know how Chloe is.”
I stared at him.
“No. I don’t know how she is. That’s the whole problem.”
Then he said something that made my stomach twist.
“Don’t open the box.”
I looked at his face.
All the color had drained from it.
“I’m opening it.”
He said nothing.
“You can help me or leave.”
Eventually, he helped.
I lifted the top flap.
Inside were twelve wrapped presents.
Each one had my name written on it in Chloe’s handwriting.
Underneath them were cards.
Twelve birthday cards.
One for every
