Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 117574 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 588(@200wpm)___ 470(@250wpm)___ 392(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 117574 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 588(@200wpm)___ 470(@250wpm)___ 392(@300wpm)
Tessa carefully places the cake onto a table and everyone, including Charlotte, Thea, and me, crowds around it. When Charlotte sees the top of the cake, and the elaborate unicorn painted in icing on it, she hoots with laughter.
As Charlotte listens to the birthday song, she’s got her tiny doppelganger at her side, a huge smile on her face, and a palm resting on her growing baby bump. And for the millionth time since my beautiful wife showed me that positive pregnancy test six months ago, I feel my heart surge with excitement and love for her and our family. We did it. Everything we’ve ever dreamed about, individually and together, we’ve made it happen. We’re living the dream, Charlotte and me. A real-life happily ever after.
Charlotte’s fans have loved seeing her pregnant, by the way. Both times. In fact, when Charlotte announced this second pregnancy to her fans, she had her best month, ever, thanks to all the congratulatory tips that poured in. Charlotte made so much money that month, as a matter of fact, she bought me a cherry-red Ferrari as a birthday gift. Paid in full.
It was an outrageously extravagant gift, and I told her so. But, secretly, I was beyond thrilled she did it. Years ago, I told Charlotte the story of my brother, Max, and his Ferrari. Sorry, his Portofino M. Max always used to correct anyone who referred to it as a paltry Ferrari. But when I told Charlotte the story back then, I was making fun of my brother and his obsession with his stupid sports car. I never in a million years thought she’d file that nugget of information away and one day buy me the same wildly expensive car. Apparently, my face while telling the story gave me away. Charlotte could tell it was my dream car. And now, it’s sitting in our garage, courtesy of my amazing wife and her online band of loyal sickos.
When the birthday song ends, Charlotte and Thea blow out the birthday candles and everyone claps.
“Thank you so much for being here to celebrate with me!” Charlotte shouts above the cheers and applause. “This is the best birthday, ever!”
Tessa hugs Charlotte, so I head over there and hug Charlotte, too.
“Happy birthday, baby,” I say, after kissing her soft cheek. “I’ve got one more present for you. The best one yet.”
“Another one? Oh my gosh, Auggie.” I showered her with gifts this morning. Jewelry. Flowers. A pair of highly specific sneakers she wanted for some reason. But this is her 40th, baby. A big one. So, as nice as all those gifts were, I had to go big with this final one. “I’m sure it’s amazing, love,” Charlotte says. “But best one yet?” She holds up her hand to reveal the sparkling diamond ring I gave her this morning. “I don’t think anything is going to beat this.”
“Just you wait.” I find my brother in the crowd, and thankfully, he performed his duties and marshalled the troops. Or rather, our makeshift boy band. Max, Ryan, Fish, and Henn are all standing together in a clump, awaiting my signal to take the stage.
I give the group a thumbs up and they collectively flash me one in return. I lock eyes with Tessa nearby and give her a signal, since she’s going to be our emcee and song-button-pusher, and she winks and climbs onto a nearby chair.
“Can I have everyone’s attention, please?” Tessa bellows. “Hello? Attention, please.”
It takes a minute, but eventually everyone is quiet and looking at Tessa.
“Happy birthday, Charlotte! Let’s hear it for the birthday girl!”
Everyone applauds and cheers.
“Charlotte, you’re a very lucky birthday girl, because tonight, just for you, for the first and only time, the world-famous boy band, Auggie Loves Charlotte, is here to perform their global smash hit, ‘All Strings Attached!’” As the crowd titters in confusion, Tessa flings her arm toward me and the rest of my boy band on the other side of the patio, where we’re already standing in formation with me in the front. She bellows, “Enjoy the show, Charlotte! This one’s for you!” She pushes a button, and two second later, the song begins blaring through overhead speakers.
“What?” Charlotte gasps out, her green eyes wide.
The intro to the song is blasting, but my vocals—the ones I’m going to lip-synch while muddling through the choreography—haven’t started yet, so it’s understandable Charlotte’s feeling deeply confused about this ridiculousness. Thanks to Fish—the bass player of 22 Goats who’s now a good friend of mine, thanks to Ryan—the song blasting the party sounds like an actual hit song—one you’d hear on the radio in the 90s. It sounds totally professional. Familiar somehow, too, simply because it’s such a great parody. But as Charlotte and the rest of the party is about to find out, this song was created especially and only for one incredible boy-band fan: the one and only Charlotte McDougal.