Page 85 of Red Flag, Green Light

“All this was a few trips to the store, some online shopping, and a bike ride around town. That hardly constitutes praise. You are worth so much more than any of this.”

I bury my face down against my stuffed animal. The only one I’ve ever owned. “You’re right. How silly of me. I rescind my gratitude. Would you prefer a compliment about your shoulders?”

“Yes, please. Several, even. If I can afford them.”

“Lucky you, they’re on BOGO.”

“Score.”

Laughter builds, getting caught in my chest. But before it can escape, I start to cry.

Silent, Mars runs his fingers through my hair as he continues to cradle me against the rampant beat of his heart. When my tears have soaked through his pinstripe shirt, he whispers against the shell of my ear, “I made cake.”

When hasn’t he?

I sniffle. “What kind?”

“Carrot.”

“Did you get candles?” I battle my own shaking chest for a full breath of air.

“Oh, darling.” Mars kisses my temple. “As if I would pass up the chance to see you in the firelight.”

He practically picks me up off the floor and carries me to my kitchen table, where he presents the most perfect carrot cake in the whole entire world. He sings “The Happy Happy Birthday Song” by the Arrogant Worms, which is an altogether depressing but hilarious alternative to the usual, tired tune, and I find myself laughing through the tears instead of trying to figure out what I’m supposed to do.

After I blow out the candles, he lets me make the first cut, like I’m at a proper birthday party, then I try to keep teardrops from falling onto my slice while I eat to the sound of Mars humming the chorus of “The Happy Happy Birthday Song” again and again. Until it feels like I’m going insane.

In the past month, I’ve had so many slices of carrot cake.You’d think I’d be sick of it by now, but I’m not. Something about the modestly sweet buttercream paired with the overwhelmingly moist and light cake fills an aching pit inside.

“This is the best cake I’ve ever had,” I whisper.

Mars watches me, his fork dangling from his lips. His gaze trails my new necklace before contentment settles into his demeanor. “Is it now?”

I nod.

“I’m glad. I was some apprehensive to consider that, perhaps, you’d have preferred a different cake for your birthday. Silly of me.”

“So—” I sniff. “—silly of you.”

He sips chocolate milk from his glass and nods magnanimously.

“Can I ask…why carrot cake, though?”

He scoops a frosting carrot onto his fork. “Why not carrot cake?”

“So there’s no reason behind it? No reason at all behind the fact you seem to make carrot cake every day?”

“Every other day. Please, if it were every day, we might grow sick of it. Not even Jovey could eat an entire carrot cake every single day. His shoulders aren’t big enough to store it.”

“I disagree, but that’s not the point. Is it a secret?”

“Is what a secret?”

“Mars.”

He sighs, eats the frosting, and looks elsewhere. “Let’s not ruin your birthday with needless backstories. Everyone needs hobbies. Mine is carrot cake.”

“You have a sad backstory connected to carrot cake of all things?” I ask.

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