Page 77 of Weather Girl

He slides onto the couch next to me, and I adjust the blanket to cover his legs, too. It’s a chilly night, and the crackling fireplace is perfection. Russell’s in a navy robe and I’m in one of his T-shirts, not caring that it’s big on me. It all feels so domestic, a word I once thought would never be attached to a scene in my life.

It’s good to see you happy, too, my brother said, and maybe I really am.

Russ nudges me with his knee. “You seem pensive.”

“I’m peaceful, I think. There’s a difference.” I take a slow, sweet sip of hot chocolate before placing it on his coffee table. “I don’t know. I’m just thinking about families, I guess.”

“Ah. A not-at-all fraught or complex topic.”

“I meant what I said about wanting to spend more time with Elodie. If you want me to.”

“Absolutely,” he says. “It’s a wonder she turned out as well-adjusted as she is, or she’s great at hiding it. Liv and I obviously didn’t have a clue what we were doing.” He sips from his mug. “She surprises me all the time, and she makes me laugh, and she’s this whole person with fears and ambitions and likes and dislikes, all completely different from mine. She’s so fucking funny, and she’s smart, and it’s just... kind of amazing.”

That awe is written all over his face.

“It’s obviously not without its challenges,” he continues. “I had no clue what to do when she chipped her two front teeth a few years ago on vacation and it took us three hours to find an emergency dentist. Or how to help her with her math homework. And I had to see The Emoji Movie.”

“Was that the one with Patrick Stewart as the poop emoji?”

“You know, he did what he could with it.” He glances down at the melting marshmallows in his hot chocolate. “I never had the time to decide whether I wanted kids. It just happened, and maybe it happened in a completely backward way, but... things are really good right now.”

“I’m so, so glad,” I say. “I used to worry whether everything with my mom would make me a bad parent. Around college, I started thinking it would be really great to have a family of my own someday. Obviously it would be different, and I’m sure it would be imperfect in its own way, but I want that. The imperfections. All of it.”

“The imperfections can be pretty damn great.”

We sip in silence for a few moments, until it occurs to me that we haven’t talked about Torrance or Seth once all day, and it’s a freeing thought. Maybe we found each other because of them, but what we have here—it’s all our own.

“I think part of the reason I was scared to give a hundred percent in relationships was that it meant I could potentially get to that place where I might start a family,” I say quietly. “I don’t even know what that would look like, if I’m being honest. But with you... I think I could get close.”

Whatever percentage of myself I was giving to those boyfriends, I realize now that wasn’t nearly enough.

Or maybe it’s that Russ is the first person who’s felt worth it.

“Come here,” he says, pulling me up against him. “I need you closer.” When I rest my head on his belly, Russell pats it and says, “Is this what they mean by a dad bod?”

“I don’t know,” I say. “Whatever it’s called—I like it. I like all of you.”

“I like all of you, too. Every version.” He brushes some of my hair out of the way, pressing a kiss to my temple. “I like you when you’re talking about sun in the forecast.” His mouth moves lower, lips fluttering over my eyelashes. “I like you when you’re gleefully telling everyone to expect about a hundred more days of rain.” A kiss at the corner of my mouth. “But I like the real version best. And I feel really fucking lucky that I get to see that Ari Abrams.”

When our hot chocolate gets cold, we can’t bring ourselves to care.

27

FORECAST:

The calm before the storm

“YOU TEND TO say ‘right now’ a lot,” the talent coach says. Matter-of-fact, not an admonishment.

On a monitor in the weather center, I watch myself deliver last Tuesday’s forecast. Right now you can see showers moving in this evening. And we’ll take a look at your seven-day forecast right now.

I haven’t had this kind of feedback since my college internship at one of KSEA’s rival stations. Melissa, the talent coach, is exactly right. Now that it’s been pointed out, it seems so obvious. But I’m not embarrassed—I’m learning.

“And you had a lot of slides too fast there.” Melissa points to the screen. “You could slow those down a bit more.”

“Absolutely, I can see that now. Thank you.”

Across the studio, Torrance is chatting with one of the cameramen. She catches my eye and gives me a wink, and I bite back a smile.

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