Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 108636 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 543(@200wpm)___ 435(@250wpm)___ 362(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108636 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 543(@200wpm)___ 435(@250wpm)___ 362(@300wpm)
Avery sets two more gifts down in front of me. “These got delivered to the house this morning.”
Both boxes are huge, and I hate myself for reading the cards with each of them, hoping for something new, but I can’t help it.
Happy Birthday, Juniper.
Hope you have a great day!
Love,
Dad
Juniper,
Happy Birthday, darling.
Can’t wait to take you out to celebrate when I get back from Antigua next month!
Love,
Mom
My heart plummets to my shoes as I pretend to enjoy opening the gifts and seeing what’s inside them. Each item costs more than the next, and my head feels like it’s going to spin off my neck by the time I’m done.
Thankfully, Avery’s excitement over my dad gifting me the limited-edition Hermès Birkin bag overshadows the utter devastation I’m feeling on the inside. She means so much to me, has changed my life so much for the better, seeing her happy is almost as good as feeling it myself.
This is the third birthday in a row that neither of my parents has been home to celebrate with me. My dad is on a summer-long vacation in the South of France with some twenty-five-year-old supermodel named Callie whom he just started dating. And my mother is on an Ayahuasca retreat in Peru.
I guess I should be glad they at least remembered today was my birthday, but the fact that my dad’s card is in the pretty handwriting of his assistant Shirlene tells me he’s probably too busy with Callie to even know what today is.
It’s all shit. Just utter and total shit. But it’s the story of my life.
The closest thing I have to a family are the four people in this room. Hell, Diane and Neil are more like parents to me than my mother and father have ever been. And it’s been that way for as long as I can remember.
Avery is still obsessing over the Birkin bag my dad got me, and I’m just about to dive headfirst into a piece of my birthday cake when “You have one more gift to open” is whispered into my ear.
Instantly, goose bumps roll up my arms, and I look over my shoulder to meet Beau’s smiling eyes.
“But you’re going to have to come outside for it,” he adds, and my hands are just about shaking as I take the napkin off my lap and set it down beside my plate of uneaten cake.
Avery is too busy begging Neil and Diane for the latest Birkin bag to notice Beau’s and my departure from the table, and for that, I’m grateful. The level of tail-wagging I’m doing right now needs no more of an audience.
Beau innocently grabs my hand as we walk out the doors that lead to the terrace, and my heart jumps straight into my throat.
“Follow me.”
Beau is holding my hand. Beau Banks is holding my hand!
On the inside, I’m a vibration plate, but on the outside, I’m somehow managing to play it cool. At least, I think I am. With the speed my spirit is exiting my body, I should have an overhead view soon.
He lets go of my hand to grab his paddleboard and oar that rest on the white-picket-fence gate at the entrance to the beach path, and I fend off disappointment with everything I have.
“Happy Birthday, Juni,” he says, and I furrow my brow in confusion. I don’t see anything to go with the sentiment, and the last thing I want to be is a ditz who can’t figure out her gift, but even at the risk of crippling embarrassment, I have to ask.
“Thanks, Beau. Um…I don’t want to be rude, but are you supposed to be holding a gift when you say that?”
He laughs, but it’s not at me. My delicate, crush-ridden psyche is eternally grateful. “Yes, I should be. So, I understand why you’re confused. But the gift is this… I’m going to make your paddleboarding dreams come true,” he says and puts the board in my hands. “Consider today your first lesson, and this is now officially your board.”
“What?” I question, my voice a little hoarse to my own ears. Beau’s board is incredibly important to him, which makes this gift deeply personal. “Are you serious? You’re giving me your board?”
He nods, and the upward bow of his lips can only be described as the most perfect smile I’ve ever seen in my whole life. Straight teeth, plush flesh, and a genuine almost-dimple deep in the tan of his cheek.
For the past few summers, whenever Beau is home from college, I’ve watched him and his buddies surf and paddleboard on the daily out of pure personal torture. The muscles, the laughter, the skill—his version of it is addictive. On the tenth day of avid attention from me, Beau asked if I wanted to learn. Without a reason to be watching otherwise, I told him yes to the paddleboarding but passed on the surfing.