Red:Haven’t said “I love you” yet
Not sure if I’m ready to say “I love you” yet
Mom would definitely have a problem if she sees that list hanging there, so I resist the urge.
My phone chimes again. I feel my heart lurch when I see the text icon, but when I check the screen, I see another pic from Margot.
I open the image and stare at it for a few minutes. Someone needs to take the phone away from her.
ME:????? What is that???
MARGOT:That was a close-up of my toes. There is zero space between them. I can’t wiggle them or separate them. They’re like little sausages.
ME:What if they never go back to normal?? What if you’re stuck with sausage toes forever? What if you can never wear flip-flops again because you can’t get that little plastic piece between your first two toes? You’re going to humiliate your kid with those feet.
MARGOT:I guess sausage toes are better than sausage fingers. Maybe I’ll have to wear those really ugly orthopedic shoes like Aunt Toby used to wear.
ME:You could bedazzle them. And maybe write your name in puff paint along each side. They would be adorable sausage toe shoes.
MARGOT:Now you made me hungry for sausage.
ME:You’re disgusting. And you’ve scarred me for life. I’m never getting pregnant for fear of sausage toes and bedazzled orthopedic shoes.
It’s a few minutes before she texts me back.
MARGOT:Mom just texted me that you’re not coming!!! What in the hell, Soph??? You were going to save me from the tug-of-war between Mom and Gwen. You know how those two are together!!
ME:You’re on your own. I really hope they fight over who gets to clean out the lint between those sausage toes. Maybe they’ll have to use dental floss.
MARGOT:You’ve given me a mental picture I’ll never be able to get rid of. I curse you with sausage toes for the rest of your life!
ME:I’ll come when the baby’s born.
MARGOT:Promise??
ME:Promise
MARGOT:So has Griffin gotten there yet?
ME:None of your business.
MARGOT:Give it up. No, wait…don’t give it up.
ME:Ha. Ha.
I scroll through all the social media sites, wasting time waiting for Griffin to call me. My phone finally rings, and his name flashes across the screen. I don’t even try to stop the smile that breaks out across my face.
“Hey!” he screams over the loud music and noise in the background.
“Hey! Where are you?” I ask.
“Matt’s.”
I’ve already seen several posts from people hanging out in Matt’s backyard and pool house, including Addie, my best friend since the third grade.
“Are you on the way to Margot’s?” he asks.
“Change of plans. I’m staying with Nonna and Papa. But I don’t have to be there for a few hours.”
