Page 1 of A Secret Baby for Christmas
PROLOGUE
CHLOE
My rain-soaked clothes stick to my body, chilling my bones and making me shiver. I hug my knees close to my chest and tuck myself into the doorstep, wishing I’d grabbed my coat before I ran out of the house.
But Papa was in one of his moods, and I had to get away. Maman’s back in France visiting my grandparents, and I couldn’t stay in the house with Papa one moment longer. So I ran, and the only person I could run to is Allie, my best friend.
I’ve been waiting on her doorstep for the last hour, shivering as the rain soaks my clothing. But I’d rather be here in the cold than at home with Papa.
Finally, a black sedan pulls into the driveway, and Allie’s dad gets out of the driver’s seat. Mr. Porter is the biggest man I’ve ever seen, with wide shoulders and height to match. As he pulls his tall frame out of the car, the rain pounds his head, making his dark hair stick to his forehead. He rests his elbow on the open car door and eyes me warily, seemingly unaware that his grey polo shirt is getting soaked.
Allie isn’t in the car with him, and I sink further into the doorstep as her intimidating father frowns at me, probably wondering what the heck his daughter’s best friend is doing soaking wet on his doorstep.
Allie must be at her mom’s this weekend, which means I’ll have to go back home to Papa. My stomach sinks to my knees at the thought of returning to my own house today.
Mr. Porter strides up to the front door, jogging up the last few steps. I stand up, my legs stiff from the cold, and take a step forward, preparing to leave.
He’ll probably ask me a million questions that I don’t want to answer. Panic rises as he gets closer, and my head tilts backwards as he towers over me. But Mr. Porter doesn’t ask questions, and he doesn’t send me home.
“Come inside.”
He unlocks the door and ushers me in as if his daughter’s friend sitting in the rain on his doorstep is a normal thing.
I’m dripping all over the floor, and I hurry to kick my shoes off before I get in trouble for ruining the carpet. But Mr. Porter doesn’t seem worried about his flooring.
“I’ll get you a towel, and you can put some of Allie’s dry clothes on.”
“Thank you,” I whisper, wondering how someone so big and rough looking can be so kind.
He hands me a towel and I scurry upstairs to Allie’s room, thankful that he hasn’t asked any questions. I don’t want to talk about Papa.
Allie’s room is at the top of the stairs, and it feels weird to go through her drawers when she’s not here. I choose her old pink sweatpants and her One Direction t-shirt. They haven’t been the same since Zayn left, so I know she won’t mind me wearing it. Then I pull a sweater over the top.
I bundle my wet clothes into the towel and leave it on the floor of the bathroom. I guess I’ll ask for a bag to put them in to take them home.
I sit on Allie’s bed wondering what to do. I’ve never been alone with Mr. Porter before. Allie’s just moved in with him after living with her mother for a few years. I didn’t think that she might be with her mom this weekend.
When I finally work up the courage to go downstairs Mr. Porter has a fire going, and there’s a steaming mug of hot chocolate on the coffee table.
“You want marshmallows on the top?” he asks.
I nod, and he drops two pink marshmallows into the top of the mug.
“Thank you.”
Mr. Porter smiles at me, and it softens his face and makes him look less scary.
“Allie’s with her mom this afternoon, but she’ll be back in about an hour if you want to stick around.”
He doesn’t mention anything about taking me home, and I’m grateful for that. So grateful that the knot in my stomach eases a little.
“Thanks, Mr. Porter. I’d like that.”
I take a sip of the hot chocolate, and it’s sweet and warm and he’s been so nice that tears spring into my eyes. I don’t want him to think I’m a silly girl who cries, so I turn away and swipe at my eyes before he can see.
Mr. Porter doesn’t notice, or he doesn’t say anything if he does.
“Do your parents know where you are, Chloe?”
