Chapter 31
I’m picking at my dinner, head resting in one hand, elbow on the table. The food’s good, but my mind is somewhere else entirely.
“Liv?” my dad asks gently. “Everything okay?”
He’s cutting into his steak, looking back and forth between me and his plate as he chews.
“Hm?” I blink and glance up at him.
“I asked if everything’s okay. You haven’t really touched your food.”
I glance down at my plate, as if noticing it for the first time. He’s right. I’ve barely eaten a thing. But nothing’s wrong, not really. I’m just… thinking. Still stuck on what Archer said to me.
I sigh and glance back at Dad. “Yeah, I’m okay. Just got a lot on my mind.”
He nods and keeps eating. “Alright. As long as you’re okay.”
“Maybe this will help.” My mom says and places a large, white garment box on the table. It’s topped with a big baby blue bow. “It’s your birthday gift.” She says, I must’ve looked confused for her to need to specify.
“My birthday is tomorrow mom.” I tell her, still staring at the big white box.
“I know dear. But you can have it a little early.” She scoots the box across the table.
“Ok then.”
I stand and move my plate out of the way. I scoot the box in front of me and slide the top off. I move away the tissue paper and gasp. The first thing I see is pink. Not just pink, Barbie pink. A color that could probably be seen from space.
Oh what fresh hell is this?
Across from me mom squeals and claps her hands together. “Isn’t it lovely?” She asks in her high pitched tone she gets when she’s excited. “It’s the latest fashion.”
I pull the dress out of the box slowly and my mouth drops open. I look up at dad and his eyes open so wide they’re perfectly round.
My fingers brush the fabric. It’s crisp and slightly stiff, layered with ruffles and gathered seams. I already know what it is before I lift it out of the box, but I still hold it up anyway, hoping it’ll transform.
Nope. It’s worse in full view.
A puff-sleeved, tiered mini dress in blinding pink, complete with a wide sash that ties at the waist and little frilly hems that bounce like cheerleader pompoms.
“Oh, Liv! Isn’t it just darling?” Mom claps her hands together, eyes shining. “I saw it in the window and immediately thought of you.”
Of me? I want to ask. Me, the girl whose wardrobe lives in forest greens and muted browns? The one who hasn’t worn a puff sleeve since elementary school picture day?
But I swallow down the distaste.
Instead, I paste on a smile, the kind that stretches my cheeks a little too tightly. “It’s... really bright.”
She laughs, completely missing my tone. “Exactly! You need more color. It’ll be perfect for Thanksgiving. And look at those tiers! So flattering.”
Thanksgiving? I think to myself. Yeah I don’t think so. “Well, thank you mom,” I say. “May I be excused?”
Dad nods, so I rise, pick up my plate, and take it into the kitchen.
I set it in the sink and lean back against the counter, arms folded. My thoughts drift to Evan, then to Archer. The way both of them have lived through things most people couldn’t imagine. Two foster kids. One lucky, one not.
Archer found a home. Someone who chose him. I’m happy for him, but there’s guilt tangled up in it. Because Evan… Evan’s still out there. Still getting shuffled around. Still sleeping on benches or rooftops, wherever someone won’t chase him off. It’s not right. It’s never been right.
I lower my head and close my eyes, taking a slow breath. Poor Evan. Not just stuck in the system, but alone.
My phone rings.
I pull it from my pocket, and the moment I see his name, I light up.
“Hey, cupcake!” I answer with a grin.
His laugh fills the kitchen through the speaker. “Girl, you better watch it with that.”
I laugh and roll my eyes. “Hi, Evan.”
I hop up onto the counter and hold my phone out in front of me. “Whatcha up to?”
“Not much. Just chillin’.” He flips the camera around so I can see he’s sprawled out on a park bench.
My heart aches. “You’ve only got a few minutes of daylight left,” I say, checking the clock. It’s 8 p.m. here, so just hitting 5 for him.
“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” he sighs. “The days are getting short.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I spot movement. My dad pokes his head into the kitchen, smiles, and sets down a small plate on the island. Three chocolate cupcakes. One candle each.
He winks at me, then disappears again.
I glance back at my phone.
Evan’s watching, his expression soft. “You ready for tonight?”
My birthday. In just a few hours, I’ll be eighteen. And a few hours after that, when it hits midnight in California, he will be too.
“Happy birthday to you!
Happy birthday dear LIIIIIIV!
Happy birthday to you!”
Evan sings it loud and off-key as the clock on my nightstand strikes midnight. I’m in my pajamas, curled up under my blanket, phone still in hand.
This is the first birthday without him here. The first without Rissa.
“You know she’s singing to you too, right?” he says softly.
I nod, unable to speak. There’s a lump in my throat that’s been growing all night. God, I miss her. I miss Evan, too, but at least I can see his face. Hear his voice. That’s something.
I glance at the clock again. “Only ten more minutes.”
Evan groans. “Oh no. What ever will I do with the terrifying freedom of adulthood?”
I laugh, pushing out of bed. I step onto the balcony, cool air brushing my arms as I lift the phone. “Your turn,” I say, and I start to sing.
We spend the rest of the night talking. Laughing. Crying a little, too. I light the cupcakes. One for me, one for him, and one for Rissa, and blow them out. He helps, of course, from the other side of the screen.
Neither of us hangs up. We just… fall asleep like that. As close as we can get.
The sun rises for me first, And before we hang up, we whisper it one last time.
“Happy birthday.”