Page 12 of Hale Yes (Highway to Hale #1)

I smile. “That’s really sweet, but I moved away from home for college at sixteen. I’m used to doing things for myself.” From the corner of my eye, I see Lehra’s lips turn down at the corners, so I rush to put some cheer into my voice. “I wouldn’t say no to some restaurant recommendations though.”

Cruz gives me a tight smile. “That I can do.”

Artie nudges me with a pointy elbow. “What’s up with your lunch, Nic? You never get just salad.”

I fork up a cluster of greens. “I'm going to dinner at my parents’ tonight, and my dad always makes his red beans and rice with andouille sausage for my birthday. Ma makes my favorite strawberry cake. Just wanted to save room.”

Lehra is still looking at me with something akin to pity in her eyes. Probably because of the comment I made about being on my own at a young age. Hell, I don’t need pity. Things weren’t great around my house back then, so I was more than happy to go.

She hugs me again. “I hope you have the best birthday dinner ever.”

“I hope so too.”

Yeah, that doesn’t happen.

Traffic was a bitch today so I’m three minutes late to dinner. I still take a minute to check my bun in the rearview mirror to make sure there are no little stray curls poking out.

As I enter my parents’ house through the front door, I call out, and Pop yells that they’re in the dining room.

Making my way down the short corridor, I search for the scent of the spices my father uses in his red beans and rice recipe, but my nostrils aren’t picking it up.

His family is originally from south Louisiana, and they moved here when he was little, though his mother taught him all her recipes as he grew up in Jersey.

“Hey!” I greet, earning me a glare from my mother, who’s standing beside the table with a large metal pot in her hand.

“You’re late,” she snaps, and I hide my wince as I sit down across from Angelica and Rory.

“Yeah, sorry. Traffic.”

“Well, we almost started without you,” she grouches, dipping a large spoon into the pot and pulling out not red beans and rice, but chicken and dumplings. Angelica’s favorite. The disappointment hits hard, but maybe Pop had a long day at work today.

I pick at my food as we eat and make small talk throughout dinner, thinking I may have two slices of strawberry cake to make up for not getting the Cajun dish my father usually makes for me. When we’re almost done, I decide it’s time to tell my family about my new job and my upcoming move to Texas.

“I have an announcement.”

Pop smiles at me. “What’s going on, Nicci? Something good, I hope.”

“I think so. I got?—”

“We have an announcement too,” Angelica breaks in, elbowing Rory until he stands.

Okaaaay, go ahead then. It’s not like I was talking or anything.

My ex then drops to one knee and pulls a ring box from his pocket. Ma squeals. Pop gapes. Angelica gasps like she’s surprised, even though this was obviously pre-planned.

Then Rory proposes to my sister with a diamond ring and an excessive amount of flowery language. At one point I believe he said something about her being a perpetual box of treasures that he looks forward to opening for the rest of his life.

I hope to god the treasure box he referred to wasn’t her vagina, or I might puke up the few bites of chicken I consumed only minutes ago.

After Angelica inevitably says yes, Ma jumps up and throws her arms around the couple, openly sobbing about her baby and her new son.

Not exactly the time to mention my news, so I paste a smile on my face as Pa congratulates the couple.

Then I do the whole obligatory congratulations, I’m so happy for you both thing as I try to figure out when I should bring up my news.

Ma is still beaming a few minutes later when she says she has a special dessert for us and dashes into the kitchen. My mouth waters in anticipation of the moist strawberry cake with pink frosting that she’s about to bring out.

But when she returns, there’s no pink cake. It’s white, though there are two lit candles on top. My heart sinks to the floor when I notice that the chunky candles aren’t a three and a four. No, there’s a three and a six.

“I realized earlier that we’re going to miss Angelica’s thirty-sixth birthday next month when she goes to New York, so I thought we’d celebrate tonight,” our mother gushes, and it hits me.

They forgot my birthday. They fucking forgot.

Not that I’m the kind of person who needs a big deal made out of their birthday. I don’t want surprise parties and lavish gifts, though actually being remembered by my own family one day a year would be nice.

The cake has sliced bananas all over it, which everyone knows I don’t like, but Ma plops a slice in front of me anyway. It’s fine. Everything is fine. It’s no big deal.

I repeat that to myself until everyone is done with their dessert, and then I carry the dishes to the kitchen while Angelica opens her gifts from Rory and our parents.

It would have been nice to know Ma planned this early birthday party for my sister so I could have brought a gift as well. Now I just feel left out. As usual.

After loading the dishwasher, I walk back through to the dining room. “Hey, guys. I’m headed back home.”

Pop rises. “I’ll walk you out, honey.” He follows me out the door to my dark-blue Audi. When we reach the end of the sidewalk, he asks, “Are you okay, Nicci? With Rory and Angelica? I know that has to be hard for you.”

I turn to face him in the yellow light from the streetlamp and smile. “I’m perfectly fine, Pop. Totally over all that.”

He nods and waves at a neighbor couple walking by on their nightly stroll. “Okay, baby. I just wanted to make sure.”

“I’m moving,” I blurt out, and my father’s head swivels around to face me again, his brow furrowed.

“To a new apartment?”

My lips purse as I blow out a breath. “No, I got a job at Hale Cosmetics, so I’m moving to Houston.”

His eyes pop wide. “Texas?”

“That’s the one,” I say on a chuckle.

The creases in Pop’s forehead deepen. “But… that’s so far away.”

I bite back the retort that that’s one of the most attractive aspects of the move. “It’s a really good company,” I say instead.

“I hate to think of you so far away.” His lips tip up on one side in a half-smile. “I know you’re an adult, Nicci. And so independent. Hell, you’re almost… you’re…”

I see it the second the realization dawns on his handsome face, his expression flitting from concentration to horror. “Oh my god, it’s… it’s your birthday. Today.”

“I know, Pop,” I tell him quietly.

“But—” The wrinkles above his brows have turned into troubled trenches. “God, Nicci. I’m so sorry. I got distracted with your Ma planning this for Angelica, and—Shit. That’s no excuse.”

No, it’s really not.

“It’s all right,” I lie. “I had a nice lunch with some friends today, so it’s fine.”

He shakes his head. “No, it’s not.” He scrubs his fingers through his thinning hair, making it stick up on top. “I’ll make your favorite dinner next week, honey. I’ll even do the garlic bread with crawfish on top like you love.”

I swallow hard and look down the street, focusing on the circles of light cast by the tall streetlights, my eyes tracing the darkened umbrae surrounding them. “I’m not coming back next week, Pop.”

My father is silent for a long moment, and when he speaks, his voice is quiet and not quite steady. “Because we forgot your birthday?”

I want to tell him yes, for forgetting my birthday and for all the other tiny little things that prove I’m a secondhand citizen in my own family. The things that prove I don’t matter.

But it’s hard to say those truths to my dad. Despite everything, I love him. So I settle on a half-truth. “I’m just going to be busy getting ready for my move.”

Pop searches my face, his eyes sliding side to side between mine. The slight tremble of his chin is barely visible in the dimness, and it almost breaks me, so I reach forward and grip his hand. His skin is rough and warm, and I can’t remember the last time I even touched his hand.

“I’m sorry, Nicci,” he whispers. “For everything. I love you so much.”

“Love you too, Pop.”

But in the back of my mind, I’m thinking… But you never loved me enough to do anything about it.