By the time I finish speaking, her eyes are glistening with tears. She doesn’t blink them away like she did earlier. The sight makes my own eyes tingle and my throat grow thick.

  “I only ever wanted you to have the best of everything,” she says quietly. “My own upbringing was…well, you know…” She waves a hand as if batting away unpleasant memories. In the rare instances she’s spoken to me about her childhood, I’ve developed a sense of unhappy, strict parents who never had enough money and expected near-perfection from their only daughter.

  I take her hand and grip it tightly, relieved at the small, affectionate smile that blossoms on her face as she clasps my hand in both of hers.

  “I’d like to say I did all of this for you, but I suppose that’s only partly true,” she says. “I wanted you to have everything I didn't have growing up, and…and maybe I wanted to show off. Just a smidge.”

  “You?” I say, injecting the word with as much playful sarcasm as I can muster past the emotion still clogging my throat. “Never.”

  With a laugh, she frees one of her hands to swat at my arm. She sobers quickly. “I just want you to be happy, Evie.”

  “I know you do, Mom. I don’t need fancy parties or a man in my life to be happy, though.”

  Her eyes dart away from mine as she shifts her weight from one foot to the other. “I know I’m probably not supposed to ask this since it’s old fashioned, but don’t you want to get married? And maybe have children someday?”

  Mom has asked me this a few times over the years. It’s irritated me every time, probably because it pokes at a hidden sore spot. I always thought I’d have that life by this age. Now I’m not so sure it’s even what I want. My thoughts drift to Wesley and the little box of Complicated Feelings stashed away in a secret corner of my heart. The lid popped off the moment I saw him again and heard my old nickname spill from his lips. Having Wesley around has shown me I have some work to do to cram all those feelings back in and pack them up for good.

  “I honestly don’t know about marriage and kids. I know I’d like to find love, but I’m willing to wait for the right person, even if that takes a while.”

  She ponders over this for a long moment and then gives a decisive nod. “I never meant to pressure you. You and your father have always been the greatest blessings in my life, and I want that for you too, but only if it’s what you want. I can see I’ve done a poor job of letting you know how proud I am of you and how much I admire and respect you. You’re so much smarter and braver than I ever was.”

  “I appreciate the sentiment, Mom, but you should give yourself more credit. I learned a lot from you about being brave and smart, and going for the things I want.”

  Despite the non-committal sound she makes, she’s smiling again, and a touch of pink has flushed her cheeks. “Thank you, sweetheart. I’m afraid it’s too late to cancel your party for this year, but next year we’ll do something different. Something you want to do.”

  Even though I have a whole year to think about it, an idea pops into my head immediately. “You know how I said I loved the parties I had as a kid? One of the things I remember is how Suzanne would come over and the two of you would have a little celebration of your own. You’d peek in on us every once in a while, and then you’d hang out in the den with wine and fancy finger foods.”

  “I’d forgotten that.” Mom’s eyes haze over slightly, as if she’s mentally going back in time. “Suzanne always said we deserved to celebrate on our kids’ birthdays since we brought you into the world. As you girls got older, we were tempted to crash your parties and hang out with you, but we knew you’d all freak out.”

  I laugh. “Good call. But how about next year, we have a nice dinner—the girls love getting dressed up, so I don’t want to take that away from them completely—and then follow it up with a slumber party. We can’t make a trip to Blockbuster, but we can surf Netflix and eat junk food and do some spa treatments. You’ll get to experience the fun we always had at sleepovers, and we’ll get to drink wine with you this time.”

  Mom lets out a delighted giggle. “That sounds perfect.”

  “Good, then it’s a date.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  Riding high on feelings of good will toward my mom, I accept her invitation to stay for lunch. It only takes a few minutes of coaxing for her to agree to let me order from my favorite Japanese place. She disappears after watching me order from an app on my phone. I have this ridiculous image of her scurrying to the kitchen and scarfing down whatever she’d planned to have for lunch and then claiming a lack of appetite once the food arrives. At least I hope it’s ridiculous.

  Instead, she returns wearing a more casual pair of slacks and a dark pink sweater set. It’s still fancier than anything I’d personally wear around the house, but it’s progress. I have a moment to notice she looks shorter than usual before she rounds the couch and lifts one leg, wiggling her foot in my direction. In place of her usual ankle-breaking heels are the slipper socks I got her last Christmas.

  “Triumph!” I cry, clapping my hands.

  She gives me an indulgent smile. From the twinkle in her eyes, I know she’s trying not to laugh. I saw that look a lot as a kid, especially when I’d come home from playing with Wesley and would be covered in scratches, with muddy knees, and bits of leaves and grass in my hair. I’ve missed that look.

  “I dug out the hand-painted chopsticks the Rutherfords brought your dad and me from their last trip to Japan,” she says. “We’ve never used them, so I thought this was the perfect opportunity.”

  I don’t tell her the restaurant will send chopsticks. At this point, if she suggested we eat with utensils made from solid gold, I’d go along with it. “Sounds good. Do you want me to set places at the dining room table?”

  I can’t deny this is a bit of a test. Not the kind she can pass or fail, but the kind my curiosity can’t help but issue. I’m hoping she’ll suggest we eat at the breakfast nook in the kitchen rather than in the cavernous dining room.

  Without missing a beat, she says, “Actually, I was thinking we could eat in the media room and watch a movie. Does that suit you, honey?”

  A rush of affection warms me from head to toe. “That suits me just fine, Mom.”

  *****

  When I leave my parents’ place a few hours later, I decide to run a few errands so I can sleep in tomorrow. In the grocery store, I catch several people staring at me, and wonder if my good mood has elevated my vibration to magnetic levels…until I remember I’m wearing a full face of makeup, with a hairdo worthy of a black tie event. I pick up the pace after that, opting to forgo the rest of my errands in favor of going home to shower.

  I text Stella while I’m waiting in the check-out line. Heading home in a few. Need anything while I’m out? Want me to pick up something for dinner?

  She answers almost immediately: Actually, yes. If I place an order at Angelo’s, can you pick it up?

  Of course. Send me the pick up time when you have it.

  Stella texts me the time a few minutes later, and I head straight to the pizza place. When the twenty-something guy behind the counter comes out with two large pizzas, an order of cheesy bread, and a variety of dips, I question if it’s the correct order.

  “Evie Hathaway, right? You placed the order online?” He rattles off Stella’s email address as the contact, so I accept the armload of food, along with his offer to help me to my car. Unfortunately, there are no cute young guys to help me when I get home, so I struggle into my condo building and take the elevator up to my floor. Thankfully, Stella flings the door open as I approach it.

  “Hey.” The word comes out on a gasp. I should have sucked it up and made a second trip to get my groceries, but my stubborn side had me shouldering my cloth bags along with everything from the pizza place. “What’s with all the food?”

  Stella surges forward to lighten my load. When she steps back, she bumps the door wider with her hip to reveal Hollie and Louisa standing in the living room wearing matching grins.

  “Surprise,” Hollie says. “We thought we’d kick off your birthday celebrations early.”

  “We thought you might need it after spending the day doing party prep,” Louisa says. “Stella kept sending us screencaps of your texts.”

  Before I can react, movement across the room catches my eye, and Wesley steps out of the kitchen holding a bottle of wine. “They also thought you might need this. I brought several bottles in the hopes you’d let me crash this impromptu girls’ night.”

  With Stella now holding the food and Hollie and Louisa freeing me of my grocery bags, all I want is to fly into Wesley’s arms. He grins at me like he knows exactly what I’m thinking.

  “Go pour that wine and we’ll think about letting you stay,” Stella tells her brother, elbowing him as she passes him on her way to the kitchen.

  Wesley keeps his gaze on me as he gives Stella a playful shove. Looks like the McGrath siblings are on their way to patching things up after their mysterious spat. “What do you think, Buttercup? Is it okay if I stay?”

  I lift one shoulder in a casual shrug even though my heart is attempting to break free from my ribcage. “I mean, I guess,” I say, loving the way his eyes flash with mirth.

  Stella calls Wes’s name from the kitchen and he replies that he’s coming. He doesn’t move, though. From the way his eyes move over my face and hair, I know he’s taking in the results of Mom’s Glam Squad. I expect a quippy comment; maybe something about him feeling underdressed or how my leggings, plaid shirt, and denim jacket are at odds with everything that’s happening from the neck up. Instead, he smiles softly and pivots on his socked feet to head for the kitchen.

  Sucking in a shaky breath, I dash down the hall to my bedroom. In my ensuite, I scrub my face clean and pull the pins free from my partial updo. My hands move on autopilot to toss my hair into a bun, but I stop, letting the waves fall around my shoulders. Back in my bedroom, my gaze goes to the Discman and red jewel case sitting on my bedside table. I haven’t had a chance to listen to the CD again since Sunday morning, but I finally read the insert. It simply said ‘I hope you enjoy this blast from the past. All my love, always, Wesley’, with a few lopsided hearts drawn around it. It filled me with warmth, and yet I’m not sure why Stella thought the missive was so noteworthy.

  A tapping sound makes me whirl around to face the door. Wesley is there, holding two glasses of wine.

  “I figured we wouldn’t get much time alone tonight, so I used the wine as an excuse to slip away.” He hovers in the doorway as if waiting for permission to enter, so I wave him in. My heart rate accelerates with each step he takes toward me while my brain screams ‘why does he want to be alone with you?’

  Our fingers brush as he hands me the glass of wine. His smile wavers slightly when he sees the CD case in my other hand.

  “This is such a great mix,” I say quickly in case he thought I hadn’t played it yet. “As you can see, I even busted out the old Discman to listen to it.”

  He huffs out a laugh and shifts from one foot to the other, his gaze still trained on the shiny red case. “Impressive. I’m glad you’re enjoying it. Have you…umm…did you have a chance to read the insert?”

  “I did, and it was very sweet. I didn’t look at it the other night because I didn’t want to know the songs ahead of time. Sometimes it feels like there are so few surprises in life, you know? Good ones, anyway. You can look up spoilers online for TV shows and movies, know a band’s set list before you attend a concert…”

  Wesley lifts his head to look at me, his lips curving in a soft smile. “That sounds like you.” With his eyes locked on mine, he takes the case from my fingers and leans past me to set it on the bedside table. The way he brushes against me as he pulls away feels purposeful.

  “I’m thrilled to see you, so don’t take this the wrong way, but I thought you were busy? You said you had some stuff to deal with while you’re in town.”

  “Thrilled to see me, huh?” He wiggles his eyebrows as he backs away, breaking eye contact so he can look around the room. As he moves through the space, picking up framed pictures and checking out the books in my bookcase, it dawns on me that he hasn’t been here before.

  After moving back to Bellevue post-university, I lived in a tiny apartment, then moved to a bigger one a few years later when I was making better money. Around the time I turned thirty, my parents started pressuring me to buy a house, claiming I was wasting money on rent and should own my own home. I wasn’t ready for the commitment of a house, but I didn’t like the slim pickings of apartments for sale in the area. That same year, a property development company began construction on a series of condo buildings with some to rent and some to buy. I bought this apartment and moved in three years ago.

  “This place is great, Ev,” Wesley says, brushing the backs of his fingers over the fluffy decorative pillow on the chair under the window. “It’s very…you.”

  “And you’re being very un-you by avoiding my question.”

  I almost don’t hear Wesley’s sigh over the sudden surge of laughter from the living room. I’m surprised the girls haven’t come looking for us yet.

  Wesley returns to perusing my bookshelves. Even in profile, I can see the soft smile that overtakes his face, and I know exactly what he’s looking at. “I love that these have a place of honor on your shelves.”

  My bookcase has a mix of long shelves and little nooks. One of the nooks holds a signed copy of Cary Elwes’s memoir, As You Wish: Inconceivable Tales from the Making of The Princess Bride. Wesley met Cary during his book tour and got him to sign a copy for me. He also asked Cary to pose with him for a picture while the two of them held a photograph between them of me at age twelve wearing my red Buttercup dress. I cried like a baby when Wesley presented me with the book and framed photo at Christmas that year.

  “They’re among my most prized possessions,” I tell him. “I still can’t believe you took a picture of me with you to the signing and asked Cary to pose with it.”

  His smile wavers as he turns to face me fully. He takes a sip of his wine, followed by another, larger drink. “I am dealing with some stuff while I’m here, but it can wait for a few hours,” he says, picking up our original conversation as if we hadn’t just detoured. “Getting a chance to spend time with you is more important.”

  His words wash over me like warm water. I’m sure he means ‘you’ in the plural sense to include Stella, Hollie, and Louisa, but still. “Is everything okay? You’d tell me if something was wrong, wouldn’t you?”

  “Yeah, of course. I don’t mean to be secretive or evasive. It’s kind of complicated, and I’d like a break from all of it. Can we just enjoy tonight and forget about everything else if I promise to tell you what’s going on once it’s all sorted?”

  Now it’s my turn to sigh. As much as I hate not knowing what’s going on, I need to trust that if Wesley is keeping something from me, there’s a good reason, and he’ll tell me when he’s ready.

  Wanting to see him smile again, I narrow my eyes and ask, “Does Stella know?”

  Bingo. His lips twitch for a second before spreading into that crooked smile. “If I say yes will you rescind your invitation for me to stay?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Then no, Stella doesn’t know.”

  “And here I was just thinking you’re one of the most honest people I know,” I say, shaking my head in mock disappointment. “Fine. Keep your secrets for now. And you can stay, but you’re on wine top-up duty tonight, and I plan to drink at least a whole bottle since I don’t have to work tomorrow.”

  Wesley chuckles as he crosses the room once more. He stops in front of me, resting his hands on my shoulders. For a brief, wonderful moment, I think he’s going to kiss me. I suck in a breath as he leans in and presses his lips to my cheek. The kiss is friendly. Brotherly, even. The kind of kiss he’s given me a million times since we reached adulthood. The “BFFs” playlist he sent me on Thanksgiving night flashes into my mind, and I have to fight to keep the smile on my face.

  “Let’s get some food in you then, eh?” He shifts to stand behind me so he can gently push me toward the door. I guess I should be grateful he doesn’t frog-march me from the room the way he did when we were kids.

  *****

  After dinner, a movie, and a bit of light conversation that includes me telling my friends about my talk with Mom this morning, Hollie and Louisa call it a night and head home.

  Wesley lingers near the front door after the girls leave. “I guess I should get going too.” The hesitation in his words makes me want to invite him to stick around for a while longer. He and Stella seem to have patched things up, but I don’t want to appear too eager or upset the balance again.

  “You should stay,” Stella says. She looks to me for confirmation, and I nod silently, pressing my lips together to hold back a delighted grin. “It’ll be like old times, just the three of us.”

  “Thanks, Little Star.” Wesley grips his sister’s shoulder and yanks her in for a tight, one-armed hug while messing up her hair with his free hand. Yep, just like old times.

  “Is it too late to start another movie?” I ask after Stella has freed herself and shoved Wesley a few steps back for good measure.

  “None of us have to get up early in the morning, right?” Wesley asks.

  “Nope.” With her back to us now, Stella gathers some of the dirty dishes scattered across the coffee table. “You two have the week off, and it’s not like I have a job to get up early for.”

  Wesley’s smile fades. His gaze darts to me, and I give a helpless little shrug. He follows Stella to the kitchen and, this time when he hugs her, there’s no playfulness to it, only brotherly love and concern. Stella remains rigid for a few beats. I’m not sure whether she’s going to turn thorny, push him away, and tell him not to pity her, or accept the silent comfort Wesley is offering.