Chapter 31
thirty-one
JO
I come downstairs, bending slightly backwards as I walk, trying to stretch out my sore muscles. I spent too long in the same hunched-over position on my laptop. Midnightmare had some interesting theories on where Noelle is, if she is still alive.
Looking in the fridge to see what I can make for dinner, I pause and spin around. There’s a blue-flowered plant in a cute blue and white striped pot sitting on the kitchen island. I spotted it as I came into the kitchen, but it took my tired brain a minute to catch up to what I was seeing.
Did Ezra get flowers while he was out? I bet he ran into Martha and she made him. The idea makes me chuckle. As I’m about to make my way back to the fridge, I see a waft of white smoke blowing by the window.
“What the fuck?” I mutter, running to the sliding glass door that leads out back. “What’s happening?” Ezra is standing behind the grill, tongs in one hand, spatula in the other. I can tell his shoulders are tense from here.
I open the door enough to stick my head out. I’m in one of Ezra’s sweatshirts and my pajama shorts. The temperature has been in the low fifties this week, and it’s too cold to go outside without pants.
“You know how to grill?” I ask.
Ezra turns, looking slightly panicked. “Can you get the meat thing? It’s red. I left it on the counter next to the stove, and I’ve been too afraid to leave the food to get it.”
I burst out laughing but do what he says anyway. “Here you go,” I say, tossing it to him from the doorway.
“Shit,” he mutters. “Well, it’s better than under.” I watch as he pulls off some foil packets and what I think is chicken.
“What’s the occasion?” I ask, backing up so he can come inside and shutting the door behind him.
He looks at me, sucks in a deep breath, and says, “Iknowtodayisyourbirthdayandiwantedtodosomethingspecialbutisuckatcooking.”
I blink. “What?”
Ezra sighs. His shoulders droop making him look defeated. “I wanted to make you dinner for your birthday.”
“How did you know today is my birthday? I’ve been pretending I don’t have one for years.”
“What?” he says, his eyebrows scrunched in confusion. “You still get older even if you don’t blow out candles, you know.”
I laugh and shake my head. “My parents never really threw me a party, and I just started acting like it was any other day, so it wouldn’t hurt as bad.” I shrug like it’s no big deal and that it still doesn’t hurt me. “How did you know?” I ask again.
Ezra just lifts a brow. Right. Gavin pulled everything on everyone. Of course, Ezra knows my birthday.
“Alright. What did you make me?” I ask, changing the topic. I hate talking about my parents, and I can see the questions Ezra has after my birthday comment.
“Chicken, potatoes, asparagus,” he says. “Maybe.”
I laugh and get plates. The chicken is definitely overcooked, and the asparagus is a little charred, but it looks good. Once the food is plated, we take our normal spots at the island and dig in.
“Mmm,” I hum. “This is actually delicious,” I say around a bite of chicken and potato. It’s dry, but the flavors are wonderful.
Ezra grunts as he eats while glaring between his plate and the direction of the grill. He can’t see it from where he’s sitting, but I can tell he’s blaming it for the overcooked food.
“Thank you for this. It’s really good.”
He looks unconvinced, but nods.
“Now what?” I ask him. Usually I read a book or we watch something after dinner.
“I have a cake. I also have three bottles of wine that Harlow said was your favorite,” he says quietly. Almost like he’s embarrassed.
“Hell yes!” I yell, making him jump. “We can get wine drunk, eat cake, and watch terrible reality shows.” Ezra looks at me like he’d rather pluck out his eyelashes and eat them, but he keeps his mouth shut.
Eventually he sighs. “I’ll get the cake. You open the wine.”
I jump up and give him a hug. I haven’t been this excited in a long time.