Previously…
Clay gave me the blue velvet jacket for my thirty-ninth birthday. When he presented me with the beautifully wrapped box, I had a bad feeling about its contents mainly because I’d told him I didn’t want anything for my birthday other than a quiet dinner together.
“Happy birthday,” he said.
“I told you not to get me anything.”
“And I ignored that. Open the box.”
“Now?”
Clay rolled his eyes. “No, Patrick. I gave it to you now because I want you to open it tomorrow.”
Honestly, I would’ve had no problem opening Clay’s package the next day or the next week. Although he and I were on the same page about a lot of things, we seemed to diverge when it came to gifts. For Christmas one year, he’d bought me a gold watch that I’d hated. It wasn’t my style at all, and the sad thing was
