The battered countertops were gone. Fabulous, gleaming granite ones were in their place (except the butcher block island, that was just the same). The old fridge, stove and dishwasher were also gone. Where they once stood, there was a brand new, glossy, black fronted fridge, a matching dishwasher and a beautiful, stainless steel restaurant quality stove. Above the stove, the old microwave had been pulled out and a fancy new one matching the stove was there.
It looked fantastic.
I just knew Tate’s kitchen could be fabulous!
There was a beautiful, old-fashioned, pink glass cake stand sitting on the island, the edges of its top polka-dots of glass. On the stand was delicious looking cake with generous swirls of creamy, chocolate frosting and it was topped with an abundance of pink candles. A huge bouquet of balloons in every color of the rainbow festooned the middle of the island, their multi-colored strings held down under one of my heavy stoneware bowls.
“Happy birthday, Laurie!” I heard Jonas shout and my body jolted as I watched him run from the mudroom followed in a stream by Wendy, Tyler, Shambles, Sunny, Ned, Betty, Pop, Holly, Twyla, Amber, Krystal, Bubba, Dominic, Nadine, Steg, Wings, Stoney, Stella, Wood and, bringing up the rear, Tate.
Jonas’s body hit me, his arms going around me for a tight hug as I went back on a foot on impact.
His hug was fast and he let go, jumping back a step and announcing, “Dad and Uncle Wood spent all day putting in the counters. He ordered them forever ago! The guys who brought the fridge and stuff from the store just left, like, a second before you and Jim-Billy drove up. It was good you were late because Dad was freaking out! Totally pi… I mean mad as all get out because he didn’t think they’d be done before you got home. Uncle Wood had to hide Dad’s guns!”
I looked from Jonas’s smiling face to his father who was standing at the end of the counter, his hip to it, his arms crossed on his chest, his eyes on me.
Then I looked into the kitchen at the new countertops, the new appliances, the cake, the balloons and, most of all, my friends.
Then I burst out crying.
These were not delicate, quiet, ladylike tears. No. They were loud, out of control, eyes and nose streaming sobs.
I was in Tate’s arms in an instant and I heard through my bawling a muttered, “Jesus, Ace.”
I yanked back, succeeding in only moving my head and shoulders because his arms were tight, I focused on Tate through the wetness in my eyes and I yelled, “You’re supposed to be after a fugitive from justice!”
“I lied, babe,” Tate replied. “There was no skip.”
“You lied to me?” I screeched hysterically because I was hysterically happy and I had absolutely no clue how to deal with that.
“Couldn’t tell you I couldn’t take you to work because I had to go pick up countertops, Ace, that would spoil the surprise,” Tate answered.
My head jerked and I asked, “How did you know it was my birthday? You weren’t supposed to know it was my birthday.”
“It’s on your job application, Laurie,” Krys called and I heard her but I watched Tate’s face dip close at the same time it got serious.
“Yeah, and we’re gonna talk about that,” he murmured and I had the distinct feeling he wasn’t too hot on me keeping my birthday from him.
“I thought –” I started.
“I know what you thought,” he cut me off, “and we’re gonna talk about that.”
I swallowed back tears, wiped my face and sniffed loudly.
Then I changed the subject. “Did you make the cake?”
Tate grinned. “Fuck no. Shambles made it.”
“Moist Factor Five Hundred, babeeeee!” Shambles shouted from somewhere behind Tate.
I giggled softly.
Then I whispered to Tate, “You bought me a new stove.”
“Yeah,” he whispered back.
“And a new fridge.”
“Yeah.”
I moved to fit myself to his front and wrap my arms around him, tipping my head back further to hold his eyes.
“And a new dishwasher,” I continued.
“Yeah, babe.”
“That’s a lot of appliances, Tate.”
“Yeah,” he agreed.
“And a lot of cake,” I observed because I knew from just glancing at them that the appliances and countertops were top of the line and they had to cost a whack.
“No shit,” he replied.
I smiled at him and kept whispering. “I think you like me.”
“I like how you cook, probably like it better, now you got better tools to do the job.”
My smile got bigger. “You like more than how I cook.”
His arms gave me a squeeze and he whispered, “Yeah.”
I moved my arms from around his back, wound them around his neck and got up on my toes to touch my mouth to his. Then my lips went to his ear.
“Do you love me?”
His lips at my ear, he answered, “Oh yeah.”
I smiled and stuffed my face in my neck.
“Sick!” Jonas shouted. “Jeez, can we have cake or what?”
“I’ll go fire up the grill,” I heard Pop say as I shifted back and Tate’s arms around me became only one as he tucked me into his side and turned us to face our audience. “Stell, sweetheart, bring out the chops,” Pop finished.
“You got it, Kyle,” Stella replied, heading to the fridge.
“Chops first, Bub, then cake,” Tate told Jonas.