“Why fourteen?”
“Oh. No reason, I guess. Thirteen years of school and…this.”
“Oh. I thought maybe because of the year you had to repeat.”
I cringed, and then chuckled. “Nah.”
“Or our night at Harvard.”
I only wanted to remember half of that visit. “It does relate to that. Kinda sort of. Troy made it for me.”
“Troy Holiday…fetus b-ball phenom?”
“The very same.” I took out the big red box. “We should stop in and see him tomorrow or the next day. He’s a dad.”
“No kidding. I’ve been away a long time.”
“Too long.” I wondered if all Holiday Brothers’ cakes were so thoroughly wrapped, or were the layers of plastic and tape just for the dirty ones. “Okay. Keep in mind I might not be as mature as you think,” I said, pulling off the last pieces of sticky cellophane. “In fact, Troy tried to talk me into scaling back some, maybe going with something more romantic and sweet rather than…than this.” I flung open the lid and closed my eyes, waiting for a reaction.