Page 44 of All’s Well that Friends Well (Lucky in Love #2)

I dig my phone out and check the message. I don’t recognize the number, so my brows furrow, but my expression clears when I read more.

Miss Marigold, this is Susan from the HR office, the message reads. I’ve been asked to inform you that today is Mr. Slater’s thirty-second birthday, in case you would like to wish him a happy upcoming year.

My eyes widen, and despite the bite of carrot I’m halfway through chewing, my jaw drops. I whip my head around to stare at Luca.

“Is today your birthday? ” I hiss at him.

“Hmm?” he says absently; he’s nodding at the people around us as they pass. They seem to have come in together.

I nudge Luca with my elbow. “Your birthday,” I say. “Is it today?”

“Oh,” he says, finally looking back at me. He thinks for a second. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“You guess —you—” I swallow as a sad, muted horror rises in my throat. “You guess? Were you going to tell me? Were you going to let me go all day without saying happy birthday?”

“It’s not a big deal,” Luca says with a shrug.

It’s not a big deal? His birthday is not a big deal?

My lower lip trembles. “We’re friends,” I say. “Friends celebrate birthdays.” My gaze breaks away from him, darting around the room as I think. “I didn’t get you a present,” I mutter. “I didn’t even get you a card! ” Then I look back at him. “Does anyone even know? ”

Luca neatly and methodically gathers the trash from his lunch, placing it back in his paper bag. “Of course not,” he says. “It’s not relevant.”

“Not relevant,” I repeat faintly. I want to scream at him and also hug him, and then I want to throw him the biggest, best birthday party anyone has ever had.

My family celebrated birthdays in a big way while I was growing up, and my sisters and I have carried on the tradition. We drag Cyrus into it too, when we can manage. We go all out—streamers and party hats and pinatas, with a cake and yummy food .

I slap my hand on the table top and stand up, glaring over at Luca.

“No,” I say. “Absolutely not.”

“Absolutely not…what?” he says. He reaches for my scattered lunch trash now, wadding it up and shoving it into his paper bag.

“Absolutely I will not let you treat your birthday like any other day. I will throw you an office party. I will?—”

“If you throw me a party, I’m going to fire you,” Luca says, straightening up next to me. His voice is calm but firm, his gaze sharp. It’s the demeanor he uses when he’s trying to be scary.

So I gasp dramatically and clasp my hands under my chin. We’re the only ones left in the room, so I feel safe when I speak. “But if you fire me, what excuse are you going to use about why we shouldn’t date each other?” I say, fluttering my eyelashes at him.

His shoulders slump the tiniest amount as pink creeps into the shells of his ears, and he tears his gaze away from mine.

“Ridiculous,” he mutters, shaking his head.

I grin and scamper after him as he heads to the trash can. “You know what we could do?” I say, poking him in the back. “We could just date anyway?—”

But I break off as his hand reaches around to swat me away; I dart to the side with a surprised laugh as something light and bubbly rises in my chest.

That’s how my Luca feelings always show up—light and bubbly, giddy and joyful.

I’ve had crushes on countless guys. My family would say I’ve always been boy crazy. But as I stare at Luca’s back, a breathless smile still on my face, I know for certain that I’ve never felt like this before.

I’ve never liked anyone the way I like him.

I pull my phone back out of my bag and shoot off a text to my sisters.

Me

Apparently Luca’s birthday is today??? So I have to do some baking tonight, which means a grocery run. Text me a list of what you need and I’ll go on my way home from work!!

India doesn’t answer, but Aurora’s response is almost immediate. I get several seconds of bouncing ellipses, and then her message comes through.

Aurora

A bottle of all-purpose cleaner for me.

I grimace at this request. If Aurora is in the mood to deep clean, it means she’s having a really bad day. Something to do with her casual not-boyfriend, maybe?

I’m going to need to investigate that one when I get home.

I tuck my phone in my pink bag once more, and my smile returns as Luca and I skirt out of the room, his blue-green scent swirling around me as I follow in his wake. I’m so focused on him that I almost run into Quincey Brewer as we round the corner into the hallway.

“Oh,” I say, startling as I come to a sudden halt. Quincey’s eyes drop when he sees me—not in a lecherous way, like he’s checking me out, but more in an embarrassed way. His hair looks especially limp today. I nod stiffly to him and then step to the side, except?—

“Miss Marigold,” he says. The words are mumbled, and when I look over at him, he’s still staring at the ground.

My brows jump at his tone—not smug or haughty at all.

“Yes?” I say.

“I’m—” He breaks off and dabs his forehead with his sleeve. Then he gives me a jerky little bow. “Sorry. I’m sorry. For what I said.” He remains bent into his awkward bow. “It won’t happen again.”

I blink at him, my mind reeling with surprise and sudden understanding.

This whole time he’s been acting so weird since the picnic—has he been trying to apologize?

“Thank you,” I say, because I don’t know what else to do. What he did wasn’t right. An apology is fine, but I can’t forget that he actively tried to humiliate me. Still…

I nod over my shoulder into the break room. “There are chocolate chips cookies on the counter in there, if you want to take one.”

Quincey shakes his head, his eyes still on the floor. “I don’t really like chocolate,” he mumbles. Then, halfway tripping over his own feet, he darts past me and into the room.

I shake my head, looking up at Luca, who’s been waiting silently in the hall with a tense look on his face.

He doesn’t like chocolate? I mouth, incredulous.

That man has more problems than I thought.