Bella is pale and frozen in place, and the mocking that was going on turns to deafening silence.
“Who are those people?” Angel asks, pointing a finger at our two new guests.
I almost worry that Bella is already too pissed to speak. The man and woman look ten years older than they did in the pictures Allie showed me, but I can tell it’s them.
Bella’s mother gives us an uncertain smile as tears gather in her eyes. Her father wipes his own eyes as he stares at us, opening and closing his mouth like he doesn’t know what to say.
Standing, I take Bella in my arms, protectively wrapping against her as they approach. Maverick and Kode walk away, offering us some privacy just as the couple reaches us.
Bella’s mother’s lip quivers, and her father clears his throat.
“We’re sorry,” is the only words her father seems to be able to speak.
“So sorry,” her mother adds, her voice breaking.
I’m not sure how it happens, but Bella is suddenly out of my arms, and she’s hugging her parents, who are both desperately clinging to her like she might vanish if they let go too soon. I decide to give them a moment, since this is definitely something she needs to do on her own.
Leaving them behind, I go to join Maverick by the tables. “We’re ready to cut the cake,” Rain tells us. “Should we wait on Bella?”
I shake my head.
“Nah. She’ll be a while. As long as things go well.”
Rain nudges me with her shoulder. “That was pretty damn good of you.”
“I have my moments,” I say absently as Bella turns and catches my eyes. She doesn’t have to say it. I see the appreciation and gratitude from here.
Allie slowly walks toward them, and I force my gaze away again, watching as Rain hands Brin the knife.
“Cut the cake. I’ll cut myself if I try to wield that monster of a knife,” she tells her.
“But we haven’t even had real food yet,” Brin states, confused as she takes the knife.
The cake is rounded on top, but there’s a lot of icing hiding the oval shape at the base, squaring it off enough to sell it.
“The kids have been begging for cake. Might as well eat dessert first.”
Brin shrugs, and Rye watches, unable to look away, as Brin struggles for a second. Just as she finally digs the knife in, the cake—or rather, the balloon disguised as a cake—explodes, and icing slings everywhere, mostly on Brin.
Her face is a mask of white as she calmly wipes the icing away from her eyes, leaving two slits in the mask of icing on her. She narrows her gaze on Rye while pointing the knife at him a little threateningly.
“You asshole!” she yells.
I notice Wren and Dane are already holding their daughters’ ears, as if they were anticipating a few words not meant for young ears.
“We said no more pranks, and you lasted all of two weeks? You think this is all a joke?” Brin yells, slamming the knife into the table so hard that it sticks into the wood.
Rye’s eyes widen, and he clears his throat. “Look at the—”
“I’ve tried, Rye. I’ve tried my damnedest to give you everything you want, and the one time I ask for something, you can’t do it.”
“Damn it, look at the—”
“I want us to be real. I want to know this is just as serious to you as it is to me,” Brin goes on angrily, verging on tears. “And you can’t do it, can you? You’re stuck here in this comfort zone, and you can’t just—”
“For fuck’s sake,” he barks, interrupting her this time as he storms over to the table and grabs the black box that has icing all over it. Yeah, it wasn’t easy to get that box inside that damn balloon. No one considered the fact that she might not see it after icing blew up in her face.
Unfortunately, Brin is already walking away, not noticing what he’s trying to hand her.