Blanche's POV
Today marks my twenty-seventh birthday.
Irene whips up my favorite breakfast this morning, and after we finish eating, Amber surprises me with a designer scarf she'd picked out ahead of time.
Demetrius's unopened gift sits on the table like a silent accusation, while his wilted flowers from yesterday droop pathetically. I rescue the sunflowers, arranging them carefully in a vase beside my bed.
Camila has the day off and bounces into my room the second she wakes up, clutching some handmade creation. She insists on doing my hair, and for once, I don't fight the rare sisterly moment.
I spend the entire day with Camila. By evening, Quinton books us a table at some bustling restaurant. He doesn't say it's for my birthday, but we all know.
The whole family shows up—not a single person missing.
Quinton picks this lively, packed place and slides the menu across to me with unusual ease. "Order whatever catches your eye."
