When Tam returns to the table, I sense a presence beside me and glance right to find Zaleya with a mini-cake on a plate in her hands.
Oh no.
“I heard y’all were having a party and I wanted to join your celebration,” Zaleya’s voice bellows loud, drawing attention to our table.
“Oh God, please, don’t do this,” I mutter under my breath.
“Did you know today is Eva’s birthday?” Zaleya says, leaning toward Tam.
“Today is your birthday?” Tam’s eyes are alight with enthusiasm and surprise. “How old are you?”
“Tam,” Marnie warns as she did earlier about inappropriate questions.
“She’s forty,” Zaleya announces to our table.
I place my elbow on the table and perch my forehead in my palm. My face heats a thousand flames of embarrassment as Zaleya encourages everyone to start singing “Happy Birthday.”
Tam seems to be singing the loudest, or maybe it’s just that she’s the closest to me. When the song is done, Tam encourages me to blow out the four candles on the cake, one for each decade, I assume.
I huff and puff, and the four flames flicker out.
And as sad as I thought the moment might feel, I actually don’t feel too bad turning forty.
Not when there’s cake and an angel singing in my ear.
Well, screeching a bit, but the moment is still rather . . . magical.
8
“Hel-loDaddy.” The salesclerk beside me mumbles as I’m helping her close out registers. We have a half hour before closing time and the two hours I intended to make up from teatime turned into four. “I want a lick of that peppermint stick.”
My head pops up to who she’s objectifying in the toy department when I see Zebb looking at something on a shelf.
The clerk is quick to circle the register station and head to Zebb. “May I help you with something?” With the twirl of her hair around a finger, she’s offering him more than shopping advice.
Zebb gazes over her head and nods at me. “I’m here for her.”
The clerk partially spins, pouts, and turns back to him. “Sure.”
Was that word a statement or a question? Either way, Zebb’s eyes are on me. It’s been ten days since I’ve seen him and he looks amazing in an oil-skin jacket over another flannel shirt and dark jeans.
I finish what I’m doing with the computer and trade places with the clerk, addressing Zebb. “How may I help you, sir?” I bite the corner of my lip and Zebb slowly smiles.
“I’m here to buy a birthday present for a lady friend.”
“A lady friend?” I arch a brow.
“Feels a little strange to call her a girlfriend at our age.”
“Girlfriend? How long have you been dating?” I play along.
“We’ve been out three times but then there was this one summer when we were young…” He chews his lip while his eyes appraise my outfit. I’m wearing the red pencil skirt again and a thin-weight black sweater.
“She must be special,” I tease, fingering one of the stuffed animals on the shelf beside us.
“She is, and I messed up. I didn’t know it was her birthday.”
I turn back to him. “It doesn’t matter.”