Page 57 of Wylder Ranch
Now we’re in the snug, throwing a birthday party.
“Are you sure you don’t have a balloon pump?” Miles puffs out to Eddie, walking in carrying another box of decorations left over from the summer fair.
The pastel bunting we hung looks a little odd next to a roaring fire and a rapidly darkening sky outside, but whatever.
“I didn’t even know I had balloons, Miles. So I can tell you for certain I don’t have a pump,” Eddie grumbles, dropping the box on the floor. “In my day, we just used our lungs.”
“In your day?—”
“Yes?”
Miles and Eddie glare at each other before Miles concedes with a huffed, “Never mind.”
“Thanks for the help, Eddie. We’ll return everything in one piece,” I call after him as he trundles back to the One True Love. “Here, give me some.” I hold my hand out for Miles to pass me the pack of party balloons. I take acouple and toss the rest over to Lando, sitting on a chair, reading theFinancial Times, where he’s been since he walked in. “You can help too.”
He doesn’t even look up as the pack flies through the air, hits the front cover of the paper, and drops into his lap. But it catches his attention.
“She’s two months old, Al. She can’t even pick out colors, let alone have any awareness of what a birthday party is. She wants to be fed, burped, and clean. That is literally the limit of a two-month-old’s priorities.”
I’m not about to lecture Lando on Everly’s genius when it comes to colors. Instead, I snap, “Who made you the fun police today? Blow up a fucking balloon. It’s for your niece.”
He responds with a thick eye roll and a heavy sigh, but folds the newspaper, picks up a green one, and starts blowing. In all fairness to him, he didn’t come over expecting to prepare a birthday party.
He came because I need to talk to him.
“Why’s the duke more moody than usual today?” I ask Miles between puffs of my own balloon—a red one—that doesn’t want to inflate.
“I’m not moody,” Lando retorts, only for the green balloon to slip from his fingers and fall to the floor, letting out a pathetically weak fart noise. The sound has Dolly darting to the other side of the room. Blackberry doesn’t flinch. “For fuck’s sake.”
Miles drops his chin, smirking, and Lando picks it up to start again.
“I’m meeting Holiday’s family next week.”
He leaves the statement dangling for the two of us to finish. Miles gets there first.
“And you’re shitting yourself?”
“Not quite, but close enough.”
“What are you going back for again?”
“It’s Thanksgiving. We’re staying with her parents, and her whole family will be there. All of them.”
“Can’t be any worse than us.”
Lando holds his balloon and wags it at Miles. “But that’s where you’re wrong. Holiday and I weren’t together when she met you lot. There’s more at stake here.”
Miles is about to reply, but I jump in first. I want to be sympathetic to Lando’s plight, I really do, but there are more pressing matters at hand because I just realized that if Holiday is celebrating Thanksgiving, then Haven should be too.
“Wait, back up. Thanksgiving? That’s a big deal, right?”
Lando gives one solemn nod. “It’s why Hol’s been baking all her pumpkin pies?—”
“Tell her that last one was delicious.” Miles slaps his stomach.
I throw him a scowl for interrupting. “And this is everywhere in America?”
“I think so. I think it’s bigger than Christmas.” He shrugs. “Why? Isn’t Haven going back to the States? I thought you were flying there together.”
