The 30-Day Engagement by Waverly Decker

Author:Waverly Decker [Waverly Decker]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Calhoun Howard
Published: 2023-01-16T00:00:00+00:00

fourteen

The last day of april was unseasonably warm. Emory didn’t need a jacket, or even a sweater, when she walked down Flatbush in the overcast early morning gloom to Truly Outrageous for doughnuts and coffee, then the last few blocks to Francis’s. Francis was sitting on the steps outside with Sophie in a stroller, which she rocked back and forth with one foot. Emory found a dry spot next to her—it had rained earlier that morning and drops of water clung to the sides of the steps—and handed her a decaf latte and a chocolate doughnut with raspberry glaze and sprinkles, which Francis tore into immediately.

Francis beamed up at her. “My favorite! If I liked girls, I would like you best,” she said, mouth full.

Emory wrapped her hands around her iced Americano. It made her fingers numb. “Thank you, but I am perfectly happy having you for a best friend.” She blew a raspberry at Francis and leaned into her shoulder. The sun peeked through a cloud, and they turned their faces up to the welcome light.

Then Sophie made her own raspberry sound.

“I thought you were asleep!” Francis exclaimed. “Sophie!”

“Apropos, babe,” Emory added.

“My baby’s first word was pttthhhbbbt,” Francis called out to an elderly couple that was passing on the other side of the street. They didn’t hear her. “That’s my girl. Tell it to the world.”

Emory picked up Sophie and held her above her head, bouncing her gently. “Hoo-ah. Kiddo, I am going to enjoy being your auntie.”

Sophie responded by opening her mouth and ejecting a stream of puke down Emory’s front. Emory did the most prudent thing she could think of, which was put Sophie right back in the stroller. “Now what?” She was no longer in the mood for her custard-filled Long John.

Francis handed her a cloth. “You give thanks to the holy boob, giver of sustenance, occasionally purveyor of a post-meal barf. And you mop up.”

“I do give thanks for the boob, the holy boob, but maybe the next milestone to work on is learning not to projectile vomit.” Emory swabbed at her blouse.

“Wait until you find out about diapers.” Francis squeezed one of Sophie’s feet. “I could go away to a spa for the weekend, and you could stay here and be mom. By Sunday night, you’ll adjust your expectations about bodily fluids.”

“Hmph.” At least it wasn’t bird poop, she supposed.

Francis pulled out her phone while Emory finished blotting away the splatter. “According to this, Sophie’s a little young for raspberries. You’re precocious, beansprout.” Sophie was nodding off, uninterested in her mother’s assessment. “And according to this gossip site I’ve never heard of, Mari and Benjamin Thorston are getting married because she’s pregnant.”

Emory had to laugh. “Nah. Mari hates kids. Plus, the other gossip sites all say they’re going to break up because she’s spending so much money on the wedding, which would be believable if Thorston weren’t richer than Midas.” When she and Mari had been engaged, Mari’s plans evolved from eloping to a sunset wedding with a water view to hiring an entire circus for entertainment.

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