Page 120 of Fumbled Into Love

“Don’t let it get in the way of what you have planned.” She taps my head. “For the plot, remember?”

“For the plot.”

If nothing else, I can remember this day fondly. I’m doing this because I love him and I want to celebrate with him. It doesn’t matter if he loves me back or knows how I feel, it doesn’t change the intent.

I need to focus on that.

Maren and I return to the kitchen, where Jack and Declan are shoving containers into reusable bags. Declan smiles sheepishly when I reach him.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I care about you. I want you to be happy.” My head falls on his shoulder. “We’re good?” he asks.

“You’re family,” I say, “One small fight in a driveway is essentially initiation.”

“It’s not my business,” Jack starts, and I give him a pointed look. He responds with one of his own. “You saw my whole ass. I think that warrants my opinion on the matter.”

I click my tongue but nod. He’s got me there.

“Proceed.”

“I don’t think Deon has been loved the way he deserves to be loved.” His eyes dart to his wife and his gaze softens. “I had toproveto Maren my love was not fickle or conditional. It’s possible Deon needs the same.”

Maren grazes his arm, the love swimming in her eyes so powerful it feels like a punch to the gut. She nods inagreement with Jack’s statement and I plaster on a placating smile. “I’ll think about that.”

I’ve made up my mind, but they’re trying to help and I love them for that.

“Now, I’d love to stay and chat,” I say sarcastically, “but I’m on a strict timeline, and we have to start by eight, or this plan is shot.”

“Deon,” I whisper, gently pushing his torso to wake him up. He groans, arm flying out and patting the bed. He hits Gordie, who releases a feral cry before launching from the bed.

That did not win Deon any brownie points with Gordie.

“I need you to wake up.” I try to shove him again, but he begins to snore. I go for a more aggressive approach, crawling on top of his body and poking his forehead. “We have things to do.”

“Things?” Deon mumbles, cracking open an eye.

My smile is deranged as I nod frantically.

“I have a surprise for you.”

Deon’s sleepy eyes narrow, but he slides out of bed and blindly follows as I lead him intoThe Lair. I swing the door open and spin around, wanting to watch Deon’s reaction.

While he showered last night, I tiptoed into the room and began decorating. Then I started arranging, and…my masterpiece was born. Plates of food, all themed with tags and descriptions, are laid out on the coffee table.

“What is all of this?” Deon slowly walks into the room, stepping around the streamers I taped to the ceiling.

He rubs his eyes, then looks again. He’s so confused, I can’t help but giggle. It’s so cute.

“Happy birthday!” I yell, clenching my fists at my side to contain my excitement. Weeks of planning and sneaking around are worth the look of awe on Deon’s face as he reads the tags I created lying on the table.

First Breakfast.

Second Breakfast.

Elevensies.

Luncheon.

Supper.

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