Page 64 of Flirting With Forever
December rolled in with cooler temperatures but bright sunny days, and the island transformed with beach-themed Christmas decor.
The tree lot on the island had opened up at Thanksgiving, the little red camper that housed the caretakers in place. The older couple was a staple on the island every year, except for last year when an accident had kept them from coming.
Gage bought a small tree for the shop and brought it in along with some ornaments he’d picked up at a box store to decorate it.
Sloane had given him an odd look when he’d entered carrying the tree, but he’d shot her a grin and blasted Christmas carols as they’d decorated it. He wanted to get one for the townhouse for them, but his gut told him she might feel pressured even more, so he let it be. They were rarely home except to sleep anyway.
Gage found himself watching Sloane, the curve of her full lips as she arranged one of the cheap plastic crab ornaments while wearing a black-and-leopard-print Santa hat cocked just so. His heart pinched when he thought of how it would feel next year if she wasn’t there, and the air left his lungs as anger and hurt surged.
Alec had informed Gage of Noah’s visit to the rentals building. He’d really hoped the guy had left town, but that obviously wasn’t the case. But why was he sticking around?
Gage had gone back and watched the video footage of her meeting with her brother, but since the video lacked audio, he could only guess what Noah had said to her before sauntering out the door.
The weekend came and brought with it another birthday-celebration gathering for the month. It was his turn to host, so he’d asked Sloane to join him in picking up some decorations and party favors the Friday evening before.
“I can’t believe your family does this every month,” Sloane said, grabbing some confetti twists off the rack.
He smiled at her words and tossed in some candles. “There are too many of us to have individual birthdays, so we made it a once-a-month thing.”
“And whose birthday is it again?”
“Alec’s, Sophia’s and…mine.”
“Wait, what? Yours? When?”
Gage felt a little uncomfortable. “Wednesday.”
“Hmm,” she said, moving down the aisle of supplies. “How old are you?” She flashed him an over-the-hill sign in all black.
“Not that old,” he grumbled, earning a laugh from her that twisted his mouth into a smile. “Brat.”
She grabbed a can of spray string and waggled it at him.
“Sure, why not?”
She tossed it in along with a few others. This was going to be a messy party. But he liked seeing her grin and loved the fact she was having so much fun picking out silly party stuff. “What were your birthday parties like growing up?”
A pensive expression flickered over her features, and her smile fell before she bucked it up again.
“Expensive. Boring. I was born on New Year’s Eve. When I was home, my father insisted on being seen at some party, or he’d take us to the ballet or the opera. When I was in boarding school, it was usually a cake in the cafeteria.”
So her father wouldn’t bring her home over the winter holiday sometimes? That had to hurt. “Did you like the ballet and opera?”
She wrinkled her nose. “The ballet wasn’t bad. All the pretty costumes and ballerinas running around. But the opera? One time I went to the bathroom just so I could stuff toilet paper in my ears to try to block out the noise.”
He chuckled at the image, well able to imagine a freckle-faced, curly-headed little girl in a fancy dress with toilet paper poking out of her ears.
Sloane picked something else off the shelf, staring hard at it.
“I remember going to a real birthday party once, though. My parents were away, and my nanny was sick, so the maid— My father would have fired her instantly if he’d known but— She took me to her granddaughter’s birthday party, basically so she wouldn’t have to miss it due to taking care of me. They had a bounce house and balloons and music, and everyone was talking and laughing and playing games. It was the best party ever.”
How sad was it that the best party she’d ever been to had belonged to a maid’s granddaughter? “Your father never found out?”
She put the bag of sticky eyeballs back on the hook.
“No. At least not that I know of.” She turned toward him. “I’ve never told anyone that story, so if he does find out—I’ll know it came from you.”
Gage held up a hand. “Your secret is safe with me, Merida. You should know by now that you can tell me anything.”
