Page 105 of The Broken Heart Playlist
I have roughly an hour before the girls start arriving. Everything is under control. The chocolate cake came out rich and moist. The decorations are up, thanks to Gideon dropping by yesterday and volunteering to hang up streamers and balloons. He even bought Lisset a personalized pink neon sign bearing her name, which she has declared her favorite decoration of all time.
The bounce castle should be arriving any minute and the professional fairy entertainer is scheduled to appear halfway through the party.
I head to Lisset’s bedroom to check on her. She’s in her pink party dress and brushing her hair at her dressing table.
“Want me to braid your hair?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “I want to wear it loose. Can you help me with my clips?”
“Sure.”
I use the mini claw clips to pin the front pieces of her hair back from her face. A knot forms in my throat as I stare at her beautiful face in the dressing room mirror.
“You look so grown up,” I say to her. “Like a young lady.”
She beams, pleased. “Thanks, Mom.”
I smooth my hands over my forest green sundress. Now that we’ve tipped over into summer, I’m wearing dresses more often. I like the way I feel in them. I like the way Gideon’s face lights up when he sees me wearing one. The way his gaze keeps straying to my legs.
His parting comment—I’ve got a thing for you—has slipped under my skin and I hear the echo of it every day. He’s everything I thought I never wanted in a man and now he’s an all-consuming craving I can’t shrug off.
I’ve got a thing for him too.
We’re building up to something, the archetypal snowball rolling down the mountain, gathering size and momentum.
My phone rings. I answer, and when it sinks in what the man on the other end of the line is saying, my heart drops.
“What do you mean you’re canceling the bounce castle?”
“I’m sorry, but the high winds make it too dangerous to set up.”
“What wind?” I ask, even as I peer out Lisset’s window and glimpse some of the younger trees on the street bending and swaying. “Can’t you just peg it more securely?”
“I’m afraid not.”
Panic squeezes my chest. “You can’t cancel on me!”
“We’ll give you a full refund,” the man assures me.
I pinch the bridge of my nose between my thumb and index finger and squeeze my eyes shut. “I don’t care about the refund.” Not true, but I’m making a point. “What I do care about is the fact that I have eight girls coming over in an hour for a birthday party. What am I going to do?”
“This is not our fault,” he informs me stiffly.
It’s no one’s fault. Why didn’t I check the weather? Why didn’t these people check the weather? Why didn’t the weather just behave for one day?
I hang up the phone and open my eyes to find Lisset’s anxious face peering up at me.
I find a smile for her. “It’s okay, honey. We’ll hang out inside the house. And remember, we still have the special fairy coming.”
“Okay, Mom.”
The trust in her voice causes a spasm of anxiety in my stomach. I drag in a breath. It’s okay. I’ve got this. The fairy entertainer is only booked for an hour, but maybe I can ask her to extend her time. It’ll stretch an already tight budget, but at this point I don’t care how much extra I have to pay. As long as I can erase that disappointed look on my daughter’s face.
The girls start arriving from noon onwards. They head to the living room where I’ve set up drinks and snacks. I overhear them admiring each other’s dresses. Hopefully, the opening of the presents will occupy them for a while.
At one-thirty, the doorbell rings. Relief rushes through me. The fairy entertainer is here. I open the front door and stare at the person standing on my front porch. Lisset wanted a fairy, but the person in front of me is dressed head to toe in black. A black tank top, black tulle skirt, and straight, jet black hair. Even her lipstick is black. She’s also leaning into the raccoon look with the heavy application of dark gray eyeshadow.
“Can I help you?” I ask.
