Cars were parked out front. Cars I knew. Mark’s SUV. Sarah’s sedan. Jason’s truck.
My mouth went dry. “What is this?”
The officer parked and came around to open my door. He offered a hand. I ignored it and climbed out on my own, legs shaky. He guided me toward the entrance.
Through the glass, I saw movement.
Caleb went pale.
I stopped. “If this is some kind of joke.”
“It’s not.”
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 were standing there like they’d been waiting for the punchline.
