I stared at her.
“Happy birthday to me, too.”
She froze.
Then her face crumpled.
“Oh, sweetheart! Is it today?”
Dad called from the living room.
“What’s that, Kevin?”
“My birthday.”
“Right! Happy birthday, son!”
He raised his champagne glass without looking away from Kai, who was demonstrating his new golf swing in front of the television.
“Thanks, Dad.”
Kai noticed me and walked over.
“Twenty-seven already? Man, you’re getting old.”
“You’re thirty.”
“Yes, but I age beautifully.”
“Your hairline disagrees.”
His mouth fell open.
Mom gasped.
Dad laughed so hard that he nearly spilled his drink.
For one glorious second, I’d won.
Kai pointed at me.
“All right. The little man has jokes now. Somebody get him a microphone.”
That was the closest I came to being the center of attention that evening.
Three hours later, I took my unopened cake home.
Mom called the next morning, apologized, and sent me a gift card.
