Just a Little Surprise

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

Copyright © 2012 by Tracie Puckett.
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the author: [email protected]

ISBN

Manufactured in the United States

First Edition April 2013

© 2012. All rights reserved.

Cover Photo ©
Dmitri Gromov
 
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Dreamstime.com

C
hapter One

Tuesday, March 05

“Dad’s throwing you a surprise party,” Matt said, clipping the stem of a red rose. He dropped the flower in a crystal vase before plucking another from a pile.

“I hate surprises.” I leaned my arms against the
shop counter, dropped my head, and groaned. “Didn’t you tell him—”

“I did
—”

“And he didn’t listen?”

“Nope,” he said, adding another rose to the arrangement. After a few minutes of silently organizing the flowers in an attractive order, he carried the vase to the glass cooler and turned back. “Cut him some slack, Julie; he just wants to do something special for your birthday.”

Oh, yes. I knew that for sure.
I’d caught on to his plan earlier in the week and asked Matt to reiterate my need for simplicity. I’d hoped that the extra effort might do me
some
good.
Matt, please don’t let him throw me a party. Please talk him out of it. Please!
But no amount of begging had paid off.

Charlie was going through with his plan whether I liked it or not.
And he’d been building up to his monumental surprise for days. He’d (not-so-subtly) hounded me each morning with a million questions pertaining to party planning. This morning it was simply limited to
what’s your favorite color?
You’re not scared of clowns, are you? What time do you think you’ll be home Friday after your dinner with Kara?

While it was
an incredibly sweet sentiment that he wanted to surprise me with a big, exciting, over-the-top birthday bash, the last thing I wanted was a party. I wasn’t exactly thrilled about the idea of being the center of attention. Furthermore, I hate surprises. Always have, always will. And that’s not me being stubborn; that’s just me telling it as it is. There’s nothing—I repeat 
nothing
—good that has ever come from a surprise; not in my experience, anyway.

T
hen I’m left to wonder… who would even come? The invite list would be dismal, at best. I can easily count the number of my closest confidants on one hand: Charlie, Matt, Kara, and Bruno. And honestly, those are the only four people I’d even want to spend my birthday with.

So, w
hen I added it all up, a party just seemed like a bad idea—a
really
bad idea. I didn’t want the hoopla, frills, and thrills. I’d much rather keep things as low-key as possible. But Charlie still hadn’t received that memo (either that, or he’d chosen to ignore every sign I’d thrown his way).

“Fine,” I said, giving in to Matt’s request to cut my uncle some slack. “But nothing too extravagant, okay?”

“You’re kidding yourself if you
actually think I’ll get any kind of say in that,” he said, putting a big, red X across the order form he’d just fulfilled.

“Matt
—”

“I’ll
talk to him, Julie,” he said. “But I’m not making any promises. I’m not a miracle worker, you know.”

I watched my cousin with a keen eye, hoping my wide-eyed stare would earn me some sympathy. Unfortunately, Matt wasn’t so easy to
break. He kept his head low and read over the numerous order forms strewn about the counter.

“Matt
—”

“It’s one party,” he said, sounding as though he didn’t feel the least bit sorry for me. “You’ll get over it.”

“He didn’t throw
you
a party for
your
birthday,” I said, praying to hit a nerve. I desperately needed Matt on my side of this issue. So, if that meant playing dirty, being mean, and pulling out all the stops, I didn’t really care.  I’d say whatever I had to say. I needed to make myself clear. No—surprise—party.

“
I know what you’re doing,” Matt said, arching his brow. “I’m not falling for it—”

“But he ignored your birthday
,” I said. “And now he’s throwing
me
a party? That hardly seems fair—”

“He didn’t throw
me
one because I asked him not to.”

“Great,” I said, realizing that maybe I wouldn’t need Matt’s help
after all. “I’ll just ask him not to throw
me
one, then. Problem solved—”

“Except it’s not,” he said. “He’ll never go for that.”

“
You said it worked for you
!”

“Yeah,” he said, leaning a little closer. “But
the last year hasn’t been nearly as craptastic for me as it has been for you. He just wants to do whatever he can to make you happy, Julie.”

“I know
, but—”

“But nothing,” he said. “He’s not blind to what’s going on. No one is.
Ever since your parents—”

“
Don’t go there—”

“And Luke
was the only person who’s been able to get through to you. Now that he’s out of the picture… we’re desperate—”

“
Matt—”

“
Let us help you,” he said. “I know you may not realize this, but we understand—”

“Well, look at the time,” I said, glancing at my watch.

“Don’t do that,” he said,
not even the slightest bit oblivious to the fact that I was searching for an excuse—
any excuse
—to duck out and avoid the inevitable direction of this conversation.

“You’ll be home later?” I asked, reaching for the door.

“Yeah,” he said, rolling his eyes. “
See ya tonight.”

I nodded and open
ed the door, stepping out into the cool spring evening. The faint orange glow of the sun shined through the branches that lined the street of the district. Birds flew from tree to tree, softly singing and chirping. Fresh flowers bloomed on every curb, serving as a great reminder that the snow days were far behind us. It was truly the most beautiful day—weather-wise, of course—that Oakland had seen in months. Just the sheer thought of short-shorts, flip-flops, and beach balls had me yearning for the next few months to fly by.

But t
he wind picked up moments later, reminding me that it was still too early to get excited about the upcoming summer days.  I took a moment to pull the zipper tighter on my jacket before looking up, but my attention to the sidewalk came a few seconds too late. By the time I turned the corner, my body had slammed directly into another, throwing me back on the sidewalk with a forceful thud.

I didn’t
even bother looking up to identify the person I’d collided with. Instead, I assessed the burning wounds on my scraped palms and rubbed the blood off on my jeans.

“Oh my God
.”

I closed my eyes at
the sound of his voice. It only took a millisecond to identify exactly whom it belonged to. Through great reluctance (and even more humiliation), I finally managed to look up and meet Luke’s brown-eyed gaze. Towering over me in jeans and an Oakland PD sweatshirt, he extended his arm to help me up.

“
Jules, are you—”

“I’m fine,” I said, knocking his hand away. I managed to stand up—without an ounce of grace, go figure—and
immediately noticed the woman standing at his side.

Rebecca
.

Not wanting to give either of them
the satisfaction of witnessing any more of my embarrassment, I pushed between them and kept walking for home. Tears stung my eyes almost as painfully as the sidewalk dirt stung the open wounds on my palms.

That was just like Luke to swoop in and
hurt me when I least expected it.

And it was just like me to walk away… never giving him the chance to make
it right.

God
, there were plenty of things I wanted to say to him, thousands of questions I wanted to ask, and a million possible responses he could give. But I’d already spent the last week avoiding him by all means possible… I couldn’t turn around now and demand answers.

I’d shut him out for too long.
My chance for closure had long since passed.

“Julie,” Luke said, reaching back and taking my wrist. He turned me gently back to him
, and our chests brushed on contact. I gnawed on the inside of my lip as I stared at him, watching his eyes soften with the slightest bit of moisture. “I’ve been trying to reach you for a week—”

“Yeah, I
got that from your dozen voicemails,” I said, not letting his tone faze me. Whether he knew it or not, Luke had an incredible knack for manipulating my emotions. And as hard as it would be, I had to stay strong; I couldn’t let him get to me the way he expertly could. If I let Luke hurt me again, it would be no one’s fault but my own.

Stay strong, Julie.
Stay strong.

I pulled my arm from his grasp and turned to walk away yet again.

“Julie—”

“Goodbye
, Luke,” I said, not turning back.

I couldn’t know for sure, but I
assumed he watched me until I disappeared around the next building. Something heavy—something acutely similar to that feeling of being watched—pulled at my heart as I rounded the corner and put him out of sight.

And
it didn’t make a bit of sense.

Was he watching me walk away just now?
If so, why? What could he possibly have to say to me? And how in the world could he expect me to just fall back into his arms (after I’d blatantly gone out of my way to give him the silent treatment)? How could he stand there—practically brushing shoulders with Rebecca—acting like nothing had ever happened?

How could he? Who did he think he was? 

For crying out loud! It’d only been five days since I found out that Luke might’ve been lying about a whole lot more than what I’d ever suspected.

She’s not his daughter
.

Yep.
That’s the report I’d gotten back from Matt the day after my cousin and I had spotted Luke, Rebecca, and her kid in the park together. Naturally, I had to assume that there was a lot more to that threesome than what I knew. After all, Luke and Rebecca had gotten so close so fast. And maybe that’s because they’d known each other once before… maybe because they’d shared something much greater than what I’d ever imagined.

While I did my best to avoid learning the truth (per Bruno’s gentle request to mind my own business),
Matt made it his mission to find out everything he possibly could. He did a little digging, a little poking around, and finally—after his investigation failed to bring any new news to light—he just flat-out asked Luke what was going on. And Luke didn’t let on about much. All he’d told my cousin was that he and Rebecca weren’t romantically involved, nor had they ever been. According to Matt, Luke was vague, but adamant about how he’d met his new friend. Apparently he met her the same way Grace and Lonnie had; she came in looking for a job, and he was there. He swore that he’d never met her until then, that
her
daughter was not
his
daughter, and that our suspicions were beyond absurd.