It was supposed to look effortless, like she hadn't put any work in at all. Dahlia bit the inside of her lip as her smile wobbled. He hasn't supposed to have any idea how hard she had worked at any of this. And yet there were disasters every which way she looked. She would not cry on his birthday, Dahlia told herself sternly. No. She could salvage this.

But then he was moving forward his wand already rescuing the milk from splashing on her, right over the jagged tear of her apron and he was saying everything smelled.... wonderful? "No it doesn't!" Dahlia protested, her voice wobbling now too. "I've burned the bread, wilted the flowers, scalded the milk. How can you even say it smells wonderful. I've ruined your entire birthday!" The words tumbled out of her in mounting hysteria, her arms gesturing from one disaster to the next until she flung them over her face to hide the tears that were beginning to well beyond her control.