Page 142 of Crushing Clover

“Even if they loved it, do you think either of them would remember to tell you? They are who they are.”

We both laughed.

“This is ridiculous,” Saint grumbled as he ambled into the office. He turned all the way around, taking in the full effect of the birthday decorations. “What time do the clown and pony show up? Did you remember to hire a magician?”

“It’s Rush’s birthday,” I said sweetly. “Who’s going to make a fuss over him if we don’t?”

“The only person in this family who gets a fuss made over them is Lucky. You should see his family birthday parties. His mom sends us home with fucking goodie bags.”

Lucky looked annoyed but kept his temper in check. “God forbid one of us has a loving set of parents.”

“Your parents are saints, but you have to admit that giving goodie bags to grown men is pretty fucking weird.”

“I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that. I’ve watched you eat those chocolate bars, and I’ve caught you playing with those fidget toys on more than one occasion.”

To my surprise, Saint laughed. The flash of white teeth and the grin made my knees weak.

“Fine, fine. I won’t make fun of Willa’s goodie bags for at least another week.”

I frowned. “I wish I’d thought of goodie bags.”

Saint rolled his eyes. “Does your mom know we’ve shacked up with her long-lost daughter?”

Lucky threw a roll of streamer at him. “We could do a hell of a lot worse than a woman as kind and thoughtful as my mom.” He called his parents every day for at least a few minutes anddropped by to visit all the time. I couldn’t remember when I’d last spoken to my sister and it hadn’t turned into an argument because I had no money to give her.

Saint sprawled into his desk chair and started rooting through his snack drawer.

“The keg is chilling, and the pizza will be here in about five minutes,” Lucky said irritably. “Don’t start looking for snacks now.”

Saint shut the drawer and gave Lucky a dirty look. “I hope you ordered from somewhere good. The pizza was disgusting last time.”

“You refused to taste it, so how would you even know?”

“How can you have an opinion about whether I added enough truffle to a recipe, yet happily eat pizza that tastes like cardboard?”

“I also swallow your cum on a regular basis. I’m a man of many talents.”

The two of them sniping at each other was one of my favorite things to listen to.

I cleared away the scissors and tape, then checked the room to make sure everything else was perfect.

“Why are you so squirrely about this?” Saint grumped. “It’s not like we have guests dropping by. You literally know what time of day the man shits.”

“Everyone deserves to have a fuss made over them on their birthday. Even adults with extraordinarily regular bathroom habits.”

“Most of the world doesn’t get fussed over on their birthday.”

“I don’t think that’s true,” Lucky said, readjusting one of the couch’s new throw pillows.

Saint scowled. “You were born with a fucking horseshoe up your ass but that doesn’t mean the rest of us need this.”

“But we can do this for him, so why not?” I asked.

“Because you wouldn’t do it for me,” he said hotly, looking as surprised to say it as I was to hear it.

He was jealous? That was preposterous.

“Did I miss your birthday?” I asked carefully.

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