Page 123 of The Situation
“Hey, watch this,” I say, letting Ivy grab my finger. “Ivy, say Tate!”
“Ta!”
“Oh, my goodness,” Mom says, giggling. “That’s so precious.”
I look at Ripley and wink.
His smirk grows deeper than mine. “Watch this.” He bounces Ivy around until she’s facing him. “Ivy, say Rip!”
“Rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrip!”
“Sucka,” Ripley says, walking away with the baby and a victory.On my birthday.
“Hey, Tate!” Jason’s wife Chloe yells from the back porch. “Gannon wants to see you in the house.”
Oh, great. This day keeps getting better.
* * *
Aurora
Voices and music drift from the back of the massive home with the long driveway. Cars worth more than most people’s gross income line both sides of the street. I’d second-guess this is my destination except there’s a sign on the front lawn that saysHappy birthday, Tate!
I’m not sure I should be here. Actually, I’m pretty sure I should go. But this is Tate’s birthday, a day he loves, and I want to wish him a great year.
And hopefully not goodbye.
I should’ve taken his calls last night. But every time the phone rang, my stomach would knot, and I’d convince myself we needed a little breathing room to think. In reality, I was just too nervous to come up with the right words to say.
“Aurora?”
I turn to my left and see Carys standing on the porch. She immediately comes down the stairs and crosses the lawn.
“Hi,” I say, my smile wobbly.
Before I can say anything else, she pulls me in a big hug.
“It’s so good to see you,” she says. “I’m glad you came.”
“I wasn’t sure if I should.”
Her eyes are crystal clear and full of joy. I’m happy for her.
“How have you been?” I ask. “How is your baby?”
“Ivy is her name, and she’s wonderful. Growing so fast. How about you?”
I laugh nervously. “I’m good. Been busy.”
“Tate keeps you hoppin’. There’s no doubt about that.”
My smile falters, and Carys doesn’t miss it.
She stands with me beneath the warm sun, feeling the wind dance across our skin. Neither of us speaks for the longest time. We just exist in the same space, and it’s all I could ask for from her.
“This family is loud,” she says softly. “They’re tactile—definite huggers.”
I grin. “They’re a little overwhelming.”
