Chapter 55 Joy on Borrowed Time
The penthouse is warmer and brighter with celebration.
A few clusters of silver and black balloons float near the ceiling, and the long "Happy 33rd Birthday, Lawrence" banner stretches across the far wall.
Lawrence has been burying himself at the London office, staying late every single night. I know it's his way of coping with his mother's decline—work has always been his safest escape.
I haven't complained once. Besides, his long hours gave us the perfect cover to sneak everything in and set it all up without him suspecting a thing.
I've spent the last twenty minutes fussing with the cake on the island, nudging it a little to the left, then to the right, until the overhead lighting hits the elegant writing Happy Birthday, my love, at exactly the right angle.
I want the cake to be the first thing he sees the moment we all shout "Surprise."
Laura arranges the pastries on a beautiful platter beside it while Tom pours himself a glass of the whiskey he brought back from Greece.
He's tall and lean, with a sort of confidence I assume would've gotten him and Lawrence into plenty of trouble as kids.
His personality is the complete opposite of Lawrence's.
Tom is loud, playful, and quick with a joke that makes the whole room laugh.
Right now, he's wearing a ridiculous silver birthday hat tilted at a jaunty angle, just like the rest of us.
"Relax, Scarlett," Laura says with a soft laugh. "The cake's already in the perfect position. He's going to lose his mind in the best way. He hasn't had a proper birthday in years."
Tom leans against the counter, grinning.
"She's right. Last time I tried surprising him, he was twenty-four and perfecting his plans for Law and Moore in some dingy apartment. Nearly had a heart attack when I showed up with pizza and strippers."
Laura rolls her eyes. "Please don't tell that story when he walks in."
I'm about to laugh when the familiar ding of the private elevator echoes through the foyer.
My stomach flips.
"Everyone in your positions!" I whisper-shrill frantically, waving my hands at them. "Quick, quick…"
Laura ducks behind the island with me. Tom slides smoothly behind one of the walls, still holding his whiskey.
The three of us hold our breath as the elevator doors slide open.
Lawrence steps out, his tie already loosened, and his jacket slung over one shoulder. He looks exhausted but still devastatingly handsome in the soft evening light.
I can already picture the frown of confusion when I'm not there to welcome him.
We hear his footsteps stop halfway into the living room.
He has noticed the dimmed lights and the fact that something is wrong.
For one moment, the penthouse is perfectly silent.
Then the three of us explode out from our hiding spots at the same time.
"SURPRISE!"
Lawrence flinches, a rare reaction that makes my heart squeeze.
His green eyes widen behind his glasses as they land first on Laura, then on me… and finally on Tom.
The shock on his face melts into something I've rarely seen these days: pure delight.
"Tom?" His voice cracks with surprise. "What the hell are you doing here?"
Tom steps forward, pulling Lawrence into a back-slapping hug. "Oh, come on, Lawrence. You know I wouldn't miss your birthday for the world."
Lawrence laughs, the sound low and warm and so genuine it almost brings tears to my eyes.
He hugs Tom back fiercely, then pulls Laura in next, kissing the top of her head.
When he turns to me, his eyes are softer than I've ever seen them.
Cupping my face with both hands, he kisses me passionately, right there in front of his sister and his oldest friend.
"You did this?" he asks softly against my lips.
"I had help," I whisper, smiling so wide my cheeks hurt. "Happy birthday, my love."
His eyebrows scrunch emotionally, and he kisses me again.
The next few hours feel unreal, like I'm dreaming.
We cut the cake, eat, pop the champagne and even play some music.
Tom launches into story after story from their childhood.
I listen attentively because I want to know all there is about Lawrence's childhood.
He blushes when Tom describes the time fourteen-year-old Lawrence tried to build a "real" computer out of scrap parts and nearly burned down the garage.
Laura contributes with the time Lawrence pretended to be sick for three days just so he could finish coding his first app instead of going to school.
I watch him the whole time, mesmerised and intrigued, and proud.
He's lighter tonight. I love that.
"You're the best thing that's ever happened to me." He whispers in my ear on the couch.
The butterflies in my belly flutter as I reply cockily, "I know."
He chuckles.
Laura and Tom leave around ten, both of them hugging us tightly at the elevator.
"Best birthday in years," Tom says, clapping Lawrence on the shoulder one last time. "Don't fuck it up, Moore."
He winks at me.
"Thanks, Tom."
Laura waves goodbye. "Call me tomorrow."
"I will."
The elevators close, leaving just us.
I start clearing the plates and abandoned paper cups, taking them to the kitchen.
The success of this evening has me humming quietly under my breath.
I throw the disposables in the bin and am reaching for the empty champagne bottle when I feel Lawrence come up behind me without a sound.
His strong arms slide around my waist, while his lips kiss the side of my neck.
"Leave whatever you're doing," he murmurs roughly.
"I was trying to be a good hostess…"
He turns me in his arms, tilts my chin up and kisses me properly this time. Hungrily.
His tongue pushes past my lips and claims my mouth, making my knees grow weak.
Lawrence's hands slide under my dress, his palms caressing my thighs.
I melt into him, moaning as I pull the strands of his hair.
The birthday mood shifts in an instant into something heated and urgent and sweet.
He lifts me onto the edge of the counter, moving between my thighs while still kissing me.
I wrap my legs around him, pulling him closer, and he groans softly against my lips.
"You want me?" He asks, pulling on my bottom lip softly, only to let it go, and kiss me again.
"Yes," I breathe, desperately reaching downward for his belt, my heart beating fast in anticipation. "Yes, I want you. Right now."
His phone rings on the counter beside us.
Before we can ignore it, it rings again.
Lawrence pulls away, breathing hard before picking it up.
He glances at the screen, and immediately, his entire body goes still, the heat between us vanishing within a second.
He answers without letting go of me, his voice suddenly tight. "Yes?"
I watch his face as he listens. The colour drains from it, and his jaw ticks.
The hand still resting on my lap tightens almost painfully.
"Yes," he says, again, his voice flat. "I understand. Thank you."
He hangs up.
"Lawrence? What's wrong?" I ask worriedly.
For a long moment, he doesn't move or speak. And it terrifies me.
"Lawrence?" I whisper again, cupping his face.
He blinks slowly, like he's coming back from somewhere far away, then replies in an almost robotic voice, "She's gone."
My heart drops to the floor and shatters.
His voice is barely audible. "My mum… s-she's gone."
The tragic words hang between us as the good day we tried so desperately to give him slips away into the dark.