“I know.” She squeezes my hand. “We’ll all go out for dinner—the five of us, I mean. For your birthday.”

I glance at my dad, and he nods. He pats his shirt pocket. “I have my delivery tips to pay for it.”

It’s a joke.

My dad made a joke.

And I remember when I used to love him.

Nine

Sawyer calls when I’m putting on some stranger’s donated clothes.

“Happy birthday,” he says. “I love you. What do you need most for your birthday?”

“Besides you?”

“Besides me.”

“A phone charger.”

“That can be arranged. What else?”

I think about this stranger’s bra I’m wearing that doesn’t quite fit, and cringe. “Some . . . you know. Embarrassing schtuff.”

“Ahhm . . . ,” he says, and I can tell he has no idea where to begin. He guesses. “Like panty liner shit? And whatever else? ’Cause Kate’s got like a whole drawer full of that stuff and she said I could bring you whatever.” Kate is Sawyer’s college-aged cousin who he moved in with after his dad gave him a black eye.

“Thankfully, no.” I think about how much it would suck to have your house burn down on the night before your birthday and also get your period, and I realize things could actually be worse. “Like underwear.” I blush. Apparently we haven’t gotten to the underwear-discussion stage in our relationship.

“Hey, that’s perfect—according to my sources, underwear is the five-week-dating anniversary gift,” he says. “Can we go shopping today? Or are you too busy with . . . uh . . .”

“With wearing a stranger’s underwear?”

“Yeah.” He laughs.

“I can probably sneak out of here for a couple hours. I’ll need to be home in time to do my birthday dinner, which should be a wild party.” I search through Aunt Mary’s bathroom cupboards for a hair dryer. “Can you pick me up in thirty minutes?”

“Aren’t your parents around?”

“I don’t care. I’m getting out of here for a while, and I’m leaving with you, and it’s too bad if they see me. They have enough other stuff to get ridiculous about.”

He hesitates. “I don’t want to cause them any more stress.”

I pause. “No, it’s cool. I’ll talk to my mom. She’s starting to dig you a little.”

“She is?”

“Don’t tell her I told you.”

I can hear the smile in his voice. “Okay, well, if Trey and Rowan need to get out, they can come along. If you want.”

I think about it for a moment. I want to be alone with Sawyer, but the bratty cousins will be home soon, and Rowan and Trey need underwear as much as I do. “Yeah,” I say reluctantly. “I’ll ask them. Even though I just want to be alone with you.”

“Me too, baby,” he says, and I can hear the longing in his voice. It makes my chest hurt. “But they could probably use a break too.”

“Yeah. Make it forty-five minutes.” We hang up.

• • •

Forty-five minutes later, Mom and Dad are sitting at the table with a woman from the insurance company. Trey and Rowan are ready to go, and my mother seems distractedly relieved to hear we’re going shopping for underwear. Sawyer comes to the door with two paper sacks full of stuff from him and Kate, like fingernail clippers and tampons and hairbrushes and razors and crazy hair product and a huge bag of makeup samples from Sephora, which is a store I’d totally shop at if I gave a shit about makeup and had a million dollars. Rowan squeals when she sees it.

My father looks up from the kitchen table, pulled from his thoughts, and his eyes travel from Sawyer’s shifting stance to Rowan’s delighted expression. Mom watches Dad, but Dad doesn’t say anything. He turns his attention back to the insurance woman, and we’re home free. “Be back by six,” my mom calls after us. “Don’t eat any junk.”

I almost cry at that. I don’t know why, other than it sounds so normal.

• • •

We stop at the ATM to get money, thankful all three of us deposited our latest stash of tip money on Saturday, so we didn’t lose much. We head to the underwear section of the local everything store. Over the course of thirty minutes, Sawyer transforms from suspicious-looking ladies’ department fringe creeper to active participant in camisole and bra fetching. I think it helps that as soon as Trey grabs his boxer briefs and a few other necessities from the men’s department, he begins roaming our section, letting everyone know how he feels about the various “design collections.” We get some clothes, too, but not very many, because, as Trey points out, we’re not really sure if we’re going to need our savings for other things . . . like a place to live. Because we definitely don’t want to live in Aunt Mary’s living room forever.

In electronics we pick up phone chargers for the whole family, which Sawyer insists on paying for. We buy a few snacks to replenish Aunt Mary’s cupboards, and then we go. When Sawyer drops us off at five forty-five, Trey and Rowan take the bags inside. And Sawyer and I finally get a few moments of privacy in the car.

Sawyer reaches for my hand. He kisses each knuckle and looks at me with his sweet, sweet eyes, and then he slides his free hand through my hair and leans in, kissing me, our entwined fingers trapped between his chest and mine, our hearts beating through them, and I feel like the fire is inside me now.