Hate the Player: An Enemies-to-Lovers Romantic Comedy(88)
Pretty sure you’re more than enjoying this, bro…
Birdie
This might be the sweetest, weirdest, craziest birthday surprise anyone has ever given me…
Though, truth be told, I’m loving it. Andrew’s family—especially his uncle Tim—is certainly a little nuts, but hell’s bells, they’re pretty damn awesome, too.
It’s been years since I’ve been surrounded by family like this. And my goodness, these wonderful people were willing to throw me a birthday party before they had even met me. The instant I stepped into the Watsons’ home, they welcomed me like I’m one of their own.
Seeing as my birthday has all sorts of memories laced with my parents and Granny, ever since Billie and I lost them, this day has always had a bit of a dark cloud hovering over. But today, surrounded by the Watsons, it feels like the sky has opened up and the sun is simply smiling down upon us.
There is laughter and teasing and Andrew’s uncle Tim saying the most absurd, hilarious things. There is so much love and affection flowing between this family that it makes my heart want to burst.
I’m just…mesmerized by it all.
And happy. Yeah, I’m really fucking happy inside the Watsons’ family cocoon.
“Andrew!” Mary Lou shouts for him through the kitchen window that looks out onto the deck where all of us are sitting around and enjoying an after-dinner drink. “Come in here for a minute!”
“Be right back, sweetheart. Looks like my biggest fan needs some help.” He grins over at me, reaching out to gently grip my thigh. “If Uncle Tim tries to offer you some of his moonshine, say no.”
I laugh and hold up my glass of Moscato. “Oh, don’t worry. I’m sticking to my sugary-sweet wine.”
He cringes. “Fuck, I don’t know how you drink that shit.”
I stick out my tongue at him, and he chuckles before hopping out of his seat to head inside the house to help his mom.
“All right, Birdie.” Uncle Tim grabs my attention as he leans his hip against the railing of the deck. “I’ve heard that popular song of yours on the radio, the one about your ex-boyfriends, and I have to know, what inspired that?”
I quirk an amused brow. “Are you asking me if I’ve slashed an ex’s tires and slept with his best friend, Tim?”
A hearty laugh escapes his lips as he points an index finger in my direction. “Yes! That’s exactly what I’m asking.”
“Hmmm…” I tap my index finger on my chin and pretend to think it over. “Sometimes it’s so hard for me to remember everything that inspires my music.” I simply shrug my shoulders. “Maybe I did. Maybe I didn’t. I can’t be sure, though. It’s feeling pretty foggy when I try to think back on it.”
“Oh, c’mon!” he continues. “You can tell us, Birdie. We Watsons are known for keeping secrets.” He playfully punches Andrew’s dad on the shoulder. “Right, Ted? This family is like Fort Knox.”
Ted bursts into laughter, and Andrew’s brother Lance follows suit.
“What?” Tim asks, glancing between his brother and nearly fortysomething-year-old nephew. “Why in the hell is that funny?”
“Uncle Tim,” Lance chimes in. “I’m pretty sure the last time anyone told your crazy ass a secret, it was about Andrew getting his first big role in Hollywood.”
“Are you talking about that damn superhero movie he was in? The one where he had to wear the spandex suit?”
“Yeah,” Lance responds on a snort. “And you weren’t supposed to tell anyone about it because the studio hadn’t announced it yet.”
“And I didn’t.”
“Bullshit!” Andrew shouts from the kitchen window. “You posted it on goddamn Facebook! Before the studio had announced anything!”
“No, I didn’t.” Tim shakes his head, and Lance cracks up.
“Uh, yeah, you did. And I’m pretty sure Andrew had to pay for your big mouth.”
“I did!” Andrew responds, but he’s no longer visible through the kitchen window. “The studio made me renegotiate my fucking contract!”
“Yeah, right.” Tim waves an unconvinced hand in the air. “Y’all are making shit up.”
“Basically, Birdie,” Lance says and meets my eyes. “What we’re trying to say here is, don’t tell this old bastard anything.”
I grin at that, but before Tim can chime in with more nonsense, Andrew walks back out onto the deck with a strawberry pie in his hands. Mary Lou quickly shuffles out behind him and begins to light the candles sticking out from the whipped cream with a lighter.
Once Andrew stops in front of me and all the candles are lit, the Watsons proceed to sing “Happy Birthday” to me. Tim is by far the loudest, but Andrew, with his pretty blue eyes and handsome smile, is the sweetest.
“Happy birthday, firecracker. Make a wish,” he whispers.
I stare down at the pie, watching the flames flicker with the soft breeze and search my mind for the perfect wish.
Grass Roots doing well at the box office? My next album being a huge hit?
When nothing seems even remotely good enough, I look up at the people around me—Andrew, his mom and dad, his uncle Tim, his brother Lance and his sister-in-law Kelly. And then, it hits me—family.