Page 111 of Doughn't Let Me Go

“I ran. He followed. We decided it would be best if I didn’t interview.”

“Then how’d you get the job?”

“Basically he felt bad for me and offered it to me. I couldn’t resist saying yes.”

I look down the beach at Porter.

His head is tossed back mid-laugh as Kyrie stands there with her arms crossed, not happy with her father for laughing at her latest wipeout.

“For the pay,” I say. “Obviously.”

The girls grin knowingly, both shaking their heads.

“Right. Obviously,” Drew says, trying to smother a laugh but failing. “And how did the sneaking around come about?”

“Basically, I got drunk on my twenty-first birthday, begged him to kiss me, and he turned me down.”

“Okay, wow. You are a reallybad friend,Dory.” Drew says my nickname pointedly. “You didn’t even tell us it was your twenty-first birthday so we could go out and get you properly drunk? What the hell?”

“Well, if you were listening, her boyfriend got her drunk and thenrespectfullydenied her advances. I’d say she had a really good twenty-first birthday without us,” Wren tells her.

I blush when she says boyfriend, which is really stupid because Porter is definitelynotmy boyfriend. I know this, he knows this, andtheyknow this too.

So then why does the word make my heart race? Why is there a voice in my head that wants it to be true when we all know it can’t ever be that way?

“And now you’re together.”

“Yes,” I confirm, even though Wren wasn’t asking. “Well, nottogethertogether. We’re just…”

“Fucking?” Drew provides.

“Jesus, Drew!” Wren shakes her head, laughing. “What is wrong with you?”

She shrugs. “Nothing. Just ask your brother—I’m perfect.”

“Oh, I knowwaybetter than that,” she says. “Besides, I don’t trust his judgment when it comes to you. He’s all kinds of crazy about you. His views are clouded.”

“And are Foster’s clouded when it comes to you?” Drew challenges.

“No. I’m perfect.”

We all laugh.

Just then, Foster comes racing toward us, baby Nellie in his arms.

“Shit!” he pants. “Shit, shit, shit!”

“Okay?”

“Everywhere. All over me.” He pulls the baby away and sure enough, there’s a bunch of shit all over his stomach. “I’m gonna puke.”

Wren jumps to her feet and he hands his daughter off to his wife, who holds the baby out like the offending creature she is and races toward the house.

“I’ll be back!” she calls over her shoulder as she takes off after him.

“I amsoglad I don’t have to worry about Kyrie doing that stuff.”

“Be very glad. A blown-out diaper is the worst.”

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