Chapter 31
“Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday my Everly. Happy birthday to you,” I sing to my once only, and now youngest daughter.
Her sleepy little eyes pop open, the deepest, most beautiful blue. Her curly hair’s an absolute rat’s nest, but she couldn’t care less.
“IT’S MY BIRTHDAY!” Everly screams at the top of her tiny-but-mighty lungs.
“Yes, baby.” I chuckle.
“I’M SEVEN YEARS OLD!” she shouts again, now bouncing atop the princess-perfect bed Greyson gave her, after he moved me into his room.
He didn’t even have to ask. I came home one day and when I went to put away Everly’s laundry, I dropped the basket on the floor and burst into tears that this incredible man has more love in his pinky-finger for my daughter than her biological father has in his entire existence.
“Are you ready for birthday breakfast?” I ask as she leaps into my arms for a hug.
Carter made countless things in my life difficult, if not impossible, but the one that stung the most was not being allowed to celebrate my baby girl’s birthday the way I wanted to. I did what I could with what I had.
Birthday breakfast became our tradition, because Carter left early in the morning to get in some laps at the pool before work. I could make my little girl sprinkle waffles with buttercream dollops, and the extra serving of bacon she always craved but Carter never saved for her.
After the holiday season ended, I’d sock away any extra money I could to get Everly a birthday present. It couldn’t be anything that cluttered the house, made noise or a mess, and that Carter wouldn’t notice I’d spent money I wasn’t allowed to have.
It only took one birthday where I bought Everly a baby doll, and I learned how dearly I would pay for making such a mistake. After that, I took to calling her out of school and taking her for a girls’ day.
The absence phone calls went to the landline, and I always ensured we were home in time so I could erase any messages before Carter got home from work.
Girls’ day for us looked a lot different than the girls’ days we’ve been included in since moving to Swiftwater. Ours were quiet and simple. We’d spend the morning at the library, and some years, were lucky enough that Everly’s birthday fell on a craft-corner or story-time day.
The closest movie theater to our home opened at ten in the morning, and it was an easy enough bus ride.
I always offered to get her anything she wanted at the theater—popcorn, soda, candy, whatever her tiny heart desired.
Every year, my angel baby would inadvertently break my heart when she’d only ask for one small treat.
Even at such a young age, Everly noticed Carter’s stringency and stinginess.
Somehow, she knew I didn’t have much and didn’t want to waste or take advantage of my open offer.
So, I’d buy her treat with a teary smile as well as a small popcorn to share, and we’d enjoy whatever animated children’s film was showing that day.
This year is different. We’re safe. I’m financially secure, strong as a woman and a mother, and we have Greyson’s unwavering support.
I can give Everly any kind of birthday she wants.
Since she’s never had a chance to voice her opinions, I waited until today to ask how she’d like to spend her birthday.
Today, for the first time in either of our lives, the world is our oyster, and I’m vibrating with the endless possibilities. I carry my little monkey out to the kitchen and stop dead in my tracks, nearly toppling both of us to the floor.
A second round of “Happy Birthday” is sung and Everly bounces with glee the entire time. Greyson’s transformed the open living space into a department store.
“Wh-what’s all this?” I stutter.
I don’t feel how tightly I’m holding Everly’s hand until Greyson gently pries my fingers from hers and passes her tiny hand to Harper.
“This, honey, is the first of many birthday surprises today. I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve made some plans for both of my girls’ birthdays,” Greyson explains.
“But my birth—”
“Your birthday is next week, I know. But neither of you have ever been celebrated properly, and I thought seeing her joy would be one of the best gifts I could give you.” He grabs at the back of his neck, as if he’s made an error.
“Seeing her happy is all I’ve ever wanted,” I choke out, my throat tight with emotion.
He clears his own throat and transforms into a sweeter version of the bossy Greyson I fell in love with.
“Liv assured me she and Harper picked the perfect birthday outfits and set you up with anything you might want or need to get ready this morning.”
Harper and Everly race into the living room and tissue paper flurries like snow. Greyson admonishes Harper but I tell him to let them be. Their happiness means more to me than anything that could be in those packages.
All said and done, the girls have on the cutest party dresses. They look like miniature fairytale princesses in tiaras and costume jewelry. Greyson’s barely holding back a nuclear meltdown brewing over the glitter now dusting every surface of the house.
Livy chose a dress for me more beautiful than I’d ever dare put on. If Greyson’s ravenous stare tells me anything, he thinks it’s beautiful too. I’m wrapped in buttery, knit-sweater material in an elegant cream.
It’s long sleeved and hits me just below the knees. The high neckline is surprisingly flattering and showcases the stunning sapphire pendant hanging around my neck. My feet are cradled in brown cowboy booties, and I opted to pin my hair back on one side, draping the mass of waves over one shoulder.
I wavered on what makeup to put on, but in the end, I opted for mascara and tinted lip balm—though I admittedly chose a more vibrant shade today.
And Greyson, he looks downright edible. So good I want to send the girls away to the surprise and go back to bed with him as my gift.
He’s wearing a crisp variation of his usual outfit. A pressed flannel, navy blue today, buttoned over a white undershirt, tucked into starched Wranglers that hug his ass perfectly and hang neatly over his cowboy boots.
The cherry on top is the chocolate brown cowboy hat he places on his head, tipped just-so in a way that makes me want to go change my panties.
“Alright ladies, your royal carriage awaits.” Greyson shuffles us through the door and down the stairs to pile into his pre-warmed truck. March in the Colorado Rockies is not to be trifled with, and I’m grateful Greyson’s such a gentleman and takes unrelenting care of us.
He won’t tell me where we’re going, though I figure it out when we turn off the main highway onto the road that leads to Lucky Spurs Ranch.
Now late morning, Everly’s excitement hasn’t worn off one bit, if anything, it’s grown. Bearing witness to her cherishing every word her big sister says fills my heart so much it aches. This is what she deserved all along—a family.
We pass the main house and stables, confusion overtaking my joy by the second. Greyson covers my hands with his large, warm palm to stop the intense twisting I’ve been inflicting on my fingers.
He parks in front of a massive barn that looks to be brand new, or freshly renovated. Before he can get any of our doors, people descend on the truck. I’m pulled out by Delilah, who quickly links arms with Izzy, who’s carrying my little princess.
Livy swings Harper through the air, both of them giggling like fiends. What we walk into is a scene I’ll recall to my dying day. The barn’s been transformed into an elegant event space, twinkling lights gracing the rafters, visible even in the daylight.
I can’t discern one delectable aroma from another, wafting through the open space from tables set in an intimate arc. Walking through the space in awe, I’m perfectly warm and comfortable, shocked that such a massive, outdoor structure is so temperate.
“Oh good, you’re here! Everyone! They’re here!” Cecelia hollers across the barn.
I’ll be eternally grateful to Delilah as she deposits me in Greyson’s warm embrace, effectively rescuing me from the incoming matriarch. I adore Cecelia, but I’m extremely overwhelmed and overstimulated by the shock of the day and need a moment of safety in Greyson’s arms.
Knowing this without having to ask, he envelops me in a firm hug, his hand shielding the back of my head.
“We can leave right now if this is too much, no questions asked, honey,” he says between kisses to the top of my head.
“No, look how happy the girls are. I want to stay, but would it be too much to ask for…” I can’t ask. I shouldn’t.
I need to pull myself together and put on a happy face. Carter beat that into me early in our marriage—never to embarrass him at events.
“Nothing’s ever too much. What do you need, Mia? The answer’s already yes,” Greyson says, pulling back slightly to meet my eyes.
I can trust Greyson. I can tell him anything. He won’t hurt me.
“Could we have a minute alone to talk?” I ask, concern tweaking his brow nearly imperceptibly.
He wraps his arm around my shoulders and guides me to a portion of the barn that’s been partitioned off, perhaps for storage, or staff.
“Talk to me, honey. I’ll fix it, whatever it is.” His no-nonsense disposition brings a brief smile to one side of my lips.
Swallowing my lingering fears and pride, I admit my truth.
“I’m overwhelmed by the love and support, and the celebration focused specifically on me and Everly.
It’s difficult to go from being a burden to my family, to being treated like Carter’s property, to this.
Please don’t take this the wrong way. I’m so appreciative and grateful, everything’s perfect.
I’m just struggling to make sense of it all. I don’t deserve this.”
Greyson regards me intently, drawing measured deep breaths in and out of his nose, trying to calm himself. The funny thing is nothing about his brooding nature or intensity make me afraid. He’s my safe place.
Drawing a hand down his face, he takes one final deep breath before adjusting his stance.
“I’m not getting into the ‘don’t deserve this’ bullshit until later when I can redden your ass for thinking so low of yourself.”
I gulp, torn between arousal from his promise of pleasurable punishment, and wishing I could take it back, so we don’t have to discuss it at all.
“I wanted to give you and Everly the birthday party of all birthday parties to make up for the ones you spent alone, sad, and afraid. But if it doesn't make you happy, I don’t give a fuck about anything out there.” He points out towards the party.
“I only care about you.” He’s eerily calm, trying not to spook me like a stray cat.
“What do you need, honey? Quiet space? I’ll take you to the main house right now.”
I shake my head.
“Do you want to go check out the party?”
I shake my head again, growing furiously embarrassed by the second.
“I’m ruining everything. I’m so sorry Greyson.” Tears well in my eyes and I’m grateful I chose the waterproof mascara today.
Instead of insisting I’m not ruining anything and telling me not to apologize, he surprises me, as he so often does, and speaks with his body.
He pulls me to him softly, gently coaxing me forward the last few inches, brushes the hair from my face, and kisses me. The kiss isn’t ravenous. It isn’t loaded with passion and unspoken desire. It’s soft and slow, as if he’s trying to draw the pain from my body and replace it with love.
He puts me back together, bit by broken bit, with his love, as he has since our first kiss. We kiss like this for a long while, but it never progresses into anything sexual or demanding. I pull away, feeling much steadier than before.
“I think I’d like to go back to the party, but only if you don’t leave my side. I can’t do this without you. I need you.”
“Anything you need, honey,” Greyson promises.
Does he realize he heals me each time he prioritizes my needs, validates my emotions, and treats me as an equal?
I’m gifted another sweet kiss and with a deep breath, we re-enter the party where Everly and I are celebrated and lavished with love within an inch of our lives.
“Greyson, my god. A horse?” I laugh, unable to wrap my head around the absurdity. “You really got the girls a horse.”
In a freshly mucked stall at Lucky Spurs Ranch, is a stunning bay mare who our children have named Pickle.
For our combined birthday celebration, Greyson gifted us three girls not only the horse, but also every piece of equipment and outfitting a cowgirl could ever need or dream of. Spoiled is the understatement of the century.
I decline mounting Pickle for two reasons. First, because I don’t want to ruin my party dress, and second, because I’m fairly confident my stomach would revolt being jostled around.
Cecelia outdid herself for the party. Instead of a formal sit-down meal, she went for a seemingly endless array of finger foods: sliders, mini quiches, hand pies, pigs in a blanket, toothpick meatballs, stuffed mushrooms, jalapeno poppers, and my favorite, peach tartlets.
To say it was a hit is a gross understatement. I’m pretty sure Izzy cleared out the tray of mini tacos—she playfully bit Reid’s hand when he went for one. I’m no lip-reader, but based on her intense blushing, he told her where he’d like to bite her.
Greyson, being the man he is, brought me treat after treat and whispered to me there’s a wrapped tray of peach tartlets waiting for me to take home.
I’ve never been so excited for baked goods—and it wasn’t the promise of pastry that had my core clenching.
It was Greyson’s deep voice rumbling in my ear.
Now I stand wrapped in my man’s arms, warding off the March chill as we stand in the stables, Everly losing her ever-loving mind over Pickles.
James catches Greyson’s attention from across the open space and gives him a single nod. Greyson’s arms tighten around me, pressing as much of me into him as possible.
“Can I take the birthday girl home to celebrate properly?” He nips my ear, shooting sparks dancing across my chilled skin.
“I’d like that. Let me round up the kids.” I try to leave his arms, but his hold is steel.
“The kids are staying the night with their grandparents, aunts, and uncles,” he says.
My heart twinges as he seamlessly includes Everly in their family. Our family.
“Race you to the truck!” I holler, running as fast as I can in the moonlit night, laughing the whole way.
His playful threats draw closer; I know he’s letting me win. With my heart beating out of my chest, I can’t help but revel in what a difference a year makes.
Last birthday I successfully went unnoticed. At least if Carter wasn’t focused on me, my body remained free of more bruises than it already bore.
Last birthday I promised myself I was leaving him. Charlie’s warmth wrapped around me when the decision solidified in my heart.
Last birthday I started socking away money in earnest. To escape.
This birthday I’m free.