He jumped to his feet. “How long have you been standing there?”
“Long enough. Is it true? Do you really believe we can make the changes needed?”
A sense of relief washed over him and his shoulders relaxed fractionally. “Of course. I told Roger I supported the changes completely.”
She hugged him tightly. “I knew you supported me but to hear you defend it to Roger? That means the world to me.”
His arms automatically went around her, holding her in place. Meanwhile, guilt prodded him, not letting him enjoy the moment as much as he normally would have.
She stepped back and took his hand. “Now I have a surprise for you.”
“A surprise?”
*
Miranda led himout of his office and down the hall, her mouth curved in a mischievous smile. She hurried him along but not before he noticed some of the cubicles and desks empty, office doors open but no one inside. The floor was deserted, like a ghost town. Just after lunch, everyone should have been milling about, phones ringing, conversations a dull roar. Puzzled, he let himself be dragged along until they came to a closed conference room door. She pressed her finger to her lips and opened the door.
A dozen or so voices yelled, “Surprise!”
He jumped and glared at Miranda. He grabbed her arm and pulled her close, whispering, “What the hell?”
She wiggled out from his hold and stood next to a big birthday cake with the words,Happy Birthday, written on them in flowing red script. He flushed immediately. How the hell had they found out that it was his birthday? The answer came immediately on the heels of the question.
His mother.
She had called earlier that morning to wish him a happy birthday, woke him up as usual at the time of his birth. Four o’clock. He had been sleeping at Miranda’s, his cell phone waking both up. He had thought he caught it before Miranda woke up fully but clearly she had been feigning sleep. He waited for the anger but instead, all he felt was embarrassment and a warm, pleasant feeling, like being part of a family.
Miranda’s eyes shone and she had a wide grin on her face, eager to hear what he had to say. Honestly, he had no idea. He couldn’t remember the last time he celebrated his birthday and no other team had ever taken the time to find out when it was. He was unaccustomed to being the center of attention, instead preferring to be on the sidelines, hidden from the cameras. Yet here he was, front and center, with everyone staring at him expectantly.
The cheers died down and they watched him.
He shook his head and smiled. “I can’t believe you all did this for me. Thank you so much. Cake was exactly what I needed today.”
He spied a plate next to the cake. Oatmeal raisin. Memories assaulted him from his younger years, stopping by Grace Ann’s desk and her slipping him a cookie or three whenever he visited his father. She always had a full cookie jar for him and, when his father passed, a plate of cookies had been dropped by the house anonymously. He knew who it had been but he was in too much pain to say anything.
He searched the faces until he found hers. He took two long strides until he stood in front of her. “You remembered.”
“Always.” She laid a hand cautiously on his cheek, a fond look on her face.
He smiled and gathered her up in a hug. “Thank you for now, and back then,” he whispered in her ear.
The tears in her eyes as he pulled away let him know that she knew exactly to which event he was referring.
Miranda also had tears in her eyes, a little sheen that only he could see. She handed him a knife. “Be careful. I know you’re out of practice cutting cake.”
“I think I can manage.” He cut the cake into several slices and Miranda served them. Most people had to go back to their desk, taking slices for their colleagues who had remained at their desks to answer calls. He thanked each one of them, making sure to add a name wherever possible. It wasn’t as difficult as he had imagined. The names came easily, as did the conversation. Finally, the room was empty except for him, Cole, Jason, Stacia, and Miranda.
He pulled out a chair next to Miranda and took a piece of cake. German chocolate. His favorite.
“How did you pull this off?”
She shrugged. “Your mom. Took a little convincing but she said German chocolate was your favorite. She even told me the bakery she used to use. How is it?”
He took a bite, letting the chocolate, pecan, and coconut flavors roll along his tongue.
He closed his eyes and moaned. “Oh, my God. I haven’t had German chocolate cake this good since I was a kid. It’s exactly as I remembered.” He opened his eyes and looked at her. “Thank you.”
Relief flashed across her face, so quick he thought he had imagined it. He resisted the urge to kiss her, with the audience staring at them. They all ate quietly until finally Cole stood.