Page 90 of One Killer Night

Me:Working should be illegal on your birthday. See you when you’re home.

Rexy:Amen. It’s my firm belief that Monday birthdays should automatically transfer to the nearest Saturday.

Me:Agreed. But we’re still gonna celebrate you a little tonight at Evie’s thing ... and then again on Saturday.

Rexy:Sheesh. It’s like you love me or something.

Me:Or something was an option? Nobody told me. Great now you’ve already shared my toothbrush so it’s too late.

Rexy:Dead to me, Damon.

Me:Duh, I’m a vampire.

Rexy:

Me:Happy birthday, baby.

Goldie

“You know technically if we’re going for a repeat of last year, I should only be wearing the outfit I have on underneath this,” I say from next to Noah as we stroll down the sidewalk of our neighborhood.

He nods. “If memory serves, you were actually deflated when I showed up at the party. Should I pop you? Maybe rub your ass against the brick?”

I chuckle. “Nah, let’s just rewrite history. It kinda felt like being a little kid trapped in a bounce house someone had unplugged. The fabric is surprisingly heavy.”

He smiles as we fall back into a comfortable silence, and I look around. Tonight is so picturesque, something a travel bureau would use to advertise “Visit Boston.”

The air is as crisp as a Diet Coke, and the leaves on the ground look almost painted on because of the bright autumnal palette. And even though it’s warmer this October than most, it’s got thatIt rained earlierfeel. And maybe because it’s my birthday or because it’s almost Halloween, there’s magic in the air.

Noah points to a stoop next to us littered with pumpkins and little white ghosts.

“You wanna meet some of my cousins?”

I giggle before looking at a house across the street. It’s the one from last year that made me climb Noah out of sheer fear. I hold his hand tighter, not because I’m afraid but because I’m having one of thoseI can’t believe this is my lifemoments.

We’re literally right back where we started and so far from the people we were.

It’s so bizarre the way life unfolds. A year ago, I was newly unemployed, desperately single, and floundering as I looked for a sign to point me in the right direction.

And I guess I got it in a bright-red neon one hanging above the entrance for a local pharmacy. Because now I’m a cute little inflatable T. rex who’s deeply in love with her flower-print boo, living in my dream neighborhood, and finally getting paid to do what I love. Albeit only one article.

How is this my real life? I don’t remember manifesting it.

But maybe I did when I boldly invited a stranger to meet me at a party. Then asked him to be my boyfriend months later. Let him become the first person to ever read my work. And trusted his belief in me more than my own fear of failure.

I decided without a conversation that I would move across the world for him and that he would want that too.

Somewhere in this year, I started getting comfortable with the uncomfy parts of life and allowing myself to bloom. I owe that as much to my own bravery as I do to Noah’s strength. Because I don’t think one could’ve existed without the other.

In the fine words of Jerry Maguire in the 1996 classic, Noah completes me.

I tilt my head, looking up at him through the mesh cutout of the costume.One day I’m going to marry you.

As if he’s heard my thoughts, his eyehole cutouts shift to my face.

“Huh? Did you say something?”

I breathe out a small laugh. There’s definitely a little magic in the air.