I spend the next hour brainstorming, googling, and engaging in a carefully worded conversation with my mom about how to make one’s husband agree to one’s vacation plans.
“You’ll need to do more than just surprise him with a cake or give him a little extra wink-wink in the bedroom,” she explains.
“Mom! Donottalk about ‘wink-wink’ with me!” I plead. “But I don’t know what will work. Begging won’t cut it. He’s more married to his job than to me, and it’ll be a week off.”
“Listen,” she says soothingly. “And this is just what I’ve learned through my own observations, so I can’t guarantee anything. But most men tend to be prideful, especially around their colleagues. They’ll do just about anything to save face in the moment.”
“So I need to put him on the spot,” I say, nodding to myself. “Back him into a corner.”
“A loving corner,” my mom adds.
Finally, with the help of my mom, I pull together a solid idea that seems like it can’t fail—and then call Emzee immediately to invite her in on it.
She laughs. “I had no idea you had such a conniving streak. I knew I liked you.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” I say. “Now let the games begin.”
* * *
The next morning,I wait for Luka to leave, then have a leisurely morning walking the dog, picking up breakfast at the corner bagel shop, and then showering with all my fanciest bath products. Once my hair is blow-dried and softly tousled, I apply just a touch of makeup and then slip into a flouncy blue dress and wedge heels. I want to look nice enough to win him over, but without overdoing it. This is a performance, after all.
I go to the party supply store first, then pick up the cake I ordered from the bakery. An hour later, I meet Emzee in the parking lot of Danica Rose Management’s offices in The Loop. As I try to wrestle a million balloons out of the backseat of my car, Emzee starts giggling.
“Talk about festive!” she says. “It looks like you’re going to float away with all of those. How many birthday balloons did you buy?”
“Literally one of every kind they had in the store,” I admit. “Including superheroes, sports themed, and the cute baby animal ones meant for kids.”
“My brother is going to besoembarrassed,” Emzee squeals. “I can’t wait!”
She’s got two large travel carriers of dark roast from Luka’s favorite coffee house down the street, and a tote bag filled with some wrapped gifts for emphasis.
We stride into the lobby with our cargo, take the elevator up, and then head down the hallway. I shush Luka’s assistant Damien as he opens his mouth to protest us striding toward the conference room door like a two-person birthday parade extravaganza. DRM’s weekly mandatory staff meeting is going on, and under ordinary circumstances there’s no way in hell I’d ever purposely disturb Luka during one of these.
I’m sure I’ll be in trouble with him later, but the Bahamas are involved, so I don’t care.
A grinning Damien appears at our side, and I show him the cake box. “Early birthday surprise,” I whisper.
“I never would have guessed,” he whispers back. “I support your shenanigans.”
He pushes open the door for us, holding it so we can go through with our hands full. I make a mental note to bring him a huge slice of cake afterward with my thanks.
We’re entering at the rear of the room, everyone’s backs facing us, so Emzee and I are able to quietly tiptoe inside with the cake, the coffees, the presents, and the ridiculously huge balloon bouquet. Emzee can’t hold back a giggle, and suddenly everyone turns in their chairs and looks at us in shock. Luka’s eyes widen and then his gaze falls to me, but all I see is surprise.
“Happy birthday, darling!” I say, slipping the cake box onto the conference table in front of him. I flip open the lid, displaying the fancy lettering and frosting swirls, and smile at him sweetly. “Hope everyone likes chocolate truffle cream,” I announce loudly.
Meanwhile, Emzee sets down the bag of presents and one of the coffee carriers and then starts giving people fresh refills on their lukewarm conference coffees with the other one. It’s obvious that the Danica Rose staff is more than happy for the interruption and the treats. Everyone is smiling. Everyone but him.
I lean down and give Luka a kiss on the cheek. “Are you surprised?”
He looks at the cake and rubs the nonexistent stubble on his chin, his trademark move when he’s trying to stop himself from blurting out words he’ll probably regret later. I smile even wider, half expecting him to have a bit of a tirade over this intrusion. But instead he sets both hands on the table and shakes his head as if he can’t believe it.
“Shocked is probably more accurate,” he says. Looking around the room and then zeroing in on Emzee, he pulls his lips into a tight line. “Was this my baby sister’s evil plan? I’m sure she told you how much I hate surprises.”
“Nope, it was all Brooklyn’s idea,” Emzee crows. “I just egged her on!”
I always love being thrown under the bus. Still, I don’t let it take my smile down. “It was a combined effort, actually,” I say. “Here, I’ll just cut you a quick slice and then we’ll get on out of here so you and the staff can get back to it.”
“Let’s all sing ‘Happy Birthday’!” Emzee looks around the room for support. She raises her hands as if she’s going to conduct, but Luka’s hard voice stops her.