They had already started. Boxes were open, wrapping paper everywhere, Tyler lounging in his chair soaking in attention. I placed my gift quietly on the sideboard next to the cakes, suddenly aware of how small it looked. My brother called out, already flushed from drinking, pulling me toward the table and squeezing me into a seat between strangers. My mom raised her glass and began a toast about how proud she was of her family—her son, her grandson—her voice full of warmth that never quite reached me.
“I love you all.”

Everyone cheered. I raised my glass too.

“Happy birthday.”