Page 21 of If You Never Come Back
He presses a kiss to my forehead. Wrapping my hands around his wrists, I close my eyes. All the frustration and hurt feelings from minutes ago melt away, like a snowflake in a heatwave.
“The only family I have is my dad, and he’s not a good person.” He speaks with his mouth pressed against my forehead. Despite the sad subject, it’s the most intimate, comforting feeling in the world having him speak to me like this.
“He didn’t…he wasn’t a good parent. He was hardly around. He never remembered my birthday. I never had a birthday party till I was in high school and my friends threw one for me.”
I have to swallow to keep the lump in my throat at bay. I couldn’t imagine enduring such indifference, such cruelty from my own parents. And yet Wes has dealt with it his entire life.
“When I was old enough to make my own decisions, I cut off all ties with him,” he says. “My friends are my family. And you.”
Another kiss on my forehead, and I melt. If I weren’t sitting in the car, I’d collapse at the overwhelming joy his words give me.Me. I’m like family to Wes.
I lean back to look up at him. “You mean that?” I ask, my voice shaky.
“Every word.”
When we kiss, my heart races. Silently, I make a promise to Wes. I don’t want to ruin the peace, the closeness of this moment when he declares me his family—the family he’s chosen for himself. In my head, I vow to be the family he never had, to do everything they should have done for him.
We settle back into our seats, he pulls onto the road, and I think of the most perfect surprise for him.
Chapter Seven
Thank goodness Wes is a summer baby. It makes it a million times easier to plan his surprise birthday party in June when the weather is warm. Trudging through the snow, ice, and slush while carrying multiple party favors is as un-fun as trips to the gynecologist or waiting in line at the DMV.
I dump two armfuls of grocery bags on the floor in the back office at Dandy Lime.
Remy peers up from the spreadsheet on his computer, eyebrow raised. “That’s what you call ‘just a few things?’”
“Very funny.” I dump one bag, which contains streamers in every color. The remaining bags are a hodgepodge of kids’ party supplies, like pin the tail on the donkey, ring toss, and stuff for sack races.
We unload the bags together. Remy holds up a container of mini candy bars and a mini bottle of rum. “What are these for?”
“The adult goodie bags I’m making.”
Remy beams. “You’re one hell of a thoughtful girlfriend, you know that?”
“Wes never had a birthday party as a kid.”
He pats my shoulder. “He’s going to love it.”
“Thank you for closing the bar early tonight so we can have his birthday here.”
He gives me a bear hug before digging into another shopping bag. “It’s my pleasure, cuz. I owe you for all the help you’ve given me these past few months taking all those extra shifts.”
I unspool a ream of bright blue streamer. “Always.”
“It means a lot that you still help out, even though you don’t need the money anymore with your business taking off.”
I bite back a smile. I finished a series of watercolor landscape images inspired by that hike with Wes last month. Each one sold within a week. I’ve been replicating the image on smaller scale items like coasters, bags, postcards, phone cases, and magnets, which have all been a hit as well.
“No more talking about it.” I scrunch my nose up at him. “I don’t want to jinx anything.”
“Aye aye, captain. Now, tell me exactly how you want me to decorate the place.” He grabs a bag of decorations.
After decorating Remy’s bar and picking up the food and cake, I’ve got less than two hours until Wes and I are due at the surprise party.
I throw on a yellow sundress and sandals, then swipe on makeup in the bathroom. In my head, I go over the guest list, which is me, Remy, and a dozen of Wes’s friends, most of whom I remember from Valentine’s Day.
I hum to myself as I remember how thrown off I felt at his friend Colin’s request for a slap, the cheeky look on Wes’s face, our crazy hot makeout in the women’s bathroom.
