I go through the motions.
Smiling. Serving food. Thanking every guest who gushes about how cute the coffee shop is. Pointing people to the restroom. Refilling the lemonade and tea containers like it’s my sole purpose in life.
We play games. Pin the Rattle on the Snake. Snakes and Ladders. The kids are completely enthralled with the little ceramic snake figurines I found for them to paint. Presents.
Everyone seems to be having a good time.
Especially Pearla.
She’s managed to spend the entire party glued to Corbin’s side, talking his ear off. And the worst part? He doesn’t seem to mind.
Not one bit.
I nearly drop a stack of paper plates when I hear it.
Corbin laughs.
A big, hearty laugh. The kind I haven’t heard in years. The kind that makes my stomach twist in ways I refuse to analyze.
Does he like her?
They seem friendly. Too friendly.
I subtly glance at her hand. No ring.
Is this something he’s pursuing? Does she want him to?
I don’t have time for these questions.
Not now. Not while we’re about to cut the cake.
Sarge emerges from the kitchen, carrying the showstopper.
A three-tiered, green cake, decorated with fondant scales and a sparkler flickering on top. The kids cheer as we all gather around Tate.
We sing.
Tate closes his eyes, makes a wish, and blows out the candle in one big breath.
I forgot to take a photo.
But Pearla doesn’t.
I catch the moment just in time. The way she leans toward Corbin, phone in hand, smiling as she whispers something to him.
Then, just loud enough for me to hear, “I’ll text it to you.”
I swallow hard, forcing a smile, but something ugly and sharp coils in my chest.
The kids play a little longer while I start cleaning up the refreshments table. Deanna drifts over, watching me carefully. She’s been holding something back all afternoon, and now that we’re alone, she finally speaks.
“Who is that woman?”
I don’t have to ask who she’s referring to. My gaze flicks toward Pearlaand Corbin.He’s refilling her cup of lemonade, completely at ease, like they’ve been doing this for years.
“She’s Leo’s mom,” I answer as casually as I can. “Tate’s friend.”
Deanna hums, unimpressed. “And you’reokaywith that?”
