them into a kindling stick that I march over to the stove. I turn the burner back on high and hold the paper against the coils until the end catches fire. My mom leaps from her chair and rushes to me, but I hold the papers up high, keeping her at bay long enough for the flame to take hold and eat away half of whatever the fuck this shit stack is that my dad left. I drop the smoking pages into the sink and run the water over what’s left, scooping the soupy mess out and tossing it in the trash like a rodent I just killed.
I wash my hands and glance over my shoulder, meeting my mom’s wide eyes.
“Oh, like he doesn’t have a million copies. And like his lawyer didn’t send one to ours. That . . . that felt good.” I shut the faucet off and dry my hands on a towel, tossing it to the counter with a bit of zest when I’m done.
The shocked awe on my mother’s face shifts into pride after a few breaths, a curve taking to her lips.
“You told me to be selfish,” I say, knowing she’ll appreciate the credit. Though she doesn’t realize just how greedy I’ve been.
June’s house is already full by the time we pull up. I park us in the street and my mom hefts the pot from the back seat of my car. She gets halfway up the driveway before Tory runs out and takes it from her. Our gazes meet for one intimate glance.
“Thank you, babe. Not too much cake for you today, okay?” she teases him, knowing which of the two she’s dealing with this time. My mom doesn’t miss clues, which means she’ll probably sense that something is up when Hayden shows up, if he even does. If he doesn’t, well, everyone is going to wonder what’s going on.
His car is the only vehicle missing. Lola and Naomi both parked in the garage. They spent the night with June baking and preparing for my day. I was supposed to stop in to help after my date, but well . . .
“There’s my girl!” June’s mom, Kristen, rushes over to me, her hands shielded by oven mitts. She gives me a half hug, not wanting to get flour and frosting on my sweater dress. Her arms are covered in ingredients.
“You look adorable,” she says, looking me up and down. I sashay in acknowledgement just as Tory comes back into my space. Our eyes meet again, and I catch the knowing grin on his lips. He’s very aware of the reason I’m wearing this dress.
I follow everyone through the kitchen into the main room that the Mabees have set up to be wide open for whatever silly games June has planned. There’s a long table pushed all the way against the wall opposite of the fireplace, and it is filled with every type of frosted cookie and cake I can imagine.
“The maple cupcakes are surprisingly good. The oatmeal cookies . . . eh.” June wiggles her palm in the air.
“Noted,” I say, moving right in for one of the cupcakes. I reach for the perfect-looking desert on one of the tiered plates, another hand reaching for it a blink afterward, resulting in a near tug-of-war.
“What, you think because it’s your birthday you can come in here and swoop the best cupcake?” Tory’s finger grazes mine where we touch, a hidden token to let me know he’s thinking of me—of last night.
Neither of us gives in right away, precariously holding the cake hostage over the Mabees’ wooden floor.
“I tell you what, I’ll split it with you,” he offers.
I shake my head and smirk.
“Uh uh.”
He puckers his lips into a tight smile, enjoying our playful spar. This is always where we were at our best—sharp tongues, poised for flirting.
“You want it all, huh?” His finger strokes along mine again.
“Always,” I reply. His eyes dare me for a few seconds until others arrive to scour the table for treats near us. He lets go one finger at a time, and I casually bring the treat to my lips, unwrapping the paper from the bottom before I take a bite.
“Worth it?” he asks, one brow raised.
“Totally,” I say, licking my lips.
Rather than look frustrated, he chuckles, hesitantly reaching an outstretched finger toward my face. I follow the tip of his finger, crossing my eyes as it lands on my nose and he wipes off a small dollop of