Never Really Over (Bremmy 3)

Chapterish 38

THIRTY IS THE NEW TWENTY (IN CASE NO ONE TOLD YOU)

I don't really get birthdays.

People coming out of nowhere, wanting to talk to me and shit. It's not even noon and I already have HBD texts from everyone I know. Well, the ones that know me well enough to have my number.

The latest text comes from Whit.

happy bday girlie can't wait to see ya

*heart*

Oh, but can't you, Whit? Can't you wait? Chill with the overkill girlie.

I am spending this glorious July morning alone, which is nice TBH. I know a lot of people go ham for their birthdays and plan every second of it, but there's nothing I love more than a lazy birthday. I got up, taught the 8 AM intermediate class (a lot of swan posing), then went home, showered, and made a bomb iced coffee with oat milk.

Now I'm currently walking around the Seattle Waterfront, sipping said aforementioned iced coffee, scrolling through my slew of bday texts, and dying over all the old throwback pics Trix and Meg are posting to social.

Jesus Christ, 2006 fashion.

I'd be a boldfaced liar if I said every time my phone buzzed part of me wasn't thinking (read also: low key hoping) it'd be a text from Brooks. I mean, now that the cordial waters have so graciously accepted the dipping of our toes...

Maybe it's still too much to ask. Not that it matters. I don't need him to acknowledge me in anyway. Ever.

Stop judging me. It's not a crime to lie on your birthday.

I set myself down at my favorite bench along the pier to video call with Trix. She shows me baby Isla in her happy birthday auntie onesie and we talk about her visiting Seattle sometime before the wedding that's still two months away!

"I was just home after Bali!" I whine into the phone. "It's 100% your turn to visit. That's how it works."

"But -Baby card," Trix sing-songs into the phone, spitting her tongue out at me.

"Oh no, you did NOT just baby card me." I shake my head in disbelief, laughing.

"It was bound to happen eventually." Trix nods. "Besides, if you come here you can see your parents and Meg and Isla. You win out in this situation."

"You're unfair," I laugh.

I see a text from Josh telling me he's on his way out of the office to meet for lunch and should be here in 20 mins tops.

"Okay, okay, babe. I gotta go. Meeting the boy for a bite to eat," I tell Trix, air-blowing kisses at my phone screen.

"Ooo Joshi time," she coos. "You two behave."

"Stop."

I scrunch my nose and blow one last kiss before tapping the big red X on our video.

...

"Hi Emmy," Josh says, his lips finding mine and his arms wrapping around me.

We stan PDA.

"Happy birthday in person to the most beautiful, wittiest, and sexiest yoga instructor in all of Seattle." Josh squeezes my waist.

"Damn straight." I smile.

We are seated at a waterfront table out front of the café at the market. I'm just beginning to peruse the drink menu when Josh clears his throat. I glance up and notice he has a look on his face that I place almost instantly. A guilty one. Not like shit, sorry I just cheated guilty, but more oh man, I have some news.

"Yes?" I arch my eyebrows. "Spill."

"You know that totally chill and not at all big deal dinner party I was throwing you tonight?" Josh asks, grinning uneasily.

"Oh that. How could I forget. What about it?" I ask, abandoning the menu on the table.

"Well, the park space I had originally planned to use is apparently under construction," he says, annoyed. "So that idea is gone."

"Oh," I sigh. "That's fine. We can just–"

"Have it at Go Zen?" Josh raises an eyebrow.

"The studio?" I laugh. "I was going to say a restaurant or–"

"Don't say cancel it," Josh frowns. "A restaurant could work, if I hadn't already arranged for some light catering."

"Light catering?" I groan. "This was supposed to be not a party, Joshi."

"And it's not. There's only a 100 guests," he grins.

"Stop. You're lying! I don't even know 100 people."

"And only three different cakes."

"Stop it."

"And Okay, there is one exotic peacock." Josh shrugs guiltily.

"Okay, now I know you're lying," I laugh.

"Maybe a few clowns. That will be a game time decision," Josh nods seriously.

I sit back in the chair and let my eyes roll over the now crowded pier. So much for my lazy birthday. Josh must sense my unease because he reaches across the table to take my hands in his.

"Would you relax, Emmy babe?" He says almost laughing. "You know I know you. I wouldn't let you get away with no party. You only turn 30 once, right?"

"Ugh," I sigh barely audibly.

"Everything is going to be fine, honest."

"Better be," I grumble.

Josh sits back, stretches his long arms behind his head and narrows his eyes at me. "Maybe I'll cancel the peacock."

It's not that I care about turning thirty. In fact, I expect it'll all be very Jennifer Garner circa 2004. What I do care about is cutting the rope on a new decade –the prospect of the next 10 years being untainted by the last.