1. Olivia #3
“Here’s your cake,” I said when the furor in my head became too much.
And as usual, Ginna’s wide, shining grin made me warm, especially when I noticed that she’d switched her fang gem to a Hello Kitty one.
I personally always kept my canines human unless I was in my animal form, but Ginna had never felt the need to hide that part of herself.
From what I understood, most humans thought she’d gotten a cosmetic procedure to give her vamp fangs.
“Ugh, you’re such a darling! You spoil me, sissy. One of these days you gotta let me fly you up to NYC and we’ll hit the town! Spa days, my gym, the nightlife! All of it! And those city boys would love a country girl like you. City girls, too, in case you’ve aged into that.”
“I have not,” I said with a chuckle. Women were beautiful, and I often found myself wishing I could look like others, but I never felt that same titillation I got in the presence of a very intriguing man.
Then again, I hadn’t even felt that for a man lately. Somehow, without me noticing, my life had fallen into a routine that was work-home-monthly pack run-then work again. When had that happened? I’d had a social life once… hadn’t I?
“That’s fine. But seriously, send me your schedule, and let’s do this.”
“Yes, let’s,” I agreed.
It was safe to agree because Ginna, with all her chaotic magnetism, would inevitably forget by the time she got home.
She’d throw herself into her next adventure, which would keep her occupied for at least three months.
I’d long since learned not to take it personally, and if I was being honest, the whole idea intimidated me.
The farthest I’d been away from home and pack was my high school marching band trip to NYC to see a play on Broadway.
Was… was I a fuddy-duddy? I was only thirty!
More thoughts crowded into my mind, turning the orderly queue of my stream of consciousness into a standing-room-only throng of very angry patrons.
It was entirely too occupying, and I didn’t even realize I was handing out slices of cake to everyone who walked by until one of my aunties cleared her throat.
I blinked at her, coming back to reality and recognizing the face but blanking on the name. Olivia-Three… I was pretty sure. Sometimes it was hard to remember and I didn’t know if that was down to my memory fraying at the edges or the fact that a lot of us were a bit too similar.
“Aren’t you going to have a piece, cara?”
“Oh yeah, of course!” I answered quickly, smiling brightly like a good host was supposed to.
“Well, I hope you put it aside then.”
“Yeah, yeah, no worries at all, auntie!” The words came out of my mouth before I fully understood what she meant, and it wasn’t until she was happily tottering away with her slice that my hearing slotted into its position.
Whipping around, I looked at the massive sheet cake that had taken four people to carry. There were no slices left.
None.
Not a one.
In fact, all that was left was a sliver from when I’d cut a slice a bit too wonky.
“How did that happen?” I gasped involuntarily. I’d made sure there were about three dozen slices set to the side, and I knew I didn’t go through all of them.
So had people been walking up behind me and helping themselves until there was none left for the birthday girl?
What the f—
“Toast!”
“A toast, a toast!”
“Cin cin!”
Everyone around me started raising their glasses. I went to do the same on instinct before realizing I didn’t have a drink.
Huh.
Papa stepped forward, his face aglow with pride (and maybe a little too much shifter wine), before he lifted his glass.
“To figlia mia, my daughter, my precious Olivia, named after the same fruits that give us so much joy,” he started, and though I was already blushing furiously, my ego loved hearing such praise poured over my name.
Sometimes the constant tasks and saving the day made me feel like my family took me for granted, but when my father looked at me with such delight, it made it all worth it.
“It is this day that we celebrate you coming into the world. My last baby girl, my principessa, who no doubt would save the entire world if she was not so busy saving all of our behinds on a regular basis!”
There were some chuckles and some cheers.
I felt like I was glowing. I liked to think of myself as low maintenance, not needing tons of accolades or assurance, but there was something about the way my father beamed at me, his eyes misty with unshed tears, his cheeks red from the wine, that made everything else fall away.
It was like the moment was happening just between him and me, an alpha closer to retirement than his heyday and his baby daughter who had yet to enter hers.
“To Olivia!” he cried, raising his glass high into the air, then swigging it back.
Suddenly, those thoughts about the cake and everything else didn’t seem so important as all the members of my family chorused my name.
I was overwhelmed with the love, and for once, it was enough to silence the anxiety that so often occupied the forefront of my mind.
“To Olivia!”
“To Olivia!”
I basked in it, well and truly, and although I tried to savor each second of it, it was over far too soon. Not because of an explosion, or some other catastrophe caused by the trio of terror, but by Serafina clearing her throat.
“Since we have you all here, there’s something Cillian and I have been keeping from you.”
It was as if all the jubilation instantly evaporated as every set of eyes focused on my pregnant sister.
Horror rushed through me. While miscarriages weren’t common among other shifters, they weren’t unheard of, and my sister hadn’t exactly been having the easiest pregnancy.
Not to mention her history of complications...
But no, her expression was all wrong for it to be bad news.
“As I’m sure some of you noticed, this pregnancy has been a little different. We didn’t want to jinx it, but now that we’re largely in the clear, we wanted to announce that we are having twins!”
The response was instantaneous. Questions were shouted from all across the yard, and a cadre of aunties practically descended upon Serafina to congratulate her as well as feel her belly.
If they were strangers, I would have beaten them off with a stick, but seeing the joy written across my sister’s features as she laughed and cried along with people told me that the physical touch was more than welcome.
For a moment, I was filled with such happiness for her.
Although our lives looked very different, I had always been just as proud of her as I was of Ginna in pursuing her own dreams. Serafina had wanted to be a stay-at-home mother and homemaker since she was old enough to understand the meaning of the phrase.
She loved gardening and making things. Cooking dinner and being able to forge all of the memories she could with her children.
Having twins and a large family like the one we’d grown up in was the happily-ever-after she’d always wanted.
But, as thrilled as I was for her, and as much as I wanted to go over and embrace her, a not-so-insignificant part of my subconscious bubbled to the surface with a bitter tone to its whispered words.
Why did it have to be now? Why at my birthday party? Why during a speech that was celebrating me?
Honestly, it was embarrassing, and I was glad nobody could hear my thoughts, because they would definitely tell me how petulant I was being. But at the same time, it felt like my moment was over before I even really got a chance to enjoy it. Just once, I wanted something to be entirely for me.
I tried to shove that jealous sentiment away, to tell myself the first multiples in our family since the triplets was exciting, and it was only practical to share it at an event where everyone was already gathered, but despite my best efforts, that pain within me kept growing.
Well, if I couldn’t maintain happiness for my sister in what was a very joyous moment, I’d have to remove myself from the situation until I could get my act together.
Yes, I would appreciate it if my birthday party could be more about me, but I wasn’t going to make a scene to get my way.
At least nobody stopped me as I went inside.
I closed the door behind me, the cheers and excited questions outside loud enough that I didn’t think I had to worry about anyone overhearing my uneven breathing. I was breathing unevenly because I felt like I was about to cry.
“Come on, Olivia, pull yourself together. It’s just a birthday, and you are a thirty-year-old woman! Do birthdays even matter anymore?”
No, not really. Not until a shifter reached about ninety or one hundred at least.
That thought wasn’t exactly comforting, and it did nothing to stem the stupid surge of emotions threatening to ruin my day.
I moved to the fridge, hoping there would be a secret treat inside to fix my feelings or distract me from the growing storm, but before I reached it, I heard the distinctive sound of retching.
Violent retching.
“Hello?” I asked in concern as I followed the sound to one of the downstairs bathrooms on the farthest part of the house.
Normally, I like to think that I would be able to pick up on the scent of whoever had walked down the corridor before me, but considering how many people had been in and out of the house all day, there wasn’t really a hope of that.
But what I did recognize was the groan that sounded from the partially shut door at the end of the hall.
“Rolando?” I asked, rapping gently on the door. A weak, pitiful moan came in response. Oh dear. I had a good idea of what was going on. “I’m gonna open the door, okay?”