Violet
I’d totally messed things up with Charlie. I’d wanted to have a one-night stand with the man, and instead I’d managed to accuse him of heinous doll crimes and offend him so badly that he had no desire to sleep with me anymore. And now, of course, it was all I could think about.
But today wasn’t about me or my horny lady parts.
I’d gotten up early and blown up more pink and white balloons than I could count. The good news was that I’d be able to reuse these balloons in my balloon arch later at the party.
I wanted today to be magical for Harper.
Maybe in a way I was reliving my own failed birthday parties through her.
My father had never shown up to celebrate my birthday.
Not once.
My mother spent most of my childhood bitter and angry that her husband had left us.
So, I usually got a cupcake, and we’d go to the diner and have dinner after school.
There were no Pinkalicious balloon arches or birthday fairies.
I sent a quick text to Charlie.
Me: Just wanted to remind you that I’m coming through the back door with the balloons, so don’t attack me for trespassing please.
Charlie: I always get up early on Harper’s birthday. Plus, I want to make sure you don’t set me up for a crime I didn’t commit.
Me: I see we’re over the drama from yesterday.
I grabbed the three large garbage bags full of balloons and was dragging them across the yard when I heard his deep chuckle from the doorway.
“Are you going to stand there laughing or help me with these bags?” I grumped.
“I was worried you’d think I was going to murder you, seeing as less than twenty-four hours ago, you thought I was a serial killer.” He moved toward me and tugged two of the bags from my hands, leaving me with just the one.
“You’re hilarious.”
“They say most serial killers are.”
“Shh ... we don’t want to wake her up,” I hissed once we stepped inside.
“She’s a deep sleeper. Tell me what we need to do,” he whispered.
I glanced around, and the way he’d decorated the kitchen took my breath away. A garland of colorful flags hanging above the kitchen island readHappy 7th Birthday, Harps. Several doughnuts were stacked on a cake plate, and a pile of presents on the island had been wrapped in pink gift wrap with white ribbons.
Charlie Huxley is a rock star dad.
Sure, I’d briefly thought he was murdering dolls in his free time, but I never doubted that he was a good dad.
But damn, this was next level.
I pushed away the lump in my throat and looked up at him. “This looks nice.”
“Thank you.”
“Okay, we just need to quietly place these all over the floor in her room, and we’ll put a few on the foot of her bed. So when she wakes up, she’ll know the birthday fairy was here,” I said, keeping my voice low.
“She’s been talking endlessly about this birthday fairy. I take it that came from you?”
