Page 78 of Wicked & Wildflower

“What is it?” I ask quietly as we watch her tear it open.

“You’ll see.”

The box is a black cube. A jewelry box, I realize. Lou cocks her head as she studies it, unsure of what to make of it. I feel the same. Finally, she pops it open, but I can’t see what’s inside. All I hear is her shocked gasp, and I watch as her green eyes—wide as saucers—lift to Everett. I’m a little afraid of what her reaction will be, because ten-year-old kids typically aren’t big fans of jewelry. At least, not real jewelry, and that box definitely doesn’t look like it was bought at Claire’s.

“Where did you find it?” she asks.

I look at Everett. “Find it?”

But his eyes aren’t on me, they’re on her, smiling in a way that reminds me of unfiltered sunlight. “I had it made.”

She rounds the table, bypassing all of her friends and the other parents,making her way to me. Nestled on a white cushion is a necklace. It’s a simple chain, with a small gold medallion in the middle. A star sits in the center of it, with prongs sticking out in four directions.

A compass.

Identical to the necklace around my throat right now. The matching one of which Lou lost a year ago, and I’d been unable to replace. Something I mentioned to Everett only once.

“How?” I ask, shocked.

He gently plucks the necklace from the box in Lou’s hands and motions for her to turn around. “I remember you telling me she was upset when she lost hers. So, I had Darby take a picture of yours, and I took it to a jeweler in San Diego.” Lou lifts her hair from the back of her neck as Everett fastens the chain at her nape and links it together. “I asked them to remake it.”

I think I'm in love with him.

That thought comes out of nowhere, sucker-punching me directly in the gut, so hard, it takes my breath away. Or maybe that’s just him, the way he’s smiling at me. “Everett,” I gasp. “That’s so…” I don’t have words. “That’s so thoughtful.”

He lifts his hand, brushing his thumb softly across my cheek before looking back down at my daughter again. “Do you like it?”

She wraps her arms around his waist, hugging him. “So much. Thank you.”

He seems a bit surprised by the physical contact. Lou, like me, has never been much of a hugger. It’s well known she’s not comfortable around men, but that must be changing around Leoand Everett, because she has been incredibly affectionate today. “You’re welcome, Luz.”

“Which one should I open next, Mount Everest?”

Leo snorts. “Good one, Lulu. Let’s keep that one.”

“Absolutely not,” Everett dead-pans. He reaches across the table, grabbing another small box and handing it to my daughter. “Who’s this one from?”

“That’s from us.” Monica claps her hands together happily.

She quickly tears the paper off the medium-sized box and throws it aside, revealing the packaging for a polaroid camera. I bite back a laugh as she turns it in her hands, inspecting it curiously as she tries to figure out what it is.

Lou glances up at Monica. “Can I try it?”

“Absolutely, kiddo.” Carlos smiles, squatting down to show her how it works. “Go ahead and take a photo.”

Wedging herself between me and Everett, Lou says, “Let’s take a picture!” She hands Everett the camera as I lift her into my arms, and he holds it up to his face to take a photo of the two of us when Lou says, “No. A selfie.”

“Of me?” he asks, popping a brow. “No.” She rolls her eyes. “Of all three of us.”

“Oh.” I swear, I see a bit of blush rise to his cheeks, and I can’t bite back the grin that comes to my face. Everett wraps one arm around my waist, pulling me into him with Lou between us. She places one hand on my cheek and the other on Everett’s, smooshing our faces together as Everett holds out the camera and snaps the photo.

I hear a couple of awes from parents standing around as the flash goes off. Setting Lou down, I glance up to see Monica staring after me with what looks like tears in her eyes. My sister is smirking, as if to say:I told you so.

“That’s so cool!” Lou exclaims as the photo prints and she watches the image appear in real time. She barrels into Monica and Carlos’ arms. “Thanks.”

I pluck the photo from her sticky little hands. “I’ll keep this safe while you open the rest of your presents, okay?”

Forty-five minutes later, the backyard is littered in torn up wrapping paper, and the table is covered in cake. Sugar-crashed kids start turning lethargic, and people begin clearing out.

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