Gina’s kitchen, polishing off the last of a batch of scones Charlie had made as part of her continuing quest to master the art of cooking.
“I don’t know,” Charlie said doubtfully.
“Give me one good reason why it’s a bad idea for all your friends and loved ones to celebrate the fact that you came into the world,” Gina challenged.
“Well, for starters, it’s the same day my mother died,” Charlie said quietly. “And I’ve always felt…I don’t know…ungrateful for getting excited about my birthday. Plus, I haven’t told Rhys it’s coming up and I know his family will want to make a big deal, too, and I’m really not sure about any of it.”
Gina pulled a face. “Sorry. I forgot about your mum.”
“It’s okay.”
“But that doesn’t mean that we shouldn’t have a party for your birthday, Charlie. I bet your mum would hate to think that you’ve never allowed yourself to have a special day because of her. If I were a mother, that would really piss me off.”
“I think if you were a mother, you’d say ticked off,” Charlie said.
“Stop deflecting. I promise it won’t be over the top or too in your face. We’ll have nice food and some music and everyone can dance attendance on you and worship your big fat belly.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“Come on. You know everyone wants to touch it. I can barely keep my hands off it and I know how private you are.”
“You can touch it if you want,” Charlie said shyly.
“Yeah?”
“If you put your hand right here, you might even feel her moving around. She’s been active this afternoon.”
Charlie guided her friend’s hand to a spot to the left of her belly button. She felt the baby surge inside her—she’d decided after a few weeks it felt like corn popping, not an eyelash brushing her skin or a fish swimming around—and watched Gina’s face.
“Can you feel her?”
“I think so. Like a tiny little earth tremor. Hey there, little lady.”
They exchanged smiles. Gina reversed their grips, catching Charlie’s hand in hers and giving it a squeeze.
“Let me throw you a party, Charlie. Please, pretty please?” Gina put on her best beseeching expression.
Charlie glanced at her belly, thinking of all that lay ahead. Thinking of the birthdays her little girl would enjoy one day. She would want her to celebrate. To be happy, no matter what.
“Okay. But please don’t go to too much trouble. And you have to let me contribute.”
Gina did a little happy dance and kissed Charlie’s cheek. “You will do no such thing. And you also won’t worry about anything. Leave it all in my capable professional caterer’s hands.”
Rhys picked her up half an hour later and she rather sheepishly told him about the party as they drove the two blocks to her apartment.
“You didn’t tell me your birthday was coming up,” he said blankly.
“I usually don’t make a big deal out of it. It’s Mum’s anniversary, too, and it’s always felt weird. But Gina wants to throw me a party. And I think I want to let her.”
Rhys’s gaze was understanding as he looked at her. “Then you should. You know my family will want to come, right?”
“I’d love for them to be there.”
“Try to keep them away. Now I have to come up with a suitable gift for you.”
“Like I said, I don’t usually make a big deal out of my birthday.”
“I promise not to go too over the top.”
She eyed him suspiciously. He had his teasing face on, which could mean anything.
“Promise me you won’t spend a lot of money or do something crazy.”
“Can’t do that. But I will promise that it will be good. Whatever it is.”
She bit her tongue, swallowing the urge to protest. He’d only dig his heels in and become even more cryptic and mysterious. One thing she’d learned about the Walker men was that they loved a good tease. The more prolonged and infuriating the better.
“Good girl,” Rhys said smugly.
“Wait till it’s your birthday.”
“I will.”
As usual, she felt a peculiar little thrill over the fact that she’d made a reference to the future and Rhys hadn’t pulled her up short or pointed out that what she was talking about was weeks, maybe even months, away and that they had no business planning that far ahead. It was stupid—and yet another example of how she couldn’t seem to let go of the deeply ingrained lessons of her past—but she was aware that a part of her tested Rhys every time she referenced the future. As though