ARIA
Mom had insisted I wore the dress she’d bought me for my birthday party, and I couldn’t come up with a valid excuse as to why I shouldn’t wear it. I’d tried it on to appease her, having every intention of telling her it didn’t fit or it didn’t look right, but I was wrong.
The straps were braids of the maroon material and dipped down into a sweetheart neckline. It gripped my waist and then flowed out gently into an A-line and stopped at my ankles. It was the split I was worried about, though. It only came up to my knee on the left side, but one wrong move and everyone would get a glimpse of some of my scars.
Mom’s gasp had my head whipping around to face her. She stood in the doorway to my bedroom. “That’s just perfect,” she said, crossing the room to me and handing me a pair of wedges. “These will match.”
“Mom, you know I hate heels.”
“These aren’t heels, Aria.” Her lips lifted into a grin. “They’re wedges.” She placed her hands on my shoulders and looked at me from head to toe. I’d braided my hair, not even realizing it would match the dress.
“Wow. So much difference,” I snarked at Mom but took the wedges out of her hands anyway. Today wasn’t the day for defying her. If anything, today was the day to go along with everything. It was already late afternoon, and I hadn’t cut once, which was a huge win in my book.
My stomach now had seven marks, all in various stages of healing, but not a fresh one today. And I was proud of myself. I’d resisted doing it before we left for the diner, and if I managed to make it to tonight without having to cut again, I’d have achieved something.
I was happy, happier than I’d been in weeks, and it was all because today I turned eighteen. Mom had woken me up, and Sal had cooked pancakes. They’d both been home all day apart from when Sal left an hour ago to get the diner ready. Having them both here with smiles on all of our faces made a difference.
I just wished I could tell them I needed it more.
I needed to be reminded of the people who loved me instead of thinking about the person who hadn’t. There hadn’t been one mention of Dad throughout the day, a stark contrast to every year since he’d died. Mom had taken to telling me how proud my dad would be, but this year, she hadn’t said it. Maybe she had listened to what I’d said when we moved out of the apartment. Maybe my words hadn’t fallen on deaf ears after all.
“You nearly ready to go, birthday girl?” Mom asked, and with a smile on my face, I nodded.
I pushed my feet into the wedges and did the straps up, feeling like the world was a completely different place thanks to the extra height they’d given me. Following Mom down the stairs in them was a feat, but I managed it okay and then exited the house.
It was only a few minutes’ drive until we were pulling up into the diner lot. Balloons and banners decorated the outside of the diner, and a huge eighteen balloon sat in the entryway. The place wasn’t bursting with people, but the ones who I cared about most were here, along with Uncle Brody’s team and the waitresses and cooks from the diner.
“Happy birthday!” they all shouted at the same time. Belle and Asher ran toward me with a gift bag between them.
“What’s this?” I asked, crouching down and nearly falling over from the way the wedges had me balancing.
“Your present,” Belle said. “Open it!”
“It’s a computer,” Asher told me, his grin spreading on his face and causing his cheeks to puff out.
“Asher! You’re not meant to tell her what it is! It’s supposed to be a surprise.” Belle shook her head in dismay.
Asher looked confused with his little brows pulling down into a frown. “Huh?”
“You’re so stup—”
“Belle.” I raised a brow, but I couldn’t wipe the smile off my face. “How about we go and sit and open it together?”
“Fine.” Belle huffed. “But I’m sitting next to you.”
“Nu-uh! I want to sit next to her,” Asher shouted back.
“What if I want to sit next to the birthday girl?” Lola asked, interrupting their bickering.
I stood and righted myself in time to feel her arms wrap around my shoulders. “Happy birthday, sweetheart.”
“Thank you.” I pulled back and smiled at her, but I didn’t manage to get another word out before I was wrapped in another pair of arms and Uncle Brody was wishing me a happy birthday too.
“Give the girl some space!” Sal shouted, ushering them away from me. “She’s barely in the door, and you’re all accosting her.” He grabbed my arm. “Come on, Ri. I have a special birthday shake just for you.”
“Shakes?” Belle asked, her ears perking up. She grabbed hold of my other hand and followed us through the small crowd. “I want a shake.”
“Sal? Can you—”