“You’re not still tired? You were so puny last night at my mother’s—I’m worried.”
I shake my head no, but a yawn betrays me.
“We can both stay?” he offers, but I won’t be swayed and he sees in the defiant tilt of my chin. “Fine. But if you feel worse, I’m taking you home.”
“I’ll be fine,” I grumble, “now let’s go or we’ll be late.”
“If you say so.” Mateo eyes me long and hard. “Let me load up the Jeep.”
I follow him outside in case he needs help. But the sight before me is so comical, all I can do is laugh.
“You like?”
He has a trailer hitched to his truck with the sparkly pink Jeep—along with a trailer of its own—ratcheted down in the center.
“I love.”
“Me?” He smirks. “I know. I love you, too.”
“C’mon, Casanova.”
We get a lot of honks and waves on the drive out to Magnolia’s. People are loving the pint-sized custom ride we’re hauling. If the reactions of this many strangers are anything to go by, Willow will absolutely flip for the thing.
Simon meets us in the drive and lets out a low whistle. “Now that’s a damn Powerwheel.”
“It’s nice, right?” Mateo asks, pulling him into one of those weird back-slapping man hugs.
“Nicer than nice.”
“Sweet. Help me get it around back?”
“You got it.”
While they set to work unloading the Jeep, I grab our gift—a Willow-sized racing helmet, painted to match her new ride—from the back seat.
Magnolia meets me at the door with a warm hug. “I’ve missed you!”
“Miss you, too. Where should I put this?”
“I’ve got it.” She takes the box from me and carries it out back, where the party is already in full swing. Luckily, they rented an inflatable bounce house, so the kids don’t even notice Simon and Mateo wheeling the Jeep back.
“Mags, you’re out of spinach dip—Seraphine, you’re here!” Azalea wraps me in a hug.
“There’s more in the fridge.”
“On it!” Azalea bounds off into the house.
“Let’s catch up.” Magnolia leads me over to a set of chairs. “How are things?”
“Which things?”
She nods her head toward Mateo.
“Oh, those things. They’re good…really good.”
“Like, in love good?”
“Who’s in love?” Myla Rose asks, pulling up a chair to join us.
I raise my hand slightly. “Me. I am.”
Myla Rose squeals and scoots her chair even closer. “Since when?”
Shrugging, I confess, “I don’t know; it just sort of happened.”
“What did?” Azalea asks, perching on the arm of Myla’s chair.
“Seraphine is in love with Mateo.”
Azalea rolls her eyes. “Duh. Old news.”
We all turn to look at her.
“What do you mean?” I ask, wondering how she could’ve known—especially when she was so damn blind at the start of her own relationship.
“Girl.” She shakes her head. “The way you look at that man, he may as well have hung the moon.”
“He’s pretty amazing.”
“The real question is,” Myla Rose says, leaning forward, “is it mutual?”
I can feel myself smiling. “Yeah, it is.”
“Who said it first?” Magnolia asks.
“Uh. Well. I almost said it and then felt really stupid, so he said it and yeah…”
My three friends squeal before congratulating me.
“Sorry to break up girl talk,” Simon says, “but it’s time for cake.”
Magnolia smiles up at him with a gaze full of love; I can’t help but wonder if that’s the look Azalea was talking about?
We all move to the back of the deck where they have the cake set up. Mateo meanders over to me, wrapping me in his arms for all to see.
“You look happy,” he murmurs against my neck before kissing me there.
“I am.” I look up at him over my shoulder. “How could I not be?”
A chorus of the Happy Birthday song starts up before I can reply and Willow blows out her candles like a champ. “Pwesents first?” she asks, puppy eyes and all, and like the sucker my cousin is, Magnolia agrees.
“Sure, Wills, presents first.”
At some point, the guys covered the Jeep with a tarp, so sweet Willow hasn’t even noticed its existence.
She tears through package after package like a tiny tornado—one with manners though, as she pauses long enough to thank each gift giver before moving on to the next.
Luckily, the helmet from Mateo and me is toward the back of the pile and is the last gift she opens. Even without knowing what it is for, the pink sparkles have her oohing and ahhing before jamming it onto her head.
“Wook, Daddy! I go fast!” She runs toward Simon and leaps into his arms.
“Hell yes, you do,” he croons.
“Dat’s a bad word.”
“My bad,” he mutters, the tips of his ears turning pink. “Wanna open your last present?”
Her eyes widen comically. “There’s more?”
“Yeah.” He tips his head toward the big, blue tarp. “Go and take a peek underneath that.”
She races over and instead of pulling the tarp off, she scoots under. “Whoa!”
“Do you like it?” Simon asks.
Willow crawls back out. “I dunno. It was too dark to see.”