CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
Kaia
“?Cumpleanos feliz!” Alba sang, plopping onto my bed. Happy Birthday.
I yawned and rubbed my eyes as I pushed myself upright. “Thank you. What time is it?”
“Late enough you missed breakfast, but don’t worry, I’ve got something better. Close your eyes.”
I obeyed. They were so sore from reading and studying half the night, I could’ve kept them shut for another five hours.
“Now. Open.”
A cupcake with pink frosting and a lit candle hovered in front of me.
“You know the drill,” Alba said. “Make a wish, blow out the candle, blah blah.”
“Okay.”
I grinned, but as I stared at the trembling flame, images of last year’s birthday filled my mind. Blinking back tears, I wished for academic success and a bright future—because admitting I only wanted Asher felt too raw, too humiliating.
When the candle gave off a silver thread of smoke, Alba hugged me tight, then handed me a stack of packages and bags.
“You’re spoiling me,” I said. “Thank you.”
“Nah, it’s nothing. Hope you like them.”
The biggest bag held a gorgeous pink knit sweater.
“Shut up!” I pressed it to my chest and leaped off the bed, Alba’s chuckle following me. “You made this!”
“I did,” she said as I twirled in front of the mirror. “Started when we met. I thought you’d look pretty in pink. It was supposed to be a scarf, but… things escalated.”
I darted back to her side and kissed her cheek. “Gracias. I’m glad they did, because it’s already my favorite piece of clothing.”
“Come on.” She clapped. “Open the rest—we’ve got cupcakes waiting.”
A box of pastries sat on the nightstand.
I sat again and unwrapped what I already knew would be one of my favorite gifts—her trademark monthly package.
Somehow, she always picked the perfect books in Spanish: poetry about broken hearts and hope, novels that made me reflect and kept me awake half the night.
They reminded me of Asher. How could both of them know me so well?
This time the package also held a pink diary with a lock. Alba grinned sheepishly as I ran my fingers over the thick, smooth pages. I could write with any pen and the ink wouldn’t bleed through.
“I love it,” I whispered. “But books and good notebooks are expensive. You shouldn’t spend so much on me.”
She rolled her eyes. “I won’t stop, so don’t argue. There’s something else you’ll like.”
The third bag held pink lip gloss and nail polish. “They match the sweater,” Alba said. “I thought pink might cheer you up.”
“It did. Gracias. Let me get dressed, and we’ll have breakfast.”
Once I was ready, we carried coffee and cupcakes to the garden and sat on a bench under the trees.
“Want to sneak out to Oakwood Springs later?” Alba asked.
“Sure. Why not?”
She clapped. “Awesome. I also wanted to talk to you about something.”
I drained the last of my coffee. “Talk about what?”
“Guess it’ll have to wait,” Alba muttered. “Look.”
I followed her gaze. Sarah was crossing the garden, and behind her trailed Dad and Sharon.
Nausea rose in my stomach. First time I’d seen them since they read my diary. I hadn’t even expected them to remember my birthday, much less show up.
“I’ll wait in the yoga room,” Alba said, standing. “Unless you want me here.”
“No, it’s fine.” I gathered our empty cups and dropped them in the trash by the bench. “I guess they’re here for a reason.”
A reason I knew had nothing to do with me turning nineteen.
“See you later, then,” Alba said softly. “And good luck.”
She jogged toward the French doors, leaving me to brace for whatever unpleasantness followed. It always did when Dad decided to appear unannounced.
Sarah stayed behind, but Dad and Sharon advanced. Him stern, jaw tight, like always; her wearing a plastered smile, clutching his arm.
“Happy birthday, Kaia,” Dad said, reaching into the pocket of his navy blazer. He handed me a small envelope.
I took it with my trembling fingers.
A clothing store gift card. Cold. Impersonal. Just like us.
“Thank you,” I said, unable to fake happiness but unwilling to sound ungrateful.
“We wanted to talk to you.” Dad hugged Sharon’s shoulders. “Sharon and I are getting married in February. We expect you to attend the wedding.”
Married? After all these years, he finally proposed. Maybe because Asher and I were both gone. Maybe because we weren’t together anymore. Maybe now it was convenient to play family.
I fiddled with the card, eyes burning. They’d been together long enough, so why did it still sting?
“Congratulations,” I said. “Will Asher be there too?”
Dad’s jaw flexed, nostrils flaring the way they always did when he was barely holding back. Sharon squeezed his arm, steadying him before he could snap.
“We don’t know,” she said. “But if he is, we were hoping you’d make him reconsider his decision to leave the team.”
Lack of sleep must’ve scrambled my hearing. “You hope I’ll make him what?”
“He’s decided not to stay with Forward Racing, but now that we’ll be family, it might look odd if he doesn’t race for his stepfather.”
Angry tears stung. Unbelievable. “You’re asking me to help with your son after you told my dad about my diary? What’s your excuse, Sharon—that you were worried? That’s why you violated my privacy?”
She lowered her gaze to her red pointed shoes, then sighed. “Your dad was worried, Kaia, and with good reason. Your relationship with my son was wrong. He’s an adult, you’re still in high school. And soon we’ll be family. As a team owner, your dad doesn’t need that kind of negative attention.”
Your dad, your dad, your dad. Always about him. I shot to my feet as if the bench had burned me. “Asher and I aren’t together. There’s no relationship. Bet you’re thrilled now.”
“Kaia,” Dad hissed. “We came here with the best of intentions, to give you the news the right way.”
“Well, thank you.” I wiped my arm across my eyes. “Don’t worry, I never thought you were here because it’s my birthday. What’s the gift card for? A dress for your wedding?”
Sharon sighed. My father kissed her temple, as if she were the one who needed comfort.
“I’ll let you two get going. I’m sure you have better places to be,” I said. “Don’t bother visiting again. See you in February.”
I bolted for the yoga room, rage burning through me. As soon as I slipped inside and leaned against the door, panting, Alba slid off the windowsill. “What’s going on?”
“Those two—” I nodded toward my father and his fiancée, who were hugging in the garden—“are getting married. And they want me at the wedding to convince Asher to race for my father next season.”
Alba’s jaw dropped. “They what? And you’ll go?”
I laughed through tears, staring at the gift card. “Guess you and I are going shopping. I’ll need a dress for the wedding.”
Alba stalked closer, as if afraid I might shatter. “It’s your birthday. The fuck is wrong with those people?”
I sank to the floor, hugging my knees. “I’m used to it. You know what’s worse? I have no choice but to put up with him if I want to go to college. And I do. I need to do something for myself, to get away from him—but without his money, I can’t afford it.”
“Asford University, right?”
“Yeah.”
“I’m hoping for Dorgam.”
She wanted to study law. With how fierce and protective she was, it made perfect sense.
“At least both are in Emerport,” I said. “I won’t lose you.”
“Lose me? Are you kidding? Nunca.”
Her grin nearly stopped my heart. “Don’t ever use that word with me. Please.”
Her brow furrowed.
“Asher,” I said, like his name explained everything.
“Sorry.” She sat beside me, cross-legged. “So, that thing I wanted to talk about. I know it’s not the best time, but Dad and I were discussing it. I thought I’d ask.”
“What?”
She tucked her hair behind her ears. “There’s this volunteer program in South America. You travel and teach English. I was thinking about doing it before college. It’d look great on my application, and I’ll be starting late anyway. So why not?”
“And you want me to go with you?”
She grinned. “Duh, of course. You’re studying Spanish in college. Imagine how useful it’d be to practice for almost a year. You’d be ahead of everyone. Plus, it’d do you good to get away for a while.”
The idea was tempting—seeing the part of the world I’d always dreamed about—but Dad would still have to agree. Hard to feel like an adult when I wasn’t really one.
“I’ll think about it,” I said.
Alba pulled me into a tight hug. “Thank you. I’ll call Dad and ask him to take us to Emerport so you can buy the most gorgeous dress for that stinky wedding.”
“I’m only going because I hope to see him,” I whispered, leaning on her shoulder. “It might be the last time if he moves to Spain next season.”
“I get it,” she said softly. “But I hate that he let you down.”
“People let him down too, Alba. I can only imagine how he felt when they gave him the news.”
“You must really love him if you still worry about his feelings.”
“I do.”
My love for him was painful. Messy. But it was also the best kind of wrong—because he’d always been everything right for me.
We’d gone through the same things. Felt the same way. He hurt me, but I couldn’t hate him. I knew that choice hadn’t been easy. He’d cared once. He’d given me the best first time.
Alba patted my knee. “I hope he does, too.”