“Just came to visit Maisy.”
Laura paused, her hand in the air. She pointed at me. “You had sex.”
I looked around. “How do youknowthat?”
“Oh, I’d know a good sex glow anywhere.” She set the folder down, took the wrapper off the lollipop, stuck it in her mouth, leaned against the counter of the nurses’ station, and said, “Tell me everything. I need all the details.”
I scrunched my nose. “I’m not going to give you thedetails.” But, oh, did I ever want to. But no. That was gross and overshare-ish. “But I will say…” I did a little dance and sang, “I have a boyfriend! I have a boyfriend!”
Laura looked wary. “Honey, multiple orgasms do not a boyfriend make.”
I gasped. “How did you know about that?”
She snorted. “Mason’s bedroom skills are as notorious as his failure to commit.”
“Great,” I said under my breath. But no. I shook my head. I wasn’t going to let anything ruin this moment. “No, he asked mepre–multiple orgasms if I would be his girlfriend. It was so cute.”
Laura squealed very softly, jumping up and down a little. “You have a boyfriend! That means you’re going to stay here with me!”
I laughed. “What?”
“Oh, you know. A girl can’t stay in a small town when there’s no one to date.”
I nodded seriously. “That’s the truth.” I pointed toward the nursery. “I just wanted Maisy to have a visitor today.”
“Oh, um…” Laura started and trailed off. “You don’t want to go in the nursery right now.”
“What? Why not?” I was walking that way.
“Oh, you know, huge blowout from one of the babies. The smell is just…” She waved her hand.
She was lying, and she wasn’t even good at it. As I turned the corner, I saw through the window why Laura didn’t want me to go to the nursery. Her face told me that she had heard all about Julie and me. But I wasn’t surprised. I was no stranger to small-town gossip. Julie was there, in the corner rocking chair, holding a baby. I sighed.
“She’s one of our volunteers,” Laura said.
Holding preemie babies has to be the best volunteer position in the world.
I had a decision to make. I could leave. But that would mean not seeing Maisy today, because I wouldn’t have time after I picked up the kids.
And I couldn’t bear the thought of that sweet girl not having a single visitor. So I would put her first. I would overcome my childish thoughts and be the bigger person and say hello.
Julie noticed me right away. Her face darkened and then brightened artificially. She smiled like seeing me was all she’d ever wanted. We were too far away to really speak, but she waved, and I wavedback, noncommittally, I hoped. I didn’t even care that she was there. It meant nothing to me. At least, that’s what I tried to tell myself.
But none of that mattered when I saw that sweet girl. She was sleeping, but as if my staring woke her, her long eyelashes fluttered, and she looked up at me. I knew babies that age couldn’t smile. But when she saw me, she did. I swear she did. And, for the first time, when I looked into her eyes, I saw Sarah. And that made me sad. The beautiful child that created this perfect baby would never really know her. And this perfect baby would—as I well knew—spend a lifetime wondering about the mother who gave her up. What was her story? Was she forced to give her up? Was she really a princess who was going to come save Maisy from her humdrum and oh-so-normal existence?
I picked her up, kissing her sweet cheek. “Hi there, little girl,” I whispered into her ear as she started to fuss. Laura walked over with a bottle. “I could have done that,” I said.
“Not your shift,” she responded sunnily. “Plus,” she whispered, “I was afraid you’d make it wrong in your sex haze.”
“Haha.”
Maisy began to cry in earnest when she saw the bottle.
“I know. You’re a hungry girl.” I walked over to the rocking chair closest to Maisy’s crib and adjusted her in my arms. She sucked hungrily, never taking her eyes off my face. She wrapped her tiny hand around my pinkie, and I thought my heart would explode. I had been so distracted by Mason, so happy about how the home visit had gone, that I hadn’t taken the time to let my big fear sink in: What if I didn’t get to foster Maisy? What if she went to a stranger?
A voice saying my name broke through my thoughts, and I looked away from Maisy to see Julie. “Hi,” she said casually, smiling, as though the last time we had seen each other hadn’t been incredibly strangeand awkward, as though this simple interaction weren’t fraught and laced with meaning.
“I just wanted to say that I’m scheduled to volunteer on your days off.”
