I was standing at the stove in my kitchen. A big pot of water was coming to a boil. The table behind me was set for five. Four plates for them, one for me. Cloth napkins. The good glasses. And above every chair, a bright helium balloon bobbing on a curly ribbon. Pink, blue, yellow, green, silver.
I’d bought the balloons myself. At the party store that afternoon. I’d stood in line behind a mother buying a Happy 5th Birthday banner, and when the cashier asked who the balloons were for, I’d said, “Me,” and she’d given me a funny look.
My phone buzzed on the counter.
It was Brad.
I picked it up, and for one stupid second, my heart jumped. Here it is. He’s pulling into the driveway. They’re all in the car with a cake. They’ve been planning something this whole time.
I read the message.
Hey hon, gonna stop at that Renaissance fair the boys have been talking about for two weeks. Probably gonna be home late. Will bring you something. Just make dinner for yourself.
I read it again.
