Page 82 of The Incredible Ordinary

My heart has started beating too fast.

With some magic intuition, Jordan leans toward me.

“Okay?” he asks quietly.

I smile at him. “Yeah. All good.”

It’s both a truth and a lie, and the two intertwine in a way I can’t even begin to untangle for myself.

We finish the lasagna, and Jordan gets up. I get to my feet, too, and help him clear the table. He brings out the cake and hands me a box of birthday candles. We stand at the counter, side by side, and I can feel the warmth of his body while we laugh and argue about how to best put the candles on the cake. I say we put them in the shape of the number fourteen. Jordan thinks we should do candles all over the top of the cake.

We bicker about it.

Laugh some more.

I push his hip with mine. He’s laughing so hard he needs to clutch the edge of the counter to stay upright.

We each hold one side of the cake dish when we carry it to the table and place it in front of Theo.

Somebody flicks off the lights, so Theo’s illuminated by the candlelight, grinning ear to ear. Dog jumps up and puts his front paws on the table, and Rory laughs—loud and happy—when Dog pushes his nose into the side of the cake and then gets a dopey, surprised look on his face, nose covered in frosting.

I take out my phone and film it when we all sing Theo happy birthday, and he blows out the candles. I take photos of him with Jordan and Kira kissing his cheeks and laugh when he looks both happy and just a tiny bit embarrassed.

Once we’ve all finished our slices of birthday cake, Jordan’s father shoos us out of the kitchen to deal with the dishes, and we migrate into the living room.

Kira goes to the record player on the table in the corner of the room and starts to shuffle through vinyls.

After a while, she pulls out one and looks at Jordan.

“I can’t believe you still have this.”

Jordan gets up and goes to stand next to her. “One of the best records I own,” he says with a laugh. “Come on, it’s a classic.”

“I used to tease him so much about liking this.” Kira laughs. “Great guy. Horrible taste in music.”

“Says the girl I once took to see that terrible boy band three nights in a row.” Jordan grins at Kira.

“Oh, they were so dreamy,” she says with an exaggerated sigh, and both she and Jordan share that secret smile of having a joint memory.

There’s a spark in her eyes as she pulls out another record, throws Jordan a look, and puts it on.

“Remember this?” she asks.

It’s one of those cheesy ballads about being perfect the way you are.

Jordan lets out a mock groan.

“Our song,” he says and presses his palm to his chest before they both start to laugh.

Kira extends her arm. “You have to dance with me now. For old times’ sake.”

“Is that how it works?”

“I’m afraid it’s the law.” She gives him a serious nod.

“In that case, how could I refuse?”

He’s an excellent dancer, and I’m not sure how I’m supposed to play it straight and keep my eyes off them as Jordan deftly and confidently guides Kira around the furniture and the people in the room in a makeshift waltz.