Page 32 of Drive Me Wild (Drive Me #2)
THIRTY-TWO
JOSIE
I paste a smile on my face despite the urge I have to crawl under the nearest table. While some girls—and Theo—have a birthday month or a birthday week, one day is more than enough for me. As much as I absolutely love celebrating other people’s birthdays, I tend to dislike my own. There’s too much pressure. Coordinating friends for a dinner, opening gifts in front of people, coming up with a half-assed answer to someone asking if all my wishes have come true. No, Linda, my wish to become a stay-at-home dog mum millionaire did not come true . The only thing I ever do is dinner with my parents and that’s more for them than it is for me.
The hostess leads me to the table with a bundle of nylon balloons that say, “Happy Birthday!” and “Birthday Girl” in a bright, bold font. Apparently, nothing says Michelin-star dining more than matching polka-dotted hats.
The balloon-buyer greets me with an ear-to-ear smile. “Happy birthday, darling!”
Of course, the one time a year my mum’s on time is my birthday, and that’s only so she can set up the table to look like a decoration store had a buy-one-get-one sale.
I lean down and kiss her cheek before giving my dad a quick side hug. Pushing away some balloons, I slide into the open chair. “I thought you promised we could keep things under the radar this year.”
“This is your mother’s version of low-key.” My dad chuckles. “Not a single “Birthday Girl” sash in sight. Do you feel any older? Any wiser?”
I laugh and shake my head. He asks me the same question every year, and every year I give him the same answer in response. “I feel the same as I do the other three hundred and sixty-four days of the year.”
A server swings by our table to take our drink orders and waves to the empty seat across from me. “Waiting on one more?”
I pick up my menu to give my hands something to do so they don’t tug at my necklace. The fourth seat, which was originally meant for Theo, is painfully empty. He’s staying true to his word and respecting my space. Yet every time my phone buzzes, a part of me wishes it’s a text from him asking if it’s normal to spend five hundred pounds for extra lives in World of Warcraft . And every time I discover a new artist on Spotify or find a new restaurant I want to try, my fingers itch to dial his number so I can tell him. I didn’t realize how loud the silence of space could be.
“Just the three of us,” my mum informs him. “We’re celebrating our daughter’s birthday.”
As if he can’t tell.
I hum “We Are Family” under my breath as my mum orders a bottle of wine and some appetizers. I wait until our glasses are filled to share my news. Unlike my birthday, this is something I’m eager to celebrate, despite its bittersweet nature.
“Before Mum makes her annual ‘Cheers to staying positive and testing negative’ toast,” I say with a pointed look, “I have a rather exciting announcement to make. I accepted Kelsey’s job offer and gave McAllister my two-weeks’ notice.”
“That’s lovely, dear.” My dad’s brows lift just enough to raise alarm bells in my head. “And this is what you want, yes?”
I narrow my eyes at what he’s insinuating. McAllister will always hold a special place in my heart, but leaving is the right decision for me. It wasn’t until taking a step back from them—and Theo—that I realized I was letting my comfort undermine my desire to challenge myself. Now Johnny Nash’s “I Can See Clearly Now” plays in a constant loop in my head like a theme song. “This has nothing to do with Theo or our breakup. You know I would never let?—"
“He’s being protective, sweetie,” my mum intervenes before I can launch into defensive mode. “We know this decision didn’t come lightly, and we’re very proud of you.”
“Right-o.” My dad taps his wineglass against mine. “Have you gotten the contract from Kelsey yet?”
I sigh. “I know the drill. I’ll send it over to you before signing anything.”
He grins his approval. “Well, then congratulations, Josephine. What a lovely announcement. A great way to start the first day of a new age.”
The rest of dinner is harmless enough, despite the three-tier birthday cake that comes out and features a multitude of sparklers. I’m very ready for my birthday to be over, but when I arrive back at my flat, a sparkly bag with crumpled tissue paper sticking out greets me. A card with “Angel” scrawled in Theo’s doctor-like handwriting is taped to the front. I pick it up off the floor before taking it inside with me.
Theo’s gotten me a wide range of gifts for my birthday over the years—everything from a Cartier bracelet that cost triple my monthly rent to a waffle-maker. Andrew was not a fan of Theo buying me expensive jewelry, no matter how many times I explained not to read into it. Theo doesn’t think about money the way average people do. I take the tube when Uber has a surcharge, whereas Theo once took a helicopter across London because he was too impatient to sit in traffic during rush hour. To him, there’s not much different between a David Yurman ring and a plastic one you’d get out of a gumball machine.
The card isn’t sealed because Theo finds licking envelopes “an infestation of bacterial growth” so it’s easy to open. My eyes scan over the note he’s written.
Bloody hell . I’m a sucker for a sweet card. I place it on the kitchen table before taking out the tissue paper covering the gift. Inside, I discover a brown plush bear with floppy arms and an adorably stitched nose. Running my hands over the fluffy paws, I realize it’s the same texture and material as Mademoiselle. Tears spring to my eyes when it hits me. It’s the bear we saw at the toy store in Le Mans.
My heart is so full of love, I worry it may explode. Slipping my phone out of my pocket, I hit Theo’s name on my list of favorite contacts. It rings twice before he picks up.
“‘Ello, birthday girl. You get my gift?”
“Theo… I don’t know what to say,” I choke out. The bear sits tightly in my arms, and I worry about accidentally decapitating it. “How did— When did— What?”
He laughs softly. “You really thought it took me twenty minutes to pick out a princess doll for Rosalie?”
“Yes! You once spent close to an hour deciding which toothpaste to buy.”
“In my defense, the ingredients were in Arabic, and I wanted to be sure it had gum protection.” Theo’s voice gets unusually shy. “You like her, yeah?”
“Best gift ever. And it’s a him , not a her.” I pause as I consider a name. “Monsieur.”
Theo’s deep laugh brings an uncontrollable smile to my face. “If Mademoiselle and Monsieur weren’t the cutest names for stuffed animals, I’d seriously regret getting you another man to cuddle with.”
Walking over to my bed, I place Monsieur in his new spot next to his fluffy cousin, Mademoiselle. “Thank you, Theo. Seriously. It means the world to me.”
“You mean the world to me,” he says softly. “Happy birthday, Jos.”