ALIANA

The house is already loud before noon, it's King's sixth birthday celebration already.

The house is totally transformed, kids are screaming for no reason, and someone—definitely Jenna—is arguing with the caterer on the phone about cupcakes that are very clearly vanilla and not buttercream.

I stand in the middle of the living room with my hands on my hips, breathing.

Just breathe.

“Mom!” King yells from somewhere behind me. “Where’s my crown?”

“It’s not a crown,” I shout back. “It’s a birthday hat.”

“It’s a crown,” he argues. “Because it’s my birthday.”

Michael appears beside me, holding a roll of tape in one hand and a box of decorations...