“I’m so sorry to hear that,” I say, truly moved by her story.

She shrugs, making the blue strap of her dress slide down her shoulder. “Oh, don’t be. I learned my lesson. But you must be wondering why I’m telling you this. Call it the mama bear in me, or maybe I’m just protective of my own, but, Blaire, and I mean this with no disrespect—”

“Whenever someone starts a sentence by saying that they mean no disrespect it’s because they’re about to insult you, don’t you think? They’re just apologizing beforehand. It’s what I’d call a gloved slap to the face, maybe?”

She laughs. “I like you. You’re ballsy.”

“I’m just honest.”

“Good, but back to what I was saying before. I like you. There’s something about you that doesn’t bother me like the other girls my brother dates.” She raises her hand, stopping me from replying. “Not that you two are dating, I know, but I can already tell that my brother seems to be more into you than anyone else I’ve ever seen him with. He hasn’t stopped smiling since you got here. I guess what I’m trying to say is that if you’re just passing your time with my brother until the next guy with a Benz shows up, end it now before it starts. I know my baby brother. When he loves, he loves with everything that he has, everything that he is. Just look at him and the way he is with Ollie. My brother treats my son better than some fathers treat their own sons. It’s not my place to say anything more, but that man has given up a lot for Ollie and me, and it’s only fair that I watch out for him. Protect him. Even if it comes at the expense of sounding like a lunatic and scaring you before anything has happened.”

I lower my gaze and notice the shredded remains of the napkin on my lap. Did I do that? “No … you’re just looking out for your brother, which I totally get.”

“Right.”

Lifting my gaze again, I stare her in the eye. “I don’t know what you want me to say …”

“Nothing. There’s nothing to say, just lots to think about.”

The most uncomfortable moment of the evening is when Ollie comes running toward me, grabs my hand, and guides me back to the table where everyone is gathered.

“Can I sit on your lap?”

I know what’s coming as I watch Brian turning the lights out and the glow of candles coming from the kitchen. This is the hardest part for me and one of the major reasons why I avoid birthday parties. The cake combined with the fucking happy birthday song. A song that I can’t sing without feeling a tight knot form in the back of my throat, without tears burning my eyes, without getting choked up during the first verse.

I want to say no to Ollie. I want to get up, turn around, and bolt out the door, never looking back. I want to run away from memories of a lonely girl on her sixth, seventh, eighth birthday—the list goes on—without a fucking cake because her parents forgot what day it was. Or, I want to run away from memories of kids making a point to exclude me, not inviting me to their parties and then talking about them in front of me.

But I do none of those things. I fight those painful memories like I fight everything else.

“Sure, Ollie,” I say, noticing how calm I sound when everything inside me is in utter turmoil.

Ollie sits on my lap as the room goes dark and everyone gathers around us, ready to sing. I’m placing my hands on Ollie’s shoulders when Ronan leans down close to my ear, his hot breath hitting my skin, “Don’t move. I want to take a picture of you,” he whispers, kissing me softly under my ear.

Before I have a chance to reply or react, my senses muddled with the ghost of his lips on my skin, I see the blinding flash of a camera. And then everything happens all at once. People around me start singing that song while Ollie grips my hand in his, his little body tense with excitement, or maybe it’s my own body tense with dread. In a daze, I look up and watch everyone singing to him with smiles on their faces and love reflected in their eyes as the cake is placed in front of us. I glance between the candles dancing in the dark, to Ollie’s earnest and pure smile, to those around us, and try to take everything in. A mundane scene for those used to it, but not for me.

As I sit there surrounded by so much, feeling so much, I’m afraid to move and wake myself up only to realize that I’ve been dreaming all along. I’m afraid that I’ll open my eyes and everybody will be gone and that I’ll still be that child who cries herself to sleep. But as a balmy sensation coats my body—my soul—I realize that this is real. That I’m not dreaming. But this moment isn’t mine. This wonderful experience doesn’t belong to me. It’s borrowed, like everything else in my life.

I reject the thought as quickly as it comes. There’s no room for reality. There’s no room for starkly sad truths. I’ve given myself one day to enjoy without having to worry about what tomorrow will bring—without having to put on an act. So I join in the chorus, not caring that my eyes are blurry from tears, or that I can barely sing without choking. For once, there’s happiness around me and I’m not alone.

After Ollie blows out the candles, Brian turns the lights back on, and my gaze lands immediately on Ronan as if I’ve known his location all along. The sounds slowly drown out in my ears, his family members forgotten as we stare at each other.

I smile.

He smiles.

And right now that’s all that matters.

TENSION FILLS THE AIR, HIS BODY so close to mine I can feel the heat radiating from him, our legs rubbing together as we ride the train back to the city. With my hand safely encased in his, my head reclined on his shoulder and his delicious woodsy smell whirling around us, I’m happy. Content. I feel safe. I’m not even bothered by the fact that it’s close to midnight and we’re both alone in an empty car.

“Thank you so much for inviting me to Ollie’s birthday party, Ronan. I can’t tell you the last time I had such a good time. It was”—I pause to swallow, my throat suddenly constricted—“very special for me.”

“Thank Ollie, it was all his doing. I had nothing to do with it.”

I look up and raise an eyebrow skeptically, which makes him laugh in return. “Yeah, right. Keep telling yourself that if it makes you sleep better, buddy. But in all seriousness … it was a lovely party. The look on Ollie’s face when he opened all his gifts was priceless, and probably my favorite part of the night. He looked so happy.”

I tear my gaze away from him and stare ahead of me, watching the lights of the buildings illuminate the city’s skyline. I don’t know if it is the magic of the day or his intoxicating presence, but suddenly I find myself sharing painful memories that I thought I had forgotten long ago. “When I was about seven or eight years old, I was obsessed with this Hello Kitty watch I had once seen on a girl at the park. She was there with her parents, and she looked so happy. I remember seeing them play hide and seek and listening to their laughter drift in the air. Anyway, I guess in my young and really confused mind, I thought that if I had her watch, I’d have a little bit of what she had. Maybe, I’d be happy too. I begged my mom for it. Cried for it. I was only a child so you can imagine how melodramatic I was. My birthday came, Christmas passed, and she never got it for me. She thought Hello Kitty was childish and a distraction. I was crushed, so seeing Ollie’s face when he got everything that he wanted and wished for meant a lot for me. It made me feel hopeful, you know? Like the world doesn’t completely suck.”