Page 58 of Roommate's Guide to Love

If you’re reading this, you’ve now met Grace. She’s going to be one in June. She’s your niece. And I need you to raise her.

I should start by saying that I’m sorry. This isn’t how I wanted to do this, but I couldn’t take the chance that you’d say no if I asked you the other day.

Because last year when I became a mother, I was scared. I didn’t want her, but I also couldn’t bring myself to have an abortion. You know our mother, so you probably know how she reacted to finding out my news. My dad said he was going to help, but he was sick and died soon after she was born. I thought I could do it on my own, but I can’t. I’m not built for this. And then, out of the blue, I met a guy who wants the same things I do. To travel. See the world. We want to live in a van and see every sight we can.

I wasn’t meant to be a mother. I don’t know how to do this. And I want to live my life. I can’t raise this baby. She doesn’t deserve me. She deserves stability.

Someone like you.

I don’t take a lot of stock into what Bonnie has said over the years, but one thing she once said always stuck with me. After your dad died, she went on a drunken rant about how “Porter has everything figured out.” She said you didn’t need her. Never did. She was trying to say it as a dig. But when something got to her like that, it’s because it was true.

So when I knew I couldn’t do this, when I had cried too many nights to count because I couldn’t do this, I remembered that. So I came here. Saw the life you’ve built for yourself. That you were those things Bonnie said.

Everything she isn’t.

Yes, I know we’ve barely spoken over the years, and I know this is the biggest thing I could ask someone, but I need you to do this for me. While I know I can’t do this, I also don’t want to put her in an unsafe situation. It might seem like I’m not, but I am doing this for her. And I need you to help me with that.

Please don’t try to contact me. All of the papers you should need are in this envelope. She’s yours, Porter.

I just ask that one day when she asks about me, tell her that I did what was best for her. Hopefully she’ll understand.

Missy

* * *

I don’t know how much time has passed. But I do know that I’ve read Missy’s letter no less than twenty times. I’ve stared at the birth certificate, immunization records, and a letter from Missy herself saying that she has given guardianship to me.

I feel the air hitting my skin. I see Quinn out of the corner of my eye holding Grace, letting her flip through a children’s book that makes noises. I even pinched myself a few times to make sure this isn’t some sort of fucked-up nightmare.

I’m not. This is real. So fucking real.

“You okay?”

I snort out a laugh, because I don’t know how else to respond.

“I’m sorry, bad question.” Quinn says. “I just…I don’t know what to say right now, but the more you don’t say anything, the more worried I get.”

I look over to Quinn, who’s since changed out of her lingerie and raincoat into a pair of my sweatpants and a T-shirt. I’m so fucked up in the head right now I can’t appreciate Quinn Banks in my clothes.

“I just don’t know what to say. Or think. Or do.”

“I get it,” she says, setting Grace on the floor with a few toys she found in her diaper bag, though she seems to be more interested in the remote control. “I mean, I’m rarely speechless, but a situation like this would cause it to happen.”

“I just don’t know what to do,” I admit. “I’ve never wanted children. Or at least, I never saw myself with one.”

“Same,” she says. “I’m built for the life of the cool aunt.”

“But that was then. She’s here. Missy is gone, and from the sounds of this letter, wants nothing to do with her or motherhood. If I don’t take her in, then what happens to Grace? Also, why would she think that I’m the guy for this job? She doesn’t know me.”

“An estranged relative who isn’t an axe murderer is better than foster care,” Quinn says. “I saw that happen a lot back in Arizona. Kids had parents who weren’t equipped to take care of them, and didn’t have family who could help out, went into the system.”

“No. Absolutely not.” I look down at Grace, whose big green eyes are already putting a vise grip on my heart.

Green eyes that seem to run in the family.

But it’s not just her eyes. Maybe it’s her full cheeks that have a little red in them. Or her small pink lips that are amazingly quick to smile. Or maybe it’s the part of me that knows she’s blood. And you do what you need to for family. Even if it wasn’t in the cards.

“And that’s why she picked you.”

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