Total pages in book: 162
Estimated words: 153946 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 770(@200wpm)___ 616(@250wpm)___ 513(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 153946 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 770(@200wpm)___ 616(@250wpm)___ 513(@300wpm)
“The brilliant woman you love is asking you to say it.”
That was what a man should look like after winning the lottery. Or being proposed to by my godchild.
Phoebe had the right idea. Maybe we both did. I’d asked Wade to live with me a few hours ago, and now she was giving Todd the romantic proposal she’d been waiting for.
The theme of the night seemed to be: If you knew what you wanted, why wait?
“Yes. Anywhere and anytime. I love you. Yes.” He kissed her on the forehead and lips as I backed away to give them space.
“Do you want to come in here with me?” she asked sweetly.
In answer, Todd stripped off his shoes and stepped into the pool, fully clothed, situating himself behind her back.
And now I was crying. And resisting the urge to slow clap.
Way to go, Todd.
Someone took my hand and I looked up to find Bernie kneeling beside me. “I’ve been wanting to tell off that old bat for months.”
“I’m surprised she’s still alive. You’ve gone soft, Bernadette.”
“I was playing the long game to avoid suspicion.”
“Coffee and nibbles have arrived,” Yvonne said, carrying a tray and looking around the room. “I was checking on Morgan, poor dear. What did I miss?”
“Phoebe and Todd are engaged,” I said, my eyes still watering as I smiled.
“And Grandma Lane is no longer invited to Thanksgiving,” Bernie added happily.
“Amen to that,” the doula muttered under her breath.
Phoebe started panting, then emitted a long, pain-filled groan that sent a sympathetic stab through my stomach.
Todd looked at the doula in panic. “Another contraction?”
“That’s right. Only two minutes apart now. We’re fine. She’s doing beautifully.”
Her next groan was more like a shout of demonic outrage and we all flinched in sympathy for her—and for Todd, who might never have the full use of his hand again.
“Jaffa, kree,” she gasped.
We all looked at each other in confusion.
“What did she say?” Bernie asked.
“It’s from the show,” Wade answered grimly from the kitchen door. “I’m pretty sure she’s telling us to get to our battle stations, because the baby is coming.”
27
AUGUST
So that really happened.
Phoebe had a healthy baby girl. The bundle of baby powder and magic I’d held in my arms twenty-six years ago was a mother now. She was going to raise a little Sam of her own. Probably a hellion, based on her initial cries. Definitely smart and no doubt as beautiful as her mother and grandmother, once she got out of the bald, wrinkled and grouchy-old-man phase all new babies went through.
The sun was still thinking about rising as I sat on the hard concrete steps out front, feeling drained in the aftermath of all the emotions that had swamped me in the last few hours. Excitement and fear for Phoebe. Wonder, pride and a touch of horror that her body could actually do that. A touch of regret that mine never had. An explosion of love and joy tinged with worry for the little one who’d emerged into such a troubled world.
I wished for her sake that being human wasn’t so damn complicated. Maybe she’d find a way to make things better. Or at least, invent a workable teleportation device to other worlds. Somebody had to do it eventually.
I stared at the nondescript tan-and-brown house next door. In the faint morning light, I could see three cars in the driveway and a pink bicycle lying on its side on the lawn. How many families had rented the place since we left it? Did that bike belong to a young girl hopelessly in love with one of the neighbor kids? Would she be friends with the new addition to our family someday?
Had she found the initials I’d impulsively carved into the closet molding before I moved away? AR + WH. I’d wanted to leave some physical evidence that our love existed, even if it was entirely in my imagination at the time.
“Mamacita Mimosas,” Bernie said, taking a seat to my left and handing me a glass of what appeared to be innocent orange juice. “We’ve earned this.”
I took a sip, my lips puckering and throat burning. “Did we earn that much of it?”
“Were you not there for the same Aliens reenactment I was?” Bernie shuddered dramatically. “Phoebe’s birth was easy by comparison and nowhere near that graphically disturbing. When you have a baby in the hospital, the nurses whisk away all the evidence while you’re bonding so you don’t have to see it. It’s not just floating up around you like—”
“We all saw it,” I said, putting my hand on her arm to stop the description. “It’s burned into our retinas and through all time and space. A thousand years from now, people will still tell the story, but all we’ll remember is that you cried harder than the rest of us combined when you got to hold Sammy for the first time.”