“You should have a label on you, but what it would say isn’t fit for print.” Neil stood and moved out of Mom’s way as she approached with the knife.
“This is a child’s birthday party,” I reminded them both.
Rudy fixed me with a withering glare. “Yes, mother.”
Though I was sure he didn’t mean to touch a nerve, he sure did. Christmases and birthdays would always be difficult, I suspected. I was keenly aware that I wasn’t Olivia’s mother, but never so much as when a milestone passed that Emma and Michael should be there for.
If anyone noticed my discomfort, they didn’t say it. In fact, everyone was remarkably well-adjusted today.
“I can’t believe she’s already two,” Neil said, coming to stand beside me.
I crossed my arms and leaned back on him. “One year down, sixteen more to go.”
“And college. And probably the space between college and getting married, if she’s like her mother,” Neil reminded me.
“I’m not eager to get rid of her,” I said, hugging myself a little tighter.
“Nor am I.”
“Okay, who’s ready for presents?” Laurence called, coming out to the patio with a gift bag in each hand.
“You spoil her,” Valerie scolded, but whenever she spoke to him, her face lit up like the sun.
“It’s what grandfathers are supposed to do,” Neil said. “But she has cake to eat, first.”
“Wait, wait,” Mom said, licking frosting off her thumb as she set down a plate. “I want to get a picture. Tony, can you?”
He nodded and pulled his phone from his pocket. “Okay. Who wants in?”
“Everybody should be in,” I said, and frowned. “Which means extreme selfie time.”
“It’s a good thing Tony has long arms,” Mom said, setting the knife aside.
Rudy pushed back his chair and stood. “Yes, he does.”
I wagged my finger at him.
The doors opened and Holli and Deja spilled out, bickering.
“No, I told you it was at two!” Deja scolded Holli, who teetered behind her on tall-heeled, knee-high purple suede boots.
“Olli!” Olivia squealed, opening and closing her little hands.
“Come try to get in on this,” I said, waving my hand to indicate they should join us as we all squeezed around Valerie and Olivia. I leaned down, Neil took a knee, Holli hurried over and seated herself on the grass in front of the chair, Rudy leaned one elbow on Neil’s shoulder, and Mom, Tony, Laurence and Deja made up the other side. Tony held the phone way out—he really did have impressively long arms—and somehow got us all in the frame, more or less.
“Smile!” Valerie told Olivia, pointing up at the phone. Olivia looked up and gave her biggest, brightest grin, baring all of her tiny, unevenly spaced teeth.
Tony tapped the button, and all of us froze on the screen for a blink. He took another couple of frames, just to be safe.
In the center of the photo was one of the luckiest little girls in the world. Not because she would be spoiled all to hell with material things by her grandparents—though she definitely would—or because she would have the very best opportunities in life. But because everyone around her loved her.
Tony and my Mom, who considered Olivia as much a part of their lives as they would have a child of mine.
Rudy, who took his role as Emma’s godfather beyond the call of duty and endlessly criticized the outfits I dressed his goddaughter-by-proxy in.
Holli and Deja, who were always there for me, no matter what was happening in my life, so I could be there for Olivia.
Laurence, who loved Valerie, and Valerie, who’d endured unimaginable pain with him at her side. Sure, she drove me crazy a lot of the time, but there was no denying we both had Olivia’s best interests at heart, and I loved her for that.