Sometimes I feel like Carson's goals are an exercise in megalomania or at least narcissism, but right now, I find myself hoping he gets just exactly what he wants, that somewhere down the line, he really does have a whole group of people aching to celebrate his birthday with him. Even if they're not really his friends, though I hope they are. Everyone deserves that, I stand by that.

He steps back then, silently inviting me inside, and I let some of the anxiety in my belly uncoil as I step in after him, keeping my head ducked as he speaks and wincing when he admits he is angry with me. I can't blame him, of course, though I do have to shake my head as I set the pie down on his kitchen table.

"It wasn't a lie," I insist, turning my wrist in an attempt to get the blood flowing back into my fingers after holding that pan for so long. "I did want to go when you asked. I mean, after it became an actual invitation and not a demand. It's just... I wasn't expecting the city to play another trick on us that week and I didn't feel comfortable leaving Jack alone. And he's. I mean, this thing between me and him is still so new. I'm scared of messing it up, if I'm honest. I really, really like him, Carson."