I look up at the headliner, asking the Lord to send me down some patience so I don’t shake this woman.
“How am I supposed to do something special for you if you don’t frigging tell me it’s your birthday?”
Ripley’s expression wrinkles with confusion.“You don’t need to do anything special.It’s just another day.”
“That’s where you’re wrong.”I pull out my phone and start barking orders when Anthony answers the phone.Sorry about your day off, man.
When I hang up, Ripley puts her hand on my arm.“Hey, whoa.That wasn’t necessary.I’ve had twenty-nine other birthdays that were no big deal.”
I lock my eyes on her stormy gray ones.“Wait.It’s yourthirtiethbirthday?”
She nods.“Yeah, but that still doesn’t make it a big deal.”
“Jesus Christ, woman.Some notice would have been appreciated so I could make it a damn good one.”
“It already was.I spent it with you.”The words come out so matter-of-factly, and then her lips clamp together as though she realizes what she said.
That’s right, Ripley.You feel something for me, and it’s not a little something.It’s big and scary, but it’sreal.
The simplicity of her statement stabs me through the chest.This is what it’s supposed to be like.
She’s mine, and she’s staying mine.She might not realize it yet or know how to put it into words, but what I saw on that video at the rodeo is the truth—Ripley’s falling in love with me.
“I think we can make it a little better.”
I lean toward her, and she presses a hand to my chest.“You need to take it easy, superstar.I want to see your ass on the couch, kicked back and watching TV.I’ll get you a soda and find something to make for dinner.”
“Anthony’s bringing takeout and a cake.”
She rolls her eyes.“Not necessary.”
“Completely necessary.Now, let’s go inside where you can exercise your birthday-girl privileges and pick what you want to watch while we wait.”
She pickedBoondock Saints.If there was any remaining question of whether Ripley was the perfect woman for me, that ended the discussion.I was ready to watch whatever chick flick or rom-com she wanted, but Ripley again proved that she’s not like anyone else.
Mine.
The garage door opens and Anthony calls, “Honey, I’m home, and I brought dinner.”
“Shit house.” Esteban has been an asshole during the entire movie, repeating lines and phrases.Apparently, he’s expanding his vocabulary.
Anthony walks into the living room and glances toward the cage.“Did that damn bird just call me a shit house?”
Ripley tries to stifle her laugh but fails.“I think he means brick shithouse, if it makes you feel any better.I’d say that’s as close to a compliment as he gets.”
Anthony shakes his head as he stares in the bird’s direction.“Guess he gets a pass.”
Anthony is built like a brick shithouse, and I’m trying to recall if I’ve said that in front of the bird or if his creative streak is stronger than I realized.
“How many words and phrases does he know?”I ask Ripley.
She shrugs.“I googled it once and read they can learn over two hundred, but he’s still shy of a hundred.”
“Smart cookie.”
We all look toward the bird as he preens.Then I take in the bags in Anthony’s hands.
“You get it all?”