Page 133 of The Fall

“He made me buy him a chicken salad wrap at Logan Airport. Airport prices, man.”

Blair deals. “Try not to make it too obvious what cards you have this time, eh?” He tosses me a wink.

Hayes has tells you can see from space, while Blair, in another life, could have been a professional poker player. Hayes couldn’t hide a pair if his life depended on it.

“Raise,” he says, pushing forward more chips than necessary.

Blair’s eyes flick to Hayes, then to me. “Call.”

We reveal our hands. Hayes groans dramatically when Blair shows three queens.

“Every time,” Hayes mutters, flicking his losing cards toward the center of the table. “Every single time.”

I collect the scattered cards, squaring the deck with a few taps against the table.

“Ante up,” I say, placing the deck in front of me.

We go around, raising and calling, and when it’s time to lay them out, I set my cards face up on the table: full-house, jacks over sevens.

“Are you kidding me?” Hayes throws his cards down.

Blair gives me a nod. “Not bad, Kicks.”

I gather the chips toward me, adding them to my growing pile. “Another round?” I ask.

Hayes groans. “With what chips? You two vultures picked me clean.”

“I’ll spot you,” Blair offers, pushing some toward Hayes.

“Oh, charity. Great.” But Hayes takes them anyway, rearranging them into messy stacks. “Pretty sure your liney plays poker better than you, Calle.”

“He plays quieter than you.”

“That’s a hard skill. Not my department.” Hayes sighs, but his expression is bright as Blair shuffles the deck again. “God, I missed this.”

“Boys!” Erin’s voice rings out from the patio doors. “Cake’s ready!”

“Birthday boy gets first slice,” Blair says.

“In your dreams.” Hayes is already on his feet. “I may suck at poker, but I excel at cake.”

The dining table—coated in pink glitter—gathers the glow spilling from the birthday candles on top of Blair’s cake. It’sdouble-layered and chocolate-frosted, with a serious helping of pink sprinkles, and perched on the center is a stegosaurus.

We sing, deeply off-key, with Lily leading us. Hayes tries to out-sing her until they’re shouting the end of the song. After the candles and cake, Lily kicks off the present-giving because she cannot wait one minute longer. She pulls out a stack of drawings from the chair beside her and hands them to Blair.

“Look! I made you stronger arms this time,” she says, pointing to where she’s drawn thick lines in purple coming out of his shoulders. “Because Daddy says you needed to carry the whole team.”

Blair huffs a breath through his nose. “Thank you, Lily-bean. But, I only need to carry your dad. I need to carry himallthe time.”

“Daddy!” Lily cries.

Hayes yuks it up as Erin and I laugh. “Yeah, yeah.” He disappears into the living room, then returns with a suspiciously golf-bag-sized shape covered in a black trash bag with a giant bow stuck to the front. “I know, I’m breathtakingly original, but have you ever had to wrap one of these things?”

I’m no golf player, and I couldn’t tell you whether a club or a bag is good or crap, but judging by the low whistle Blair gives and the way he caresses the head of the driver, I’m thinking Hayes did very well.

Which only makes me a million times more nervous about what I’m about to give him.

I reach into my backpack, abandoned inside after I walked in with Lily earlier. The DVD case I pull out has no label. There’s nothing written on the outside, and I don’t say anything as I pass it to Blair.