match her party dress—I stop and look at the parking lot of my bar.

Because what the actual fuck is going on?

From what I can see, a bounce house is being inflated, farm animals are being led to a pen, and a food truck is setting up shop.

“Huh?”

“I know,” I say to Grace. I don’t know if that’s what she actually said, but that’s what I heard, and it fits. “I think it’s time we find Quinn.”

Now, the reason for Grace’s new bow, and my matching button-down shirt, is because this is a special day. Grace is turning one next week, I got official notice that we’re one step closer to adoption, and Quinn is officially moved back to Rolling Hills.

All three are big reasons to celebrate.

When Quinn and I were talking about a party, I was thinking a backyard barbecue. Friends and family. A few regulars. Something just nice and relaxing to celebrate everything that’s been happening over the past few months.

Quinn’s last words to me on that topic were, “I’ll take care of everything.”

That should’ve been my first clue. Because then I remembered Quinn is a Banks. And her brother is Simon, also known as the most over-the-top man in Rolling Hills. But I never expected what I’m seeing now.

“Right over here!” Simon directs, wearing his Dad Squad polo shirt as he helps back in a flavored ice truck. “There we go. Perfect!”

“Can I ask what’s going on?”

He turns to me, doesn’t answer my question, but does take Grace out of my arms. This man is on a mission right now for my niece to smile at him. The fact that she doesn’t only makes this little game they play even better.

“This is all for you,” he says in a baby voice. “Because your Uncle Porter wanted to have a party but he didn’t have a bounce house guy. I have a bounce house guy. We’re going to have so much fun!”

“Give her back, please,” I say as Grace willingly comes back to me. “Simon, really, this is nice and all, but you shouldn’t have.”

“But I did,” he says as he signs something on a clipboard from a passing-by worker. “Today’s a big day. For all of you. Her first birthday! Did you get her a smash cake? I did just in case. And while an open bar with food at The Joint is great, it doesn’t scream one-year-old birthday/return home party. Because this girl is one, and Quinn is back home!”

I smile as I realize all of that is true until I remember one thing he slid in. “Who said anything about open bar?”

He waves me off. “You did. I’m sure. At some point. It’s fine. Everything is fine. It’s a party!”

I stand in confusion for more than a few seconds before Grace starts squirming to be let down. I make my way inside The Joint, not wanting her to start running around in the busy parking lot, when I realize that inside is just as much of a madhouse as it is outside.

“Quinn?” I ask as I put Grace down in the “Grace Corner” as the regulars have dubbed it. In reality, it’s just a portion of the bar where they built a permanent baby gate, put in a mat so she’s not sitting on the wood floor, and filled it with more toys than she could ever play with. It’s becoming one of her favorite places and she cries when she has to leave. “Care to tell me what’s going on?”

She all but skips around the bar, balloons in her hand as she leans up to kiss me on the cheek. “We’re decorating.”

“I see that,” I say as a host of red and pink balloons cover nearly every inch of the bar. It looks like I’m having a Valentine’s Day in June event. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen this many balloons in my bar in, well…ever.”

I look around the bar and the decorations are big, bright, and I’ll even admit, fun. There’s a banner welcoming Quinn back to Rolling Hills. There’s another one that says “Happy Birthday” with stuffed bears and birthday candles on it. Streamers hang from the ceiling and balloons float all around. It definitely doesn’t look like my bar, which makes me wonder what the regulars are going to have to say about this.

“Quinn! We finished packing the party favor bags. Should we put them by the door?”

My eyes are unblinking as I watch Harry and George carrying little party bags through the bar. “Really? She got you two in on this?”

“Of course!” George says, looking at me like I’m crazy. “That angel of a woman of yours is the reason I’m able to go across the country with my lady and my RV. She could’ve told me to drink concrete today and I woulda done it. Plus, our little girl only turns one once!”

“I’m here for the cake,” Harry says, patting my back as he walks next to me. “Also, don’t look stressed. This is a fun day. A happy day. Have some fun. Your daddy would’ve loved it.”

I sit down at those words, because Harry’s right. He might’ve been an aloof bar owner for his life, but he always had a sparkle in his eye when a new baby or child would come into the bar with their parents. I think if he were alive, and Missy would’ve brought Grace to me, he would’ve supported me every step of the way. And I know for a fact he would’ve loved that little girl as much as I do.

On that same line, he would’ve loved Quinn. He knew her back in the day and always laughed at her stunts. I remember him partying with her just as much as anyone on her twenty-first birthday.

Yeah…he would’ve approved of us. Of this. Of us raising this family together. Most importantly, he would’ve been thankful that I didn’t end up alone.

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