Page 111 of From Air

“Will and Maren would love to see you. Gary and Evette too. Hell, they’d love an excuse to have a party.” I glance around the room. There’s a container and a white envelope on the kitchen counter. “What’s that?”

She follows my gaze. “Oh, it’s, uh ... a cupcake and a card.”

“For who?”

Jamie clears her throat and smiles. “For me.”

“From who?” I stand and grab the card next to the empty envelope.

Happy birthday to the world’s best friend.

Love you! Mel

“It’s”—I slowly turn—“your birthday?”

“It, uh ... yes. But it’s just another day. I nearly forgot it until Melissa gave me the cupcake and card.”

Reason number seven hundred and sixty-three why I don’t do relationships: they require remembering important dates.

I’m an asshole. No matter how she tries to spin it or downplay it, I’m an asshole.

Her phone chimes, and she glances at the screen and smiles. I steal it from her.

“Fitz!”

It’s a text from Evette.

Happy birthday, Jamie! Hope you’re recovering well. Love from me and Gary!

I swipe out of that message and discover messages from Will and Maren as well. Both wishing her a speedy recovery and a happy birthday.

“It’s no big deal,” she murmurs when I return her phone.

“You could have mentioned it.”

“That’s uncool. You don’t remind people that it’s your birthday.” She crawls into her bed, leaning on her pillows against the wall.

“What can I do for you?”

“You being here is everything.”

I run my hands through my hair. “I’m such a dick.”

“Yes. But you’re the bigger dick. Or at least you were at the anniversary party.” She grins—my girl’s poor face. I want to break into the jail and beat the life out of her neighbor.

She nods toward the box of tissues on her desk. “Make me a dozen roses.”

“I’ll go buy you a dozen roses.”

“That’s just lazy. I want Calvin Fitzgerald originals.”

With not much time before I have to leave for the airport, I sit at the desk and construct a dozen tissue roses, placing them in a blue glass.

“I love watching you do that. It’s crack. You’re patient and meticulous. What else is in your origami repertoire?”

I return an uneven smile. “This is it. I’m a one-trick pony. My mom taught me.”

Jamie smiles with a little emotion in her eyes. “They’re beautiful. Come here.” She pats the bed beside her.

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