Chapter 35
TIANA
“Happy birthday, Sylas!”
A chorus of family and friends joins in, filling the house with laughter as we crowd around the dining table.
Sylas practically vibrates with excitement.
I steady the robot-themed cake in my hands while he grins.
“Make a wish!” Brianna calls.
Sylas squeezes his eyes shut, holding the moment hostage for an extra few seconds before blowing out all seven candles.
“Can I have the biggest piece?” he asks.
I hand him a plate. “You can have a birthday-sized piece.”
His eyes light up. “That’s awesome! Thanks, TJ.”
I glance across the room. Griffin is standing near the patio doors talking to Henson and Worth. Or at least pretending to.
Because every once in a while, I catch his gaze drifting in my direction before he immediately looks away.
Griffin has been making sure there’s enough space between us to keep things professional. Enough silence to pretend nothing happened. And enough control to make me feel like I’m the only one still standing in the wreckage of our fallout.
On top of it all, I have to get over the fact that Mr. Patel sold Willow’s to the Aldercrest Group. I hate how stupidly attached I got to a café that was never mine to lose.
I look away and focus on cutting slices of cake.
I know I asked him to leave me alone.
But I’m angry.
Angry that I let him get under my skin the way he did.
Angry that I let him touch me.
Angry that I let myself believe the way he looked at me meant something.
Most of all, I’m angry that I ignored all the signs that he wasn’t ready.
I understand grief. Maybe not the way Griffin does, but I understand loss. I understand how it can keep you frozen in place long after everyone else expects you to move on.
What I don’t understand is having sex with someone and then acting like it never happened.
I never thought Griffin was the kind of man who would make a woman feel disposable. But then I realize that’s exactly what I’ve become. The woman who got fucked and then forgotten. And the worst part is, I let it happen. I let myself care, even after all the warnings I gave myself.
Sylas digs into his cake, blue icing already smeared across his face and probably in his hair. I busy myself wiping his chin, using him as a human shield from the ache in my chest and from the questioning looks Mya keeps sending me.
She corners me as I’m stacking empty plates on the patio table.
“You okay?”
“I’m fine,” I reply, maybe a little sharper than I intend. “I’m just still upset about Willow’s.”
Which isn’t a lie…
But Willow’s isn’t the reason my chest has been tight all afternoon.
Mya gives me that look, the one that says she knows I’m full of shit.
She leans closer, lowering her voice beneath the cacophony of kids hollering over who gets the next turn on the bounce house. “You wanna tell me why Griffin’s been staring at you like you’re a live grenade since the party started?”
I look down at the plates, stacking them with unnecessary force. “He hasn’t.”
She snorts. “Sis, don’t piss on my leg and tell me it’s raining. What happened?”
I keep my eyes on my hands and let out a sigh, bracing for the onslaught of questions. “We hooked up. Once. Or twice, technically.”
“Oh my fucking God, TJ! I knew it!” Mya whisper-hisses. “I knew you both liked each other! Why didn’t you tell me? Do you want it to be more, or—?”
“Breathe, Mya. There’s nothing to tell. It happened on a whim, and obviously it was a mistake.
I’m not into him like that, anyway. And he’s clearly in the ‘I’m a hot mess and shouldn’t be dating my kid’s nanny’ denial phase, because he’s barely spoken to me since.
So now I’m just gonna do my job and keep it moving. ”
Mya’s eyebrows inch higher. “Wow, okay.” I brace, expecting more, but she just says, “You need tequila.”
“Yeah, maybe.” She’s wrong, though. I don’t need tequila. I need to not dissolve every time Griffin walks within spitting distance. I need to not scan every room for him, to catch the tail of his cologne even outside in the summer air.
“Don’t let him off easy, TJ,” Mya says.
“I’m not. He’s the one who can’t even be in the same room as me.”
“He’s in the ‘room’ right now.” She cuts her eyes toward the sliding door, where Griffin is laughing at something Worth just said, face creased into a smile that looks like a lie. “And has been micro-glancing at you for the past hour.”
“Micro-glancing is not a thing.”
“It’s totally a thing. Don’t change the subject.”
I want to tell her that the subject is unchangeable, that there’s only one thing cycling through my head on repeat and that’s the fact that Griffin can’t even meet my gaze.
Mya watches me for a beat, then sighs. “You know you’re allowed to have feelings and want things, right?”
“I’m not trying to be one of those girls who ruins her own life over some gorgeous lumberjack with a dead wife, Mya.”
She laughs. “You won’t ruin your life. You are, however, allowed to sleep with said lumberjack.”
“Ugh. I just want to rip off this tablecloth, send the plates crashing to the patio, and just yell at him. I want to matter enough to fuck up his day.”
“Listen, you can be mad at him, Tiana. He needs to know that he messed up, so give him hell.”
“I thought this would be the part where you tell me to take the high road.”
Mya snorts. “The high road is for suckers. I’m saying stick up for yourself. You can be broody, but you’re never quiet. That’s not you.”
She’s right. I don’t suffer silently. I rage-clean and do sarcastic banter. I don’t do this, carefully walking around someone else’s pain like it’s a bomb that could go off at any second.
Mya waits until a group of toddlers barrels by before continuing, lowering herself into the patio chair across from me and pulling her knees up into a pretzel.
“Look, you know I don’t play therapist, but you’re not crazy for wanting whatever it is you want.
Maybe he’s just scared. Or, hell, maybe he’s an asshole.
Either way, you gotta make yourself the main character here. ”
I sigh. “You think?”
“I’m serious, TJ. You keep acting like if you bury your feelings deep enough, they’ll go away. Spoiler: they won’t.”
She makes a point of glancing over at Griffin, and I risk a peek. He is half-listening to Worth, but even from here, I can read the tension in his body.
I stare at him through the glass, the way he cradles his beer, shoulders hunched, jaw clenched, the tight click of his mouth as he attempts something like a smile.
I want to shake him. Or kiss him. Or both. Maybe I just want him to see me.
“He’s pathetic,” I say, almost convincing myself.
I stack the last of the cake plates and stand, needing to be in motion or else I’ll combust.
“He’s a mess.” Mya corrects. “But so are you right now. It’s why you two are so… compatible.”
I want to argue that I’m not a mess, but I can’t, because in the last weeks, I’ve spent more time thinking about a man who barely acknowledges my existence than I have thinking about myself, which is a little embarrassing.
We’re interrupted by sugar-high shrieks.
The kids migrate to the front yard for the birthday science show, and someone has apparently gotten ahold of the dry ice. I slip away from Mya, grateful for the out, and start herding the children toward the scientist.
Sylas is front and center, his party hat askew. The science guy, a college kid in a tie-dye lab coat, holds up a two-liter bottle and a balloon. The crowd of kids goes wild, chanting for an explosion.
“Stand back, everybody!” he yells. “We’re about to make a rocket!”
I hang back near the edge of the patio, smiling as he launches a cloud of colored smoke into the air.
The kids lose their minds, including Sylas.
Once the experiment is over, he sprints across the yard. “TJ!”
A second later, he crashes into me at full speed, nearly sending both of us stumbling backward. My heart lurches, and I wrap my arms around him.
“Having fun?”
“The best fun!”
His face is flushed pink with excitement.
For weeks, I’ve been planning this party. I wanted his seventh birthday to be something he’d remember, especially since I probably won’t be around for his eighth. The thought of that makes my chest hurt, but I brush it off for now. Today is meant for happiness and smiles.
Sylas squeezes me tighter. Then, completely out of nowhere, he says, “I love you, TJ.”
My breath catches and I look down at him.
He just smiles up at me like he didn’t just drop a bomb into the middle of my chest.
“Oh. I love you more, bug.” My voice comes out embarrassingly shaky.
Sylas’s grin widens before he wiggles free and runs back to his friends, leaving me standing there trying very hard not to cry at a children’s birthday party.
God. I’m going to miss that little guy.
“You okay?”
I glance up.
Griffin is standing a few feet away holding a bottle of water. I hadn’t even noticed him walk over.
His gaze follows Sylas disappearing back into the crowd before it returns to me.
And for the first time in weeks, something in his expression softens. “He said he loves you.”
I clear my throat. “Yeah.”
A small smile tugs at the corner of Griffin’s mouth. “He doesn’t say that to everyone.”
My heart squeezes all over again.
Neither do I.
Griffin rubs the back of his neck. “I wanted to thank you.”
I blink. “For what?”
“For this.” He gestures toward the backyard. “The party.”
I shrug. “It wasn’t a big deal.”
“It is.” His gaze drifts back toward his son. “This is exactly what Sy wanted for his seventh birthday. You did a great job.”
Warmth settles in my chest, because despite everything that’s happened between us, hearing that still matters more than I’d like.
“Well, you’re welcome. I’m glad he likes it.”
“He loves it.”
Our interaction almost feels normal, but the moment breaks when someone calls Griffin’s name from across the yard.
He thanks me again then walks away. And I hate how long I watch him go.
An hour later, the pool portion of the party is in full swing.
Half the kids are already soaked. The other half are trying to soak everyone else.