will be fine, evil fairy godmother,” Stacy says.
I blow her a kiss. I know our lives will never be the same, but as I walk back down to the waiting area, I can’t help but admit I’m rather relieved that my sister’s body hasn’t been inhabited by a rabidly obsessed mommy.
For the briefest moment, an unfamiliar sensation rolls through me.
Envy.
I want what she has. I want an adoring husband who loves me just the way I am, and I want a grub. What leaves me shaken is that when I imagine myself in the maternity ward, it’s Porter who’s standing protectively over our baby.
Did I really talk about him that much? I guess I must have. All this time I thought it was a silent crush.
As I think about it, I can almost kind of remember maybe mentioning him once, when I was trying to decide if it was worth ending things with Mike myself or if I should wait for him to meet someone else.
I remember my promise to give Porter an update, so I text him the photo. Meet Emily the Grub. The name is a work in progress. My sister is great. Thank you so much.
Those last four words are woefully inadequate to convey my gratitude to Porter for what he did. Even setting aside the emergency, I’m glad I’m here to be part of the baby’s welcoming committee, and as bad as Stacy claims my memory is, I know I’ll never forget that first glimpse.
What Porter has given me is something I’ll cherish the rest of my life.
He texts back. That’s a beautiful baby. Not surprising as she shares genes with you. And it was a pleasure to have you as my captive audience for so many hours.
I stare at what he wrote, and I feel like I’m sixteen again, analyzing the words sent by a boy I like. Because I do like this boy, very much.
Should I text back? Wait a few minutes?
Screw it. I write: It’s weird. After hearing your voice so much since last night, it’s in my head. I feel like you must be somewhere nearby.
That’s a really cheesy thing to write, and the way I said it is awkward, so instead of sending the text, I erase it and try again.
This time I write: I’d like to take you out to dinner to thank you for all your help.
The phone rings. It’s Porter, of course.
“I’ll take you out to dinner,” he says.
I find myself smiling. “When?”
“Whenever you want. It turns out there’s quite a bit of work waiting for me here, but other than that, I’m free.”
“What about tonight?” I ask. “It’s Christmas. Maybe you have plans.”
“It’s just another Thursday,” Porter says. “My family doesn’t really celebrate the holidays anymore. All my siblings are step-siblings with other families to appease, and my parents are remarried. It’s too complicated when there are so many people involved. Everyone has somewhere else to be.”
Everyone except Porter, it seems. The thought of him alone for the holidays fills me with sadness.
“You should come have dinner at my dad’s house,” I suggest. “There’s always way too much food, and we’ll be short one—probably two people.” Because I’m sure Greg will want to stay at the hospital with my sister and their new daughter.
“Are you sure I wouldn’t be intruding?”
“Positive. It’s not unusual for us to have a few strays. Not that you’re a stray or anything.”
Porter’s laugh is rich and deep. “I wasn’t offended. What time do you want me there?”
“Let me text you in a couple of minutes.”
“Sounds great. I’ll talk to you soon.”
After I’ve managed to subdue the schoolgirl-crush grin that wants to take over my face, I go to find Dad.
“Dinner?” he says when I tell him I’ll be bringing a friend. He slaps his forehead. “I completely forgot. We’ll have to cancel. I’m not ready.”
I guess Porter and I will have to find something else to do.
Chapter Fifteen
Porter is waiting when I walk out of the hospital. His car is pure white, an impressive feat given how much mud and salt is on the streets.
He’s my knight in shining
I blow her a kiss. I know our lives will never be the same, but as I walk back down to the waiting area, I can’t help but admit I’m rather relieved that my sister’s body hasn’t been inhabited by a rabidly obsessed mommy.
For the briefest moment, an unfamiliar sensation rolls through me.
Envy.
I want what she has. I want an adoring husband who loves me just the way I am, and I want a grub. What leaves me shaken is that when I imagine myself in the maternity ward, it’s Porter who’s standing protectively over our baby.
Did I really talk about him that much? I guess I must have. All this time I thought it was a silent crush.
As I think about it, I can almost kind of remember maybe mentioning him once, when I was trying to decide if it was worth ending things with Mike myself or if I should wait for him to meet someone else.
I remember my promise to give Porter an update, so I text him the photo. Meet Emily the Grub. The name is a work in progress. My sister is great. Thank you so much.
Those last four words are woefully inadequate to convey my gratitude to Porter for what he did. Even setting aside the emergency, I’m glad I’m here to be part of the baby’s welcoming committee, and as bad as Stacy claims my memory is, I know I’ll never forget that first glimpse.
What Porter has given me is something I’ll cherish the rest of my life.
He texts back. That’s a beautiful baby. Not surprising as she shares genes with you. And it was a pleasure to have you as my captive audience for so many hours.
I stare at what he wrote, and I feel like I’m sixteen again, analyzing the words sent by a boy I like. Because I do like this boy, very much.
Should I text back? Wait a few minutes?
Screw it. I write: It’s weird. After hearing your voice so much since last night, it’s in my head. I feel like you must be somewhere nearby.
That’s a really cheesy thing to write, and the way I said it is awkward, so instead of sending the text, I erase it and try again.
This time I write: I’d like to take you out to dinner to thank you for all your help.
The phone rings. It’s Porter, of course.
“I’ll take you out to dinner,” he says.
I find myself smiling. “When?”
“Whenever you want. It turns out there’s quite a bit of work waiting for me here, but other than that, I’m free.”
“What about tonight?” I ask. “It’s Christmas. Maybe you have plans.”
“It’s just another Thursday,” Porter says. “My family doesn’t really celebrate the holidays anymore. All my siblings are step-siblings with other families to appease, and my parents are remarried. It’s too complicated when there are so many people involved. Everyone has somewhere else to be.”
Everyone except Porter, it seems. The thought of him alone for the holidays fills me with sadness.
“You should come have dinner at my dad’s house,” I suggest. “There’s always way too much food, and we’ll be short one—probably two people.” Because I’m sure Greg will want to stay at the hospital with my sister and their new daughter.
“Are you sure I wouldn’t be intruding?”
“Positive. It’s not unusual for us to have a few strays. Not that you’re a stray or anything.”
Porter’s laugh is rich and deep. “I wasn’t offended. What time do you want me there?”
“Let me text you in a couple of minutes.”
“Sounds great. I’ll talk to you soon.”
After I’ve managed to subdue the schoolgirl-crush grin that wants to take over my face, I go to find Dad.
“Dinner?” he says when I tell him I’ll be bringing a friend. He slaps his forehead. “I completely forgot. We’ll have to cancel. I’m not ready.”
I guess Porter and I will have to find something else to do.
Chapter Fifteen
Porter is waiting when I walk out of the hospital. His car is pure white, an impressive feat given how much mud and salt is on the streets.
He’s my knight in shining
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