The Birthday List(105)

I nodded. “I did.”

“Good. I wanted you to have some time to read it alone.” She stepped past me, walking the length of the porch and inspecting her rocking chairs before coming back to lean on a post and look out into the yard. “I’m sorry it took me so long to come over. I tried to call you last night, but I got your voicemail.”

“My phone died.”

“I figured. I also figured you wouldn’t turn me away if I just showed up.” She grinned over her shoulder. “I’d actually planned to be here earlier this morning, but I wanted to have the photo album done first and putting it together took longer than I’d thought with everything else going on. Then your dad came by. It’s been a hectic three days.”

I didn’t doubt that. If her house had sold, she’d been packing on top of everything else.

“It’s okay.” I crossed the space between us, standing by the post but facing her instead of the street. My hands were itching to touch her, to pull her into my arms and hold her tight, but I didn’t want to press, so I stuffed them into my jeans. The second she gave me any kind of opening, they’d be ready.

“I’m sorry, Cole. I’m sorry that I asked you to leave the other night. I just needed some time to process everything. Maybe some time to finally forgive myself and realize you were right. I’m not to blame for Jamie’s death and neither are you. Can you understand that?”

I leaned into the post, breathing easy for the first time in days. “I get it, and there’s no need to apologize. I’m just glad you’re here.”

She smiled. “Me too.”

“How are you doing today?” Jamie’s birthday had to be taking its toll.

She pushed away from the post and stepped in front of me, then wrapped her arms around my waist as she shuffled close. “I’m better now.”

My hands abandoned my pockets and tucked her into my chest. The second she was in my arms, three awful days just disappeared. This. This is what I’d been needing for the past three days. Not bourbon or time alone or even words of wisdom from my dad. What I needed would always be Poppy.

I considered myself a strong man, but this tiny woman in my arms had me beat every time. Three days after I’d rocked her world, and here she was, bringing peace and love back into my life.

“I love you, Poppy.”

She gave me more of her weight. “I love you, Cole.”

We stood on the porch, holding each other and letting the silence say the rest. I don’t know how much time passed with Poppy’s cheek pressed against my heart. But I did know that we were going to be fine. That we would have our future.

“Do you know what I like best about New Year’s Day?” she whispered.

“What?”

“Everyone gets a new beginning.”

I smiled and pressed a kiss to her hair. Behind me, a set of brakes squeaked to a slow stop on the street. Finn was parking a U-Haul behind Poppy’s car with Nazboo at his side.

“New beginnings?”

She nodded. “I think we deserve a new beginning, don’t you? Only this time, let’s start from a different porch.”





Five years later . . .



“What the hell is this?” Randall glared at the plate in front of him.

“That would be a birthday cake. You know, for birthday parties. You’re at a birthday party. We just sang ‘Happy Birthday’ to my son.”

“Smart-ass.” He sneered. “Why’s it on a plate?”

“Because eating off the floor is unsanitary.”

At his side, Jimmy laughed as Randall’s face turned a darker shade of red. “But we’re at the restaurant.”

“Yes, I’m aware. I’ve been here all afternoon to decorate the room and make the birthday cake.”

Molly and I had closed The Maysen Jar tonight for a private family function. All of my family and friends were here, enjoying pizza and beer and cake as we celebrated my son’s first birthday.

Everyone I loved was here for the party. Adults were smiling. Kids were laughing. Everyone was having fun.

Everyone, except Randall.

“I come here,” Randall stabbed his finger on the counter, “to sit on this stool and eat food from your jars. It’s been that way for almost six years. I could stay at The Rainbow if I wanted to eat from a plate.”

I blinked at him, dumbfounded. “So you’re mad because I didn’t make Brady’s birthday cake in jars? You know that’s ridiculous, right?”

He grumbled something and stabbed his fork into the cake. “For every one of MacKenna’s birthdays, you made desserts in jars. How was I supposed to know you’d change for Brady? I don’t like surprises.”

Jimmy had been trying to hold back his laughter, but as Randall shoved a huge bite of cake in his mouth, he burst out howling at his best friend. “You old grump. You don’t like anything. Shut up and eat your damn cake.” He winked at me before diving into his own cake and ice cream.

“Are you going to join the party?” I tilted my head toward the tables I’d pushed together for the party. “Or are you going to stay at the counter and be antisocial?”

“Antisocial,” Randall muttered before taking another enormous bite.