Page 56 of Roommate's Guide to Love

Oh, tonight is going to be fun…

I quickly throw on a little makeup, fluff up my hair, and grab my long rain jacket because I don’t have a trench coat. As I tie the knot to close it, I check out of the window to see if my siblings are still here. They were all parked on the street, so I have a clear view of their whereabouts.

“All gone,” I say as I pull the jacket a little tighter. “Turtle, how do I look?”

My cat stares at me like I’m crazy, which is valid. But since he doesn’t have an answer for that, I doubt he’ll help me decide on whether to wear my black high heels or my comfy slip-ons. I decide to wear the flats in case someone sees me—wearing high heels on a Monday night is sure to raise suspicion if anyone at The Joint sees me—but I throw the black heels in a bag to hopefully slip on later.

I sneak down the stairs, making sure no one from the diner sees me as I get into my car and pull out of the back parking lot. Normally, the drive across town to The Joint takes five or ten minutes, depending if I hit the two stop lights along the way, but tonight it feels like it’s taking forever. I’ve never done anything like this before. Even though Porter told me to come—in his own weird emoji way—I’ve never been summoned like this. I’ve never taken the time to doll myself up. Yet tonight I had no qualms of doing either. In fact, everything about this has been exciting. Hot. And we haven’t even gotten to the good part of the night yet.

It’s nights like this I wish my sisters knew about me and Porter. I’d love to have girl talk about the man who makes me feel beautiful. The man who makes me scream. And the man who can’t keep his hands off me when we’re together.

But I can’t. Not that they wouldn’t keep my secret. I know they would. But me telling them I’m in a sexual situationship with Porter and don’t want any more will only have them playing therapist with me and trying to convince me that relationships aren’t all bad. And after dinner tonight, I think I’m getting enough therapy from them on my life.

I park at my normal spot in the back of The Joint, feeling like that will raise the least amount of suspicions. I speed walk through the parking lot, knowing I probably don’t have a lot of time before someone comes outside for a smoke. I hurriedly slip off my comfy shoes in place of the black heels and give myself one more shake of my hair before knocking on the door.

I quickly unbutton my jacket, knowing only Porter will see the lace number I’m wearing when he opens the door. My goal is for his eyes to pop out of his head.

And when he opens the door, his eyes are indeed big.

They are arguably not in his head.

But his face is also white.

I don’t think he’s breathing.

And, this is just a guess, but I’m pretty sure it has nothing to do with what I’m wearing.

“Porter? Why are you holding a baby?”

16

porter

“Get in here!”I whisper-yell, pulling a half-naked and fucking smoking hot Quinn inside my house.

She hurriedly ties back up her jacket, which makes me cry on the inside because I didn’t get to appreciate what she was wearing nearly enough. She follows me into the living room, where I sit the baby on the couch, encased by pillows so she doesn’t fall. I learned this trick an hour ago when she wasn’t having the baby carrier anymore and I was losing feeling in my arms.

“Porter. What the fuck is going on? Who is that baby? And, you know, why do youhavea freaking baby?”

I start pacing in my living room, trying to get my thoughts together. When I stop to take a breath, I realize that not only Quinn, but also baby girl, are looking at me with similar confused expressions. It’d be hilarious if this whole thing wasn’t absolutely insane.

“She—her—the baby…on my desk…in the bar…”

Quinn snickers. “There was a baby? In a bar?”

“Yes. Didn’t I just fucking say that?”

Her laughter is now gone from a snicker to a snort. “Why are you laughing? This isn’t a joking matter, Quinn!”

“I’m sorry,” she says, her laughter escalating. “When we get this figured out, I need to have you watchSweet Home Alabama.”

I shake my head in frustration, confusion, and hoping that if I shake it hard enough, I’ll wake up from this dream. “This isn’t a joke, Quinn. Wait. Why are you here? And why are you dressed like that?”

I didn’t mean for it to come out biting, but this whole situation has me losing my cool. Especially when I see Quinn look at me like I’m the dumb one.

“You told me to,” she says. “You texted me.”

“Yeah. We both did. But I didn’t think you’d take that ascome over now?”

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