Max takes Edgar's hand and runs a thumb over his knuckles. "I'll be honest. I suspected that you wouldn't. I debated telling you that part just in case."

He lifts his other hand to Edgar's shoulder, "The number isn't really what's important. What's important is you get to sit there and listen to me awkwardly sing you the worst song ever written, and then you blow them out make a secret wish. It could be one candle, it could be thirty." He gives Edgar's shoulder a squeeze, "Trust me, you'll hate the song either way."

He cracks a smile, hoping Edgar will see it's a joke and laugh along.