“So what was the final green light for Chap, Maureen, and Daphne to bring you and Porter together?”
“Chap’s birthday. They all assumed I would be too polite to turn down an invitation to celebrate him.” I smack my hand against my forehead. “I still can’t believe I was so delusional to think that a twenty-three-year-old man would want to spend his birthday with me. Beyond mortifying. Please don’t tell anyone at Alice’s wedding,” I beg. “Particularly not Perfect Stephanie.”
“Turns out Stephanie’s French film-director husband has a thirteen-year-old love child and a mistress living in a Parisian apartment nicer than Stephanie’s.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry for her.”
“No, you’re not.”
I chuckle and admit, “You’re right. I’m not. But I do empathize. I know what it’s like to be left for another woman and her child.”
“Oh, Stephanie’s thrilled. When Louis came clean, so did Stephanie. She’s had an Argentinian sidepiece for years. With everyone now out in the open, she and Louis are still together and happier than they have ever been.”
“That is so French.” I label it as I see it.
“Hey, if it works for them.” Quinn holds up her coffee mug to cheers with mine, and I reciprocate. “That’s why, in my mind, Callie, it’s not so delusional that Chap would be interested in you. At our age anything goes. And have you taken a look at yourself lately? You are on your way back to the girl I was determined to make my best friend all those years ago. I could feel the optimism radiating from you when I opened the door to this place.”
“Oh, please. I’m pretty sure you were just getting high off the pretzel and Biscoff cookie residue coating my clothes.” I brush away Quinn’s compliment with a wave of my fingers. “Only a best friend would still see me in that light. But thank you.”
“Don’t discount what I can see just because you can’t,” Quinn scolds me.
“Anyway, rather than have Chap pick me up, I told him we could meet at the restaurant. I wanted to have my own car for a guaranteed out in case I humiliated myself on my first turn back in the dating game. When I met Chap at the host station, he offered his elbow like the gentleman Porter raised him to be, and he confidently walked me straight into my past.”
“I cannot even imagine what it was like the moment you saw Porter.”
“You really can’t,” I agree.
“And did Porter know about this plan that you were led into?”
“About three days before Chap’s birthday, Maureen and Chap sat Porter down and told him they had found me in Sacramento. Porter didn’t believe them, but when they laid out the trail of evidence that led them to my house, he listened.”
“And Porter agreed to this whole charade? Doesn’t seem like something he would do. But then, what do I know? Maybe he’s not the guy he was in college. Or maybe I didn’t know him even then.”
“He’s still that guy from Princeton, Quinn, and he’s grown up to be quite a bit more.” Since my eyes connected with Porter’s at the restaurant, I have been performing mental gymnastics, trying to sort out my gut feelings. If there exists a murky bog between the shores of fury and fondness, I am swimming deep in it right now, fighting not to be pulled to the bottom.I need Quinn to toss a lifeline to save me. “He told me he agreed to their scheme because he was tired of me living in his mind. He wanted to see me in person. And he wanted the chance to explain where he disappeared to and why. Porter wants to explain it to you too, but I told him to wait until after the wedding. I also gave him your phone number. I hope that’s okay. I was weak with confused sentiment over the past and wistful for what could have been.” Quinn gives me a noncommittal shoulder shrug, and I don’t know if I should take that as anokayor a possibleno waythat she is going to talk to the guy who broke her best friend’s heart.
“What you should have been is angry with Porter over what should have been.” Of course, Quinn is right, but in the shock of it all, I couldn’t find my anger. I didn’t find my anger. Maybe I had used it all up on Thomas. Maybe between three gimlets and four hours, I was numb. All I know is that until I cracked open my notebook on United and began carefully crafting my comebacks, I was actually at a loss of what to say to Porter, so I mostly listened.
“You know what I can’t stop thinking about, Quinn?”
“I have a million different guesses to that question.”
“Thomas and I almost sent John and Andrew to Regis. We wanted to. It was our first-choice school. But it was across town, and at the time, Regis didn’t provide a student bus for our neighborhood. My boys could have had Porter for an English teacher and as a coach. John and Andrew could have learned to love literature, like me. Or I might have been the one to cheat on Thomas first.”
“You wouldn’t have,” Quinn insists.
“I think I would have, Quinn. When I saw him, I knew I should be irate. I wanted the three decades of disappointment to have hardened my heart against Porter. But in that moment, I didn’t feel it. The minute I saw him, I melted. All over again.”
“So what’d he have to say for himself?” I can tell Quinn is not thrilled about my leaning in to clemency, not even the slightest.
“We’re going to need a couple more orders of french fries for that part of the story.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
Present
7:00 a.m. (Thomas)
Skiing with the boys over Christmas has been restorative. We get in late tomorrow tonight. Sorry to miss the rehearsal dinner. Sorry for a lot of things. Looking forward to seeing you at the wedding.
