Chapter 16
RAUL
I wake up to my phone dinging with a new text.
The light from the screen is blinding in the dark room, and when I squint at it, Olivia's name is already there waiting for me.
Olivia and I have been hanging out for a few months now. I've been her plus one to almost every gig she's had, and we haven't kissed since that night. It's never been brought up again, and somehow things have settled back into something easy and professional.
But today is different.
Today is my 20th birthday.
Olivia found out pretty quickly that my fake ID wasn't my real age, but she didn't seem to care much.
She's a little older than me anyway, turning twenty-two in a few months.
When she found out I wasn't actually twenty-one, she offered to bartend a party for me so my friends and I could drink without having to worry about getting carded.
It's sweet.
Too sweet.
The only problem is I can't bring myself to tell her I don't really have anybody else who would come. Outside of Diego and her, I don't have friends like that.
I groan and rub the sleep from my eyes before picking up my phone and opening the thread.
Good morning! Happy birthday!
Thank you :)
What do you have going on today?
Just going to see my cousin and aunt. Why?
I want to see you. Can I come over?
My heart kicks hard against my ribs.
I've kept her at a distance so far, always picking her up and hanging around her house instead of letting her see mine. I'm not ready for that.
It's not that I'm ashamed of where I live or how I grew up.
Okay, maybe that's part of it. But letting her into my home means letting her into everything else too.
The photos of my mom on the walls. The silence where a woman's voice should be.
The questions she'd ask. The answers I'm not ready to give.
I'm not ready to talk about my mother. Or my father. Or the life we came from.
What if she judges me?
What if she looks at me and sees exactly what I'm afraid she'd see?
A broken man with almost nothing to his name. A little boy in a grown body, who would give anything to be held by his mother again.
I stare at the screen for a long second before typing something vague.
Oh?
I slap my palm to my forehead the second I hit send. Idiot.
Not like that, perv! LOL. I have a present for you.
Meet me at the little bakery down the street from your house in about an hour?
Okay!
I shower fast and change before heading out.
I'd already planned to be over there anyway. I want to bring a cake over to Aunt Val's for my birthday dinner later. We've passed that bakery so many times that I finally went in last week and ordered it. They even gave me 15% off because it was for my own birthday.
I'm not sure whether to feel grateful or insulted.
By the time I pull up to the bakery, I realize I've beat Olivia there. She's always a few minutes late.
I push open the door and step inside, instantly hit with the smell of fresh bread and sweet cakes. My mouth waters on instinct.
The older woman behind the counter smiles at me. Her crow's-feet reach all the way to her temples, like she's spent her whole life laughing. What she lacks in youth, she makes up for in warmth.
"What can I get you today, hun?"
"Uh, I'm picking up an order for Raul Alvarez."
"Ah, the birthday cake!" she says, adjusting her glasses. "Let me go grab it for you."
I step farther into the bakery while the woman goes to get my cake, and the place immediately feels like a pocket of warmth tucked into the middle of the morning.
It's small, but every inch of it looks lived in with care.
Glass display cases line the counter, each shelf crowded with glossy fruit tarts, powdered pastries, cookies stacked in neat rows, and cupcakes swirled with thick frosting in pastel colors.
The walls are painted a soft buttery yellow, the kind that makes the whole room feel sunlit even without much natural light.
There are little framed signs hanging above the cases with handwritten prices, and a chalkboard near the back listing the day's specials in careful looping script.
The air smells like sugar, butter, and yeast, with a hint of coffee drifting in from somewhere behind the counter.
It's the kind of smell that makes you feel safe before you even realize it.
A small table by the window holds a couple of wicker chairs, and there's a vase of fake sunflowers sitting in the center, bright enough to make the whole space feel cheerful.
The woman returns with a box tied neatly in twine and sets it on the counter.
"Here you go, birthday boy."
I thank her and am just reaching for it when the bell above the door jingles. I look up.
Olivia walks in carrying a bunch of balloons in one hand and a birthday bag in the other.
For a second, I forget how to breathe. I don't know how she always does this to me.
The balloons are ridiculous in the best way.
Bright, floating over her head like she's somehow brought her own little celebration in with her.
She's smiling, cheeks a little pink from the walk over, and the sight of her makes the whole bakery feel quieter somehow, like the world has narrowed down to the two of us and the soft rustle of paper bags.
Then I notice the birthday bag.
It's decorated with a cheap shiny pattern and stuffed so full it looks like something might spill out of it if she sets it down too fast.
She spots me near the counter and her face lights up.
"There he is," she says, making her way toward me. "Happy birthday."
My mouth goes dry.
"Hey," I manage.
She holds the balloons up a little higher with a grin. "I come bearing gifts."
"I see that! What the hell did you get up to?"
"Oh, you know… just a few small things!"
I scoff, shaking my head.
Olivia has become my best friend faster than I thought possible. She knows the current me better than almost anyone, especially with Diego so tied up taking care of his mom after the accident. Diego's more like a brother anyway — our childhoods tangled together too deep to separate.
"OPEN IT!" she shouts, practically shoving the birthday bag into my hands.
We move to the small table by the window, settling into the wicker chairs. I peel back the tissue paper slow, like whatever's inside might actually bite me. I can't even remember the last time someone gave me a real gift.
"Come onnn," she drags out, leaning forward with that impatient grin.
I watch her face twist while she waits, and my heart jolts at how much I hate keeping her waiting. But it's also quite enjoyable at the same time.
First, I pull out two bags of my favorite Takis. Then a pack of gummy peach rings. Perfect. Then my fingers close around something small — a glass bottle with a soft cork top, strung on a thin cord, next to a few vials of different oils.
"They're scents!" she says, eyes bright. "A car air freshener. For your baby."
I smile. That's thoughtful as hell. I'm tired of those little pine trees piling up in the Cadillac.
"There's more!" she adds, practically bouncing.
I reach in and lift out a small jewelry box. I've never gotten jewelry before. Ever.
I crack it open.
A thin gold chain with a small cross gleams up at me.
My heart stops.
My breath catches hard in my throat.
She has no idea, but my mother wore a cross just like this. Thinner chain, but the shape… she never took it off. The last time I saw it, she was in the hospital bed, skin gray, saying goodbye without saying it.
My eyes burn. Tears prick hot at the corners, and I blink hard to shove them back.
Fuck. She doesn't even know about Mom. I can't fall apart here.
"I'm sorry, is it okay?" she asks, voice soft now, uncertain.
"It's great," I say, sucking it back, forcing my voice steady.
"I saw it and something in me just needed to get it for you," she says, trailing off. "I'm not even sure why. I don't think you're religious. But I had to."
"I think it's one of the best things I've ever gotten."
The words come out rougher than I mean them to. Before I can think, I grab her arm and pull her into a hug. We stay like that for a moment, her warmth against me, the world moving on outside the bakery window.
I squeeze her a little tighter before letting go, careful not to make it awkward. When I finally pull back, she's smiling at me like she knows exactly what that hug did to me.
"Happy birthday, Raul," she says softly.
"Seriously," I murmur, still trying to get my breathing back under control. "Thank you. This is… a lot."
"It's supposed to be."
I look down at the gift bag, then back up at her. "You did too much."
She rolls her eyes. "Yeah, well. It's your birthday! And I can't get you drunk yet, legally."
That gets a laugh out of me.
We linger by the little table for a second longer, talking while the bakery noise hums around us. I thank her again for the necklace, and she shrugs like it's nothing, though the faint pink in her cheeks says otherwise.
Eventually, she glances at the clock behind the counter and gives me a small, apologetic smile. "I should probably head out."
"Right." The word comes out a little too quickly. I tighten my grip around the birthday bag. "Yeah. Of course."
We stand up together, but instead of leaving side by side, we head out separately like we'd planned from the start. Olivia gives me one last smile before turning toward her car.
I watch her go for a second longer than I should.
Then I look down at the cake box in my hands and head for Aunt Val's, trying not to think about how empty the ride feels without her in it.