Page 94 of Lessons in Heartbreak

Maybe I could concede an inch too.

“Happy birthday tomorrow, in case I forget to say it,” I told him quietly.

His jaw flexed, eyes locking briefly on mine before he nodded.

“You too,” he said, voice tight and rough with emotion.

Barrett went outside to tell the kids they could stay overnight, and beyond the sound of their excited screams, it was Ruby’s triumphant grin aimed in my direction that caused a seismic fluttering inside my chest.

Fucked.

I was so fucked.

Chapter Twenty-TwoRuby

“Oh my,” I breathed, taking in the utter chaos in front of me. “What happened?”

Griffin was lying in the middle of the family room floor, legs out, arms on his chest as he stared up at the vaulted ceiling. “Maggie.”

I slowly set down my bag on the floor and took in the carnage in the kitchen—mixing bowls; an undoubtedly cold stack of pancakes; two half-empty containers of eggs; a half-eaten, lopsided cake with blue frosting dripping sadly down the side.

Happ Birthwas all that was left on the cake, written messily in a red gel frosting. Colored sprinkles coated the parts of the cake that hadn’t been touched, and I swiped my finger through a glob of frosting on the cake plate and sucked it into my mouth while I turned in a slow circle.

“Is it your birthday today?” I asked.

From his spot on the floor, Griffin made a quiet grunt of assent. “I’m not moving. I’m staying here all day. That’s what I want for my birthday present.”

“Well, now I feel bad,” I said. “I didn’t know to get you a present.”

“You can help me clean up the kitchen. It’ll be the greatest gift anyone’s ever given me.”

I laughed, turning toward the dining room. My eyebrows shot up when I saw the table. Beads everywhere. Stacks of construction paper. Stickers. Glitter.

“They were here for like, twenty-four hours,” I said incredulously.

Griffin sat up with a groan, rubbing a hand over a bleary-looking face. “I know. She found the crafting closet, and it was all over. They didn’t want to go to bed because they only had one night, so I let them stay up until midnight thinking they’d sleep in a bit.” He shook his head. “Nope. She was standing over me at six a.m. Scared the absolute shit out of me when she whispered my name, asking if she was allowed to make breakfast.”

I smothered my grin, because he really did look exhausted. “Everything go okay when Barrett picked them up?”

Griffin yawned, giving his stomach a lazy scratch as he ambled into the kitchen to survey the damage. “He stayed outside, which is probably for the best. If he’d seen this, it would’ve just reinforced that whole Griffin-is-an-irresponsible-child mantra that makes up the cornerstone of his tidy, perfect little universe.”

With a tight throat, I started picking up the mixing bowls and moving them to the sink, then turning on the hot water and adding soap so that they could soak for a little bit.

“Everyone’s always looked at me a certain way,” I said quietly, tossing the cold pancakes into the garbage. The eggshells went in right after. “I’m the responsible one. The quiet, smart one. I never got into trouble, but I also wasn’t very noticeable either.”

Griffin joined me in the kitchen, soaking a washcloth with hot, soapy water. He started wiping at the dried frosting on the gleaming counters, swiping up little piles of crumbs while he listened quietly.

“In high school, I was constantly picked on by the popular kids.” In one of the drawers, I found aluminum foil and covered the cake, sliding the plate into an empty spot in the fridge. “Because I was too nerdy and too quiet and didn’t party and no one asked me out.”

Griffin’s eyes were heavy on me as I closed the egg cartons and moved those to the fridge as well.

“I was one of those kids, wasn’t I?” he asked quietly. “Before you moved.”

My eyes fell shut, but instead of answering—because even if there was a good-natured angle to it, we both knew he was—I kept cleaning, busying my hands as I washed the bowls and stacked them next to the sink to dry.

“It didn’t take me long to realize something,” I continued. With the counters clean, Griffin went over to the dining table and started stacking the construction paper, his eyes still on me as we moved around each other in the big space.

“People’s perception of others is always colored by their own issues. Their own insecurities. The things we see in other people—especially when it’s a trait that we’re secretly a little jealous of—twist around in our brain before we’re even aware it’s happened. It becomes an ugly thing to tease them about. Make them feel like they’re doing something wrong, because we’re sick with envy that we don’t have just a little bit of that.”

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