I stopped. “If this is some kind of joke.”
“It’s not,” he said.
My chest tightened. Hope and anger tangled together. He opened the door. The lights snapped on.
“HAPPY” Jason started, then froze when he saw my expression.
Mark’s face looked guilty so fast it made my stomach twist. Sarah’s expression sharpened into pure alarm. Eliza covered her mouth. Caleb went pale.
“I waited four hours.”
The banner read. “HAPPY 60TH MOM.” Balloons. Streamers. A cake that looked expensive. And five of my children standing there like they’d been waiting for the punchline.
I stood very still. Then my voice came out small and sharp. “So you were all here.”
Mark stepped forward fast. “Mom, wait.”
“I waited four hours,” I said. “Four.”
Jason blurted, “We weren’t ignoring you.”
“Where is Grant?”
Eliza’s eyes filled. “We thought…”
Sarah snapped, “Why is there a cop with you? ” What happened?”
I looked from face to face.
“I sat alone at that table,” I said. “Like an idiot.”
Mark’s face crumpled. “Mom, we were trying to keep it a surprise. Grant said he was handling the pickup part.”
I felt my heartbeat speeding up again.
I turned back to the officer, voice rising again.
“Where is Grant?” I asked.
“He’s not here yet.”
Jason frowned. “He said he’d be here by seven. He was supposed to get you.”
Sarah whipped her head toward Mark. “He’s late.”
Mark checked his phone, jaw tight. “He’s not answering.”
I turned back to the officer, voice rising again. “You gave me a note from my son. You drove me here. Where is he?”
Another police cruiser rolled into the lot.
The officer’s mouth opened, then closed.
My hands curled into fists. “Where is my son?”
Headlights swept across the windows. Another police cruiser rolled into the lot. The room went quiet so fast it felt like pressure in my ears.
The cruiser stopped. A door opened. Footsteps. Then Grant walked in. In a police uniform. Badge on his chest.
Jason said, loud, “No way.”
“What are you wearing?”
Sarah whispered, “Grant.”
Eliza made a soft, broken sound.
Caleb just stared.
Grant lifted both hands as if he was walking into a storm. “Okay. Before anyone murders me. Happy birthday, Mom.”
My mouth finally worked.
“What are you wearing?” I demanded.
“Are you out of your mind?”
He swallowed. “A uniform.”
Mark choked out, “You’re a cop.”
Leave a Comment