Fool For You (Made for Love Book 4) (37 page)

“Okay,” he says, dragging out the word. I can hear the smile in his voice, and I roll my eyes. “I’ll text it to you. What exactly are you thinking?”

“I’ll let you know after I’ve spoken with Harper.”

“You mean, you’ll let me know what you’ve got up your sleeve for
your
girlfriend after you’ve spoken with
my
girlfriend?”

“I’m hanging up now. Text me her number.”

His laughter is the last thing I hear before I disconnect the call.

I’m roused from my sleep by a banging on my front door. I shoot upright, suddenly feeling alert. I’m instantly aware that my alarm clock didn’t go off and that the morning has begun without me. Then the banging sounds again, only there’s a rhythm to it. I smile, realization shattering my frantic thoughts. As I climb out of bed and make my way to the door, I’m sure of two things: the person on the other side will be none other than my sister; and her incessant knocking has the same beat as
Happy Birthday
.

“You’re still in bed?” she cries once I’ve opened the door. “Your birthday started
eight
hours ago!”

“And my gift to myself was an extra hour of sleep,” I reply with a giggle.

“Fair enough.” She grins before barreling toward me, wrapping me in a tight embrace. “Happy
fucking
birthday, Teddy Bear! I’ve been looking forward to Theodora Day
all week!
”

“Hey, what do you know? Me too!”

“Well, we’ve got a full day ahead of us,” she announces, smacking her hand against my ass. “Hop in the shower, I’ll make you some coffee, and then we’ll drop by Little Bird for
more
coffee and muffins.”

“And what, pray tell, are we doing today?” I ask as she follows me into my apartment, shutting the door behind her.

Last year, she took me on a hike and we picnicked for breakfast. Then I spent a couple hours at Generation Ink, where Trevor worked on my back piece. After that, we both got facials before dinner with my favorite artsy men and Carrie, followed by way too much dancing. This year, there wasn’t anything in particular that I wanted to do, so I left all of the planning up to her.

“This morning we’ll do breakfast, and then we’re going shopping. After that, we’ll break for lunch, and then you and I are going to get
pampered!
”

“Really?” I ask, raising my eyebrows at her. “Pampered how?”

“Oh, you know, manicures, pedicures, and a trip to the salon so you can get that hair did for tonight!”

I frown, a tad bit concerned with the length of that list. “Harp, we don’t have to do
all
of that.”

She rolls her eyes at me before shoving me toward the bathroom. “Don’t give me that
I’m-a-recent-grad-and-you’re-a-teacher-so-we’re-both-poor
face. Mom and dad pitched in. And Ben
might
have insisted that he should be in on it, too.”

“Wait, Ben?” I ask, looking at her from over my shoulder.

She offers me a dopey smile before pushing me once more toward the shower. “I told you he was a keeper. Now get that tatted ass in the tub so we can go.” She slams the door as she makes her exit and then yells, “And don’t worry about your hair; they’ll wash it later!”

I pause for a second, letting everything she’s just said settle in my mind. While the day she has planned for me sounds extravagant, I won’t turn it down. It is
Theodora Day
, after all. My parents will call me at some point this morning—they always do—and I look forward to hearing from them, giving me the opportunity to thank them for their contribution. But it shocks me that
Ben
has offered to help me celebrate today. I’ve only met him once, and he and Harper have only been together for a couple of months.

I guess he must really like her
.

I try not to read into his generosity too much, but I can’t help but think of Judah and his
lack
of excitement. He hasn’t said a peep about today since it was mentioned to him last week. He told me that he’d check his calendar and get back to me about his availably, but he never did. After the way Geoffrey practically guilt-tripped him into coming, I didn’t feel comfortable bringing it up from fear that he wouldn’t be able to come. Besides, I’m a spaz when it comes to birthdays. I can’t fault the man if they aren’t his thing. Not to mention, we’ve only been dating for four weeks.

But Ben—

“Why am I not hearing any water in there?” asks Harper, slapping her palm against the door. “Chop, chop, birthday bitch!”

I laugh, in spite of how much I hate it when she calls me that, because her excitement really is contagious. I’m also quick to start my shower, remembering that the sooner I wash up, the sooner I’ll get my morning coffee. “There. Happy?” I cry out.

“You know I love it when you do what I say!” she sings.

“Yeah, yeah.”

Harper and I end up at Mexican restaurant for lunch, where we plan on splitting a plate of tacos and eating all the chips and salsa we want. Since the weather is nice, we opt for an outdoor table, and I can only pray that my sister doesn’t ask the wait staff to sing to me. I might have a great appreciation for birthdays, but you’ve got to draw the line
somewhere
.

I check my phone for the
millionth
time, and I’m disappointed when I find that I have no new notifications. With a sigh, I set it face down on the table, willing myself to ignore it for the next hour.

“So. How are things going with Judah?” asks Harper, her eyes dropping to my phone before returning to my face.

“Subtle,” I mumble.

She laughs, reaching across the table to rest her hand over the top of mine. “You’ve been checking the damn thing every thirty seconds, as if you’re afraid the ringer is broken and you’re expecting a call from Chris Pratt.”

I wrinkle my nose and shake my head. “You mean Chris Hemsworth. He has an accent.”

“Fuck the accent. Chris
Pratt
fights dinosaurs. Plus, he’s just sexy as shit.”

“Yeah. Okay,” I mutter with an eye roll, not really in the mood to argue.

“All right—for real. What’s going on with you and
bad cop
?”

“We’re still seeing one another. We’re good, I guess,” I reply with a half-hearted shrug.

“That was
so
convincing. Come on. Spill.”

“He knows it’s my birthday today. He hasn’t said a word. No call. No text. Nothing. And I haven’t spoken to him since Tuesday.”

“What happened Tuesday?” she asks before popping a chip into her mouth.

“I asked if he wanted to meet up for dinner, but he said he couldn’t.” When I don’t continue, she looks at me expectantly, signaling with her hand that she wants more of an explanation. I shrug, not really sure what else to tell her.

“Teddy Bear, come on, that’s not weird, right? Does he usually take you out during the week?”

“Once. That first week. He hasn’t since then. Though, he did meet up with us last Thursday for drinks at The Tap Room.”

“Okay, so he’s not a
weeknight
kind of guy.”

“But it’s my birthday. And I—” I stop talking, snapping my jaw closed before I tell her that I let him put his mouth between my legs and I haven’t really heard from him since. I’ve been trying not to read into it. He had been so amazing Friday night, and I imagined that everything that happened between us made us closer. I told him things that I don’t usually tell
anyone
, and his response had been so understanding and protective. Now, I’m not really sure what to do with his
silence
.

“And you
what?
” Harper asks, pulling me from my thoughts.

“I…I just—I miss him, I guess,” I confess.

“Aww, babe, that’s so cute.”

I frown before I reach for a chip and throw it at her. “Don’t patronize me. I’m being honest.”

“I’m sorry, but it is. You’re so smitten. I’ve never seen you quite like this before,” she says with a grin.

“Whatever,” I mutter, checking my phone once more.

“Okay, no. See, you can’t do that. You’ll drive yourself crazy,” she insists, snatching my phone out of my hand. I watch as she drops it inside of her purse. Just as I start to protest, she holds up her hand and speaks before I can. “I get that you miss him. I do. This, right here, this is what makes dating so sucky. Maybe he forgot. Maybe he’s just busy. Maybe he doesn’t give a single shit about birthdays. Who the fuck knows? But you’ve got to give him room to
do
Jude while you
do
Teddy. Besides—it’s only one o’clock. He might surprise you.”

“Well, I’ll never know if you’ve got my phone,” I argue.

“Hey!” She points a finger at me, a scowl pulling at her brow. “Today is about
you
, Theodora Rose Fitzpatrick—
not
Judah and whether or not he’s going to remember that today is about
you
. You’re too busy being fabulous to worry about him right now. Got it?”

I inhale a big breath and let out a sigh before I nod my agreement. I do so on principle alone, my heart not convinced that Harper is right. Nevertheless, today has never been about a
guy
and I should at least
try
to let all thoughts of Judah go for the time being. With an afternoon of pampering ahead of me, I have so much to look forward to, and even more to be grateful for. Besides, now that Harper is holding my phone captive, all I can do is sit back and bask in the possibility that perhaps ignorance really is bliss.

I fail miserably at not thinking about Jude. In fact, I think in my attempt to
not
think about him, I think about him
more
. The entire time I’m getting my hair washed, trimmed, dried, and straightened, I think of all the ways in which he has touched me. I think of every place that he has kissed me, licked me, and bit me. By the time we leave the salon, headed for my apartment to get dressed for the night, I physically
ache
for him. And when I beg Harper for my phone and she finally gives in to my request, I almost tear up when I find the only person who’s tried to reach me this afternoon is Geoffrey.

Now, the sexy dress I let Harper talk me into purchasing for tonight seems like such a complete waste. Half the reason I agreed to the dress is because I was holding out hope that Judah would get to see me in it.

“Maybe I should text him,” I blurt out as Harper pulls into the parking lot of my apartment complex.

“No way! I will not allow it. We’re going to go inside, we’re going to get dressed up, and then we’re going to go meet your awesome friends for dinner.”

“Yeah—my awesome friends and your
boyfriend
. How is it that Ben is going to be there but Jude isn’t? Are you
sure
I shouldn’t just text him? There’s no rule that says I can’t remind him, right?”

“There is a rule,” she states as she turns off her car and shifts in her seat to face me. “It’s called the
You-don’t-want-to-look-desperate-on-your-birthday
rule. If he doesn’t at least acknowledge you in the next six hours, he’s an asshole—and then maybe you should reevaluate the whole
bad cop
thing you’ve got going on.”

“Harper!” I mutter, frustrated and hurt by this entire situation, and powerless against my own emotions.