Page 268

My arm goes around her shoulders. Like we've been doing this for years.

For a while, we don't speak. I listen to her breathing. To the faint hum of the city outside. To Darcy shifting around at the foot of the bed.

Then Laney traces a finger over my chest. “Can I ask you something?”

“Always.”

She hesitates. “Did you have a good birthday?”

I look down at her. “Best one I've had in a long time.”

She smiles. “Good.”

I kiss the top of her head. “Thank you for coming back.”

“You already thanked me.”

“Probably gonna do it again.”

She laughs softly.

Then grows quiet.

A minute passes.

Maybe two.

“Bishop?”

“Yeah?”

“Why don't you like your birthday?”

The question catches me off guard. I stare at the ceiling. “I don't dislike it.”

She lifts her head. “You know what I mean.”

I do.

And I also know I could make a joke.

Tell her I'm getting old.

That birthdays don't matter after twenty-one.

That I'd rather celebrate a win than another year on the calendar.

She'd probably let me.

But something about the way she's looking at me makes the usual answers feel cheap.

I run my hand slowly down her back. “Didn't really celebrate them much when I was a kid.”

She stays quiet.

“My mom tried sometimes.” I swallow. “She'd make a cake if she could. Or buy something from the grocery store if she had the money.”

Laney shifts closer. “What kind?”