Sweet Dandelion

“Regardless,” he continues without me adding anything to the conversation, “I … I got you something.” His lips thin. “It’s in my place. Come up with me and I’ll grab it. I want you to have it today, while it’s still your birthday.”

“It’s your birthday too,” I remind him, as if he doesn’t already know, “aren’t you going to do anything?”

He presses his lips together as we continue to walk in sync side by side.

“No.”

“Why not?” I’m being nosy, I know, but I can’t help it. “Birthdays are meant to be celebrated.”

His lips work back and forth and I can visibly see the tension clinging to his body as he fights with himself over whether or not he wants to voice what’s on his brain.

Finally he looks down at me, his brows drawn. “If I can’t celebrate how I want to, with who I want to, what’s the point? I made myself a cake, that’s enough.”

“You made your own cake?” My voice is small. For some reason, this breaks my heart. No one should ever have to make their own birthday cake.

“Yeah?” It comes out as a question. “What’s wrong with that?”

“It’s your birthday. Someone should make your cake for you.”

“It’s not a big deal. I’ve been doing it since I lived on my own.”

“Okay, Betty Crocker.”

He actually laughs. We enter the building, taking the elevator up to his floor.

When we reach his door, he looks at me over his shoulder. “Wait here.”

I do roll my eyes this time. “What? You think I’m going to jump you or something?”

He shakes his head, his tongue sliding out to wet his lips. “It’s not you I’m worried about, Dani.”

Before I can respond, he disappears inside, letting the door close.

I stand there, feeling like a pathetic loser, as I wait for him to return.

It’s barely a minute later when the door opens and he holds out a tiny package and an envelope.

“I…” He starts, then shakes his head. “Take it.”

He thrusts the box and envelope out to me and I’m forced to grab it. I hold it carefully, staring at him. Before he can close the door the whole way I say, “Lachlan?”

“Yeah?” he pauses, his eyes tortured.

“Next year, I’m making your birthday cake.”

I leave him standing there before he can give me a denial I don’t want to hear, and one I refuse to believe is true.

I take the elevator down a floor and have to knock for Sage to let me inside.

“I was getting worried,” he says upon opening it. “What’s that?” His eyes drop to the tiny package in my hand and card.

“Oh … I … um … Taylor sent me a text while I was walking and told me to come by and get my birthday present.”

I mean, it’s not a total lie, right?

“That’s nice.” He closes and locks the door behind me. “Why haven’t I ever met this friend? I mean, I know I haven’t really met all of them, but if she lives in this building you could invite her over some time for dinner. I don’t want you to think you’re not allowed.”

“Um … I’ll keep that in mind.” I bite my bottom lip. Lying like this to my brother is eating me up inside, but it’s not like I can tell him the truth. “I’m going to bed.”