Chapter Twenty-Six
Pacino
“What is this?” I ask, walking into the living room with Zep while Misty and Bernie sit on the couch with beads and strings in front of them. “Are we joining them for arts and crafts?”
“It’s for Phoebe,” Bernie says, pushing her glasses up with the back of her hand.
I frown. “Why?”
“Because she had Bernie earlier today,” Zep says, “and she told Bernie a story so sad that Misty balled her eyes until I promised to go out and get this stuff for her.”
Sitting on the recliner, I lean forward with my elbows on my knees. “What story?”
There’s no way she told Bernie about what happened to her as a kid. Not unless something was happening to Bernie, and if that was the case, Zep would have called me to help dispose of a body.
“When she was little, after her mom died, she was living with her grandma,” Bernie says.
She sticks out her tongue as she focuses on sliding a bead onto the string, and I can’t help but smile. I know why Phoebe doesn’t want children, but she’d be a damn good mother. She does so good with Bernie.
I also understand the pain she wants to avoid. If I ever had kids, I know I’d wish I could introduce them to my mom, too. But daughters usually look to their moms for support when they have babies, and that’s not an option for Phoebe.
“And she wanted to be friends with a popular girl named Brenda,” Bernie says. “Brenda was having a birthday party, and everyone in class was going. She talked about it for weeks.”
She reaches for a bead across the table and studies it for a moment. There’s a lot of thought and effort going into this, and I appreciate Misty and Bernie so much.
“Well, the invitations went out, and everyone in class got one. Except Phoebe.”
My heart drops. I just see young Phoebe hoping to get asked to a birthday party only to be rejected. No one sees the beauty that is her.
“But she’d already had her grandma buy a present for Brenda, so on the day of the party, she walked with it to the park to wait until dark to go home,” Bernie says.
“She opened the present and made her own bracelet. Then she went home and told her grandma that she and Brenda made them together because she didn’t want to tell her she’d been excluded,” Misty says, wiping her eyes. “Isn’t that just so sad?”
Poor Phoebe. Sitting at a park by herself and making herself a friendship bracelet is kind of sad.
“Misty cries about everything right now,” Zep whispers to me. “But that story does tug at the heartstrings.”
“We’re making Phoebe friendship bracelets to have,” Bernie says. “That way, she knows she has friends now.”
I know without a doubt that Phoebe told Bernie this because Bernie was getting bullied at school. Zep made sure the girl’s parents understood it needed to stop, and as far as I’ve heard, it has. And he would have told us because we’d be with him as he beat the shit out of the girl’s dad.
“Can I make one for her, too?” I ask.
Bernie beams and nods. “Yes! She’ll love a bracelet from you. She likes you a lot. And I know you like her, too. Like, like like her. And I told her that, too,” she says, a proud smile on her face.
Laughing, I nod and reach for the supplies. “Yes, I do. And I think she already knew, but thanks for making sure she did, Bernie.”
After an hour, I head to the bakery to follow Phoebe to Zep’s house. I can’t wait to see the surprise she’ll get as she shows up with a surprise of her own.
She parks in Misty and Zep’s driveway, and I climb off my bike to walk over and meet her before she opens the back door of her SUV. “Hold on a second.”
“What’s wrong?”
Kissing her, I press her against the vehicle, completely captivated by her inability to see how special she is. There have been so many things in her life that could have knocked her down, and she could have thrown in the towel. But she doesn’t.
Phoebe wants to belong, and I hope she really sees today that she does. She has a place here in this family, and we love her just the way she is.
“I have to get this inside, but I am more than happy to continue this after I do inventory tonight at the café.”
Groaning, I rest my forehead against hers. “I appreciate your willingness to help everyone, but I have needs, too, baby. And I really, really need you.”
“And you’ll have me. Tonight. I promise.”
“Okay, as long as you promise,” I say and move to let her pull out the two boxes. “What did you make?”
“You’ll have to wait and see. Can you take the top box?”
Taking both, I wink. “I’ll take both boxes.”
She knocks and walks into the house, and Bernie bounces on the balls of her feet as we enter. “You’re here!”
“What’s in the boxes?” Zep asks, nodding his head. “Something for me? Tell me it’s something for me.”
“It’s for Misty,” Phoebe says. “Bernie had an idea, and we worked on this together.”
Misty’s eyes widen as I set the boxes on the table. Phoebe opens one to show a box full of cupcakes that smell amazingly delicious.
“Okay, so we did two different options, and you can tell us which one is better,” Phoebe says, opening the second box. “Pretty similar but slightly different.”
There is zero hesitation as Misty shoves the first cupcake into her mouth. “Ith thith peanut buttah and banana with choc-late?”
“That’s been her insatiable craving,” Zep says.
Misty moans and grabs the second cupcake, moaning again as though she’s having some type of sexual experience. Which has an effect on Zep as he shifts his jeans.
“These are ah-ma-zing!” Misty cries. “I love them both!”
“You don’t like one more than the other?” Phoebe asks, the brightest smile on her face.
Shaking her head, Misty grabs for a third. “Seriously, I love you. And please don’t ever stop bringing these to me.”
Bernie and Phoebe give each other a high five. “Thank Bernie. It was her idea.”
“I want to be left alone with the rest of these. Oh my God, you guys have to try one. But only one!” Misty says.
Both Zep and I grab one from a different box, and I bite into it. Zep moans just like Misty did, and I have to agree. It’s almost as good as sex.
Almost.
“Banana cake, and one has a chocolate ganache filling with peanut butter frosting, and the other has a peanut butter filling with a chocolate frosting,” Phoebe says.
“Pacino, don’t kill me, but Phoebe, will you marry me?” Zep asks.
“I’m not even mad,” Misty says, polishing off a fourth. “If you marry him, I’ll have a live-in baker.”
I’m not as entertained, however. “Yeah, that’s a no.”
“Hey, she can answer for herself,” Misty says.
Laughing, Phoebe moves toward me. “Sorry, guys, I’m kind of attached to Tucker.”
“Better be,” I growl, pulling her against my side.
Zep holds up a hand. “I have a serious question. How are you so thin? Like, you shouldn’t bake this good.”
I’m about to punch him when Phoebe laughs. “I make it, but I don’t eat a lot of it, I guess.”
There’s so much pride in her as she watches Misty devour her treats, and it’s captivating. I see it. Why she practically shoved those donuts down my throat when we first met. This is how she shows her love.
“We have something for you, Phoebe,” Bernie says, running from the room.
“For me?” she asks, looking around. “What is it?”
Bernie runs back out with her hands behind her back. “Okay, you have to close your eyes and hold out your hands.”
There’s no trepidation as Phoebe does as directed. She has no reason to trust as freely as she does, but she chooses good. My girl chooses good.
We all slip bracelets onto her arms, her brows furrowing as we take turns with Zep putting Misty’s on for her.
“Okay, open them!”
Her eyes pop open, and she stares at her wrists. “Bracelets?”
“Friendship bracelets. We all made you one. Even Zep and Pacino. And Mom and I have matching ones to wear,” Bernie says.
Tears well in her eyes as her lip trembles, and she stares down at her arms. “You made me friendship bracelets?”
“Bernie told us about your story with that horrible girl who won’t even be named,” Misty says, wiping her eyes. “Not having you as her friend is her loss.”
She twists the beads of the jewelry as tears fall. “Thank you, guys,” she whispers.
“We’re friends forever now, see?” Bernie says, hugging Phoebe.
“We sure are,” she says, her voice cracking. “I can’t believe you guys did this. Especially the boys.”
“Like we were going to be left out,” Zep scoffs. “But seriously, think about the proposal.”
I punch him, knocking him to the side, and Phoebe laughs. “I think I’ll stick with what I have, but it’s nice to know I have options.”
“Hey!” I cry out. But this is the moment I know it. I’m going to marry Phoebe Phelps.