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Momma starts laughing with him, and that’s it. I can’t hold the tears back.
“Well, that’s just about the best laugh I’ve had in—”
“Now you know, Momma. I’m gonna go.”
“Oh, now don’t be like that, Megsy.” She says it as if I’m the one taking this the wrong way.
“You’re gonna be a grandma? That means I can start charging for grandma pussy,” Kyle says in the background.
Ainsley blanches, and I end the call.
We all sit there for a long moment. I’m not sure who is more hurt by the call, though I think Ainsley is the most shocked. She wraps her arms around me and squeezes me into a tight hug. Midge doesn’t take her hand off my knee until the tears stop.
It’s sweet, and her embrace is warm and I appreciate her so much, but right now, in this moment, what I want is Derek. I want his arms wrapped around me, his scratchy cheek against my face, whispering soothing things into my ear, his warm, masculine scent enveloping me. But that’s not where we are. We’re taking it slow. Because I said we should.
But it’s almost as if Ainsley can sense my thoughts, and she squeezes me tighter.
“Ainsley,” Midge says, her voice crisp. “If I’m not mistaken, I believe that water is two-hundred-and-two degrees right now.”
Ainsley bounces to her feet and busies herself with making three cups of tea, her pour over forgotten. We sit and quietly wait for the tea to finish steeping, watching the dried leaves rehydrate and plump in the hot water.
“We are your family,” Midge says, squeezing my hand.
Ainsley nods. “And it’s not just us. This baby is going to have six incredibly hands-on aunties—”
“And a great-auntie,” Midge interjects.
“If you’ll have us.”
A swell of emotion pulses through my chest and I have to purse my lips together to keep from crying. “Well, even if you won’t have us, we’re your family. And that’s all there is to it.”
I look up at these women, who dropped whatever it was they were doing to sit with me at our wobbly kitchen table. My heart hammers in my chest, as if trying to heal the fresh cut and suddenly, miraculously, finding a small patch to start with the mending.
CHAPTER20
DEREK
Airports are as mucha part of my job as the ice rink. It’s never bothered me much. The only other time I disliked the travel as much as I do right now, Deanna was eight weeks pregnant for the second time, and we’d been fighting. I wanted her to stay with her mother while I was gone so she wasn’t by herself. But she’d always been independent, and perhaps most critically, she was as stubborn as me.
The plane hit the worst turbulence of my life and diverted for engine trouble. When we made the emergency landing in Moline, Illinois, I called to apologize. She never picked up. She sent my call to voice mail. I figured it meant she was angry.
She miscarried that night.
Megan is not Deanna. I remind myself of this over and over as I drive straight to her house from the airport.
It’s one of those rare June days in Portland that actually feels like summer. Every tree is flush with bright green leaves and the air is thick with birdsong and the squeal of kids—or hipsters. I walk up the steps to their peach house, my roller bag at my side, and knock three times.
“Derek?” Ainsley tilts her head with a confused smile as she hovers in the doorway. “Was Megan expecting you?”
“I guess it’s a surprise?” Now that I’m here, I feel a little embarrassed.
“Oh, that’s sweet,” she coos, then tsks her tongue. “She’s not home yet though.”
I hadn’t considered that she wouldn’t be home. I check my phone and see it’s quarter to four. She works from home. She should be home.
Unless something happened.
She probably just ran an errand.
