She wanted to cry.

Her feelings were hurt.

She knew she was being childish.

She was a professional. Had a degree in pediatric medical care. Was the top in her field in the state.

She was a mother to two amazing boys.

She was the 'old lady' in charge of the SAMCRO clubhouse.

She could make even the meanest, scariest, most bad-ass biker in the country shake at the knees over fear of her wrath, with nothing more than a single glance.

But still all she wanted to do today was cry. Curl up in a corner and cry. Even while being surrounded by tons of people, she felt alone.

What made today so hard?

It was her birthday.

And no one, not even her husband, whom she had loved for more than half of her life, had said to her, "Happy birthday!"

When she was young, growing up with an abusive drunk for a father, Tara learned to plaster a fake smile on her face, pretending everything was okay. As she rode through life's ups and downs, it was a craft she had perfected. Through her ordeal with Kohn and becoming a full-fledged Sons of Anarchy old lady, she wore that fake smile that lied to the world. Telling all those around her that everything was fine.

She was a professional after all. She had held it together all day, thankful that her mind was busy with something other than it was her birthday, and no one acknowledged it.

She bowed her head in greeting to a group of pediatric nurses, smiling that fake smile as they passed her. She heard them whispering what she assumed to be idle gossip.

"So lucky…" "So gorgeous and attentive.." "Heard he brought flowers.."

Biting her lip to keep from crying, Tara picked up the pace to her office, jammed the key in the automatically locking door, pushed the door open far enough to slip in, and shut the door. She laid her forehead against the solid wood, slapping her hand against it in frustration as she broke out in a sob.

Jax had just barely gotten into her office bathroom when he heard the door being unlocked, open, shut, and then slammed against.

He had a huge surprise for her birthday. He really hoped she liked it. By the time he woke up that morning, she had already left for work and dropping the kids off at school and daycare. So he never got the chance to even tell her 'Happy birthday'.

Tara had this thing for a musician named Adam Levine.

"All those muscles and tattoos just make me want to…" he heard her explain to Lyla one day.

"Because you don't already have that," Lyla cocked her eyebrow at Tara.

"Oh trust me, I know Jax has all that," Tara replied, "And so much more."

'Goddamn right I do,' he thought.

"I'm allowed to think other men are hot though, right?" Tara defended herself, "I mean married woman drool all over my man all day."

He just heard Lyla chuckle, because Tara was right.

Maroon 5 was playing in Oakland and Jax was able to score a huge hookup! One of the guys in the Mayans crew's cousins worked at the arena as security. After a little personal bargaining, Jax was able to score damn near front row seats and backstage passes.

He had it all planned out. Gemma and the guys would stay with the boys, while they went out of town to the concert. They'd party a little bit, listen to some loud ass music, and get a little bit drunk, then go to a fancy hotel he booked.

But that plan quickly flew out the door when he heard her crying. What the fuck?

Walking up behind her, he reached out putting a hand on her shoulder.

At the touch Tara shrieked whipping around quickly, swinging her arm out to whomever was behind her, striking them in the face.

"Fuck!" Jax barked, clutching his face. Shit that hurt, but fuck if he wasn't proud.

"Jax?" she blinked at him through her blurry eyes.

"Why are you crying?" if he was gonna have to make someone bleed, he'd prefer to do it before they went to their concert.

Scowling, she swung at him again, this time on purpose, "You, you asshole!" she growled, striking him in the arm.

"Me?" he clutched his arm in confusion, "What did I do?"

"You forgot my birthday, Teller!" she pushed on his chest, "After all this time! I can't believe…" she sobbed.

"I didn't," he defended, quickly moving out of the way so she could see the flowers he brought her.

"Oh Jackson…" she sobbed again, as she moved to her desk to smell them.

"And look at what I'm wearing," he pointed out spreading his arms out so she could see he was kutte-less. All he had on was a black tank top and a pair of jeans. He was knife-free. And his hair tied tightly at the back.

"I don't understand…." She was flabbergasted.

Reaching into his back pocket he pulled out the concert tickets, handing them to her, "That's your guy's band right?"

"What….?" She looked at them wide-eyed.

"Tara Teller, I've loved you for 15 years," he moved to cup her face in his hands, wiping away her tears with his thumbs. "Do you think I'd miss your birthday? I'm not that bad of an old man, am I?"

"I …." She was at a loss for words, her lip quivering.

Smiling sweetly at her, he dipped his head to kiss her, "Happy birthday, babe. I love you."

"I love you too, baby," she hugged him, "Sorry for hitting you," she kissed the red mark she made.

"You know I can take a hit," he smirked, "It's good to know you can defend yourself, if needed."

She threateningly balled her fist up at him, smirking.

"Now go get that beautiful ass dressed," he slapped her ass.