I’ve been putting off the birthday conversation for a week. “I’m sorry, Maisie,” I say. “It’ll just have to be a family party this year.” She blinks and bites down on her lip—the face she makes when she’s trying to be brave. “Why?” “We just don’t have the money for anything else, and this apartment isn’t right for a party with friends.” She nods, one tear trickling down her cheek. My chest collapses. I pull her into my lap and hug her tightly. “Don’t worry. It’ll be really nice. Maybe I can make some cupcakes to send to your school?” Like Mom never did for me. Maisie nods and rubs her eyes. “Okay.” If I have to steal the ingredients and stay up until 2 AM, I’m making the damn cupcakes. “I already got your present,” I whisper, giving her a big smile. Her face brightens. “Now go blow your nose.”
