“The past three years, I have had no one. No one to celebrate with, no one who wanted to do anything for my birthday. Sure, I get the yearly birthday call from my parents, or the occasional visit from my brother, but they have been far too busy to make a day of it. I’ve never really cared much for my birthday, but it would be nice just once to spend a day forgetting about the rest of the world. I thought this might be that year, but-”

She cut off, averting her gaze again.

“I didn’t show,” I guessed, finishing her thought.

My heart sunk. She’d been waiting all day for me to show, and I let her down. Why had I been so insistent on getting the details right? I should have been there; maybe putting together this entire afternoon had been a mistake.

“You barely know me,” she whispered, her eyes settling on a bunched up portion of the blanket. “You weren’t obligated to spend my birthday with me.”

A twinge of guilt shot through me. I’d assumed Mallory or Calvin would have spent the day with her while I was out. I never wished for her to sit alone at the beach on her birthday, but gathering everything I needed had taken all day before I could make it to her.

Communication and feelings were never my strengths, and I was already drowning trying to show Lenny today mattered.

“I do know you,” I said quietly.

Her rich, dark eyes glanced up to find mine, and I pulled the basket I’d brought closer, slipping a hand inside. “I know that every few days, you change out the flowers in the vase on the counter, but they are always the same,” I said, pulling out a bouquet of daisies and handing them to her.

Her eyes widened, taking in what I’d calculated to be her favorite flower. Each time I’d seen the vase, daisies sat inside, but as days passed, I noticed they were changed out for new ones.

I pulled out a small gift wrapped in simple brown parchment paper and handed it to her.

“What’s this?” she asked softly.

“My gift to you.”

Her fingers fiddled with it until she finally unveiled the gift hidden inside. She pulled out the book, flipping it in her hands. The edges were a shining gold, and the cover was embossed with a floral design. I’d found the special edition in a tiny bookshop in town.

“Little Women?” she asked. “Like the classic?”

“Yes. I know you mainly read romances, but I wanted to share one of my favorite classics with you. One I thought you too may enjoy, based on the books I found on your shelf.”

Her cheeks turned pink at the mention of me browsing through her own collection.