“Including love. I’m not great at saying it out loud, but you’ll always have it.”
“I love you too,” she says, fresh tears rolling down her face as she squeezes me again, burying her face against my shoulder like a daughter might do with her mother in a moment like this.
Instead of resisting, trying to hold myself together, I let all the feelings wash over me, and for a few minutes, we stand there, rocking and embracing, crying happy tears together. “So, what part of that did you think might offend me?” I ask when she shifts backward to dab at her face with a tissue from the box on my desk.
Even with her blotchy-from-crying complexion, the blush rising to her cheeks is unmistakable. “I was afraid you might think I was calling you old when I said I would choose you as my mother. I know you’re not actually old enough for that.”
“No, not quite, but even if I were, I wouldn’t have taken your words as anything other than a beautiful, sincere compliment.”
“Okay, good,” she says, smiling.
“So, now that I’m stepping into the mother-of-the-bride role, give me a list of anything and everything I can do to help with the preparations for the big day and all of its related events.” I snap my fingers and point at her. “Including a baby shower, since you haven’t had one yet—at least not that I’m aware of.”
The curve of her lips shifts to a downward angle, and her ever-present glow dims. “I haven’t.” No additional words need to be spoken. She hasn’t had a baby shower because nobody has organized one.
As a close female friend, perhaps her closest, I should’ve offered.
Initially, Hope worried how the pregnancy would go, since a human woman carrying a troll’s child is essentially uncharted territory in the medical community, at least officially. I used that as an excuse to remain silent. But as the months progressed and her obstetrician seemed more confident in Hope’s ability to carry the rapidly growing fetus, I should’ve stepped up. Instead, I waited for someone else to act as host, and hoped I’d have a valid way to opt out of attending. I convinced myself that sending a great gift would be enough.
I put my emotional comfort ahead of her happiness. The opposite of being a good friend. Certainly the opposite of being a good mother figure.
“Do you have a few minutes for me to tell you a very personal story I’ve never shared with anyone?”
“Of course,” she says, taking my hand.
“I’m not sure I can make it through this if you start hugging me, which I’m pretty sure you would, so…” I motion for her to sit, then take the chair behind my desk. “Many years ago, I got pregnant unintentionally. My cycle had never been regular, and it hadn’t occurred to me that I might be. I found out I was pregnant and that I’d miscarried in the same emergency room examination.”
“Oh, Cate, I’m so sorry.”
I nod while gathering the rest of my words. “I didn’t tell the baby’s father about it. He wanted to travel, see the world, have grand adventures. I didn’t want him to give up his dreams out of guilt or obligation or concern for me. I told him I’d decided to stay here instead of going with him. He knew I wasn’t being entirely honest with him, andIknew thatheknew. But he didn’t press me for the truth. I told him what he needed to hear—that I was fine. That he could go without me.”
“But you weren’t fine.”
“No, I wasn’t. Far from it. I was devasted. I loved him. From the moment I met him. I thought that somehow, despite the challenges facing us, we’d be together for the rest of our lives.” I swallow hard, attempting to clear the gravel from my throat. “In the scan they did after the miscarriage, I learned I have a severely bicornuate uterus. In some cases, corrective surgery helps. In my case, they weren’t optimistic.”
Tears roll down her cheeks as she pushes up from the chair, then resumes her seated position. “No hugs.”
“Thank you,” I say with what I’m sure is the thinnest smile ever. It’s all I can manage. “You’re the only person who knows, outside of the medical professionals with access to my files.”
“I won’t tell a soul. Not even Ogram.”
“I appreciate that,” I say, nodding. “Anyway, I’ve just in the past few minutes become acutely aware that this old wound is the root of my shitty non-effort with your baby shower. I’m deeply sorry for that, and if you can forgive me, I’d like to make amends by throwing a kick-ass baby shower whenever you’re ready.”
“You don’t have to do that, Cate.”
“I want to. Truly. For you, but also for me because if I’m your stand-in mother, then I’m also about to enter myWorld’s Best Nanaera. If you’re okay with that.”
Laughing and crying, Hope reaches across the desk and squeezes my hands. “I’m so much more than okay with it.”
Just like that, the old pain aches less. My friend chose me as her mother. In a few weeks or months—however long it takes Hope’s troll-human hybrid baby to decide he or she is ready to join the world—I’m going to be a grandmother. I may have missed out on some things, but what I do have is beautiful.
Chapter Three
The Evening Before Hope and Ogram’s Wedding
CATE
At nine o’clock, the night is still young in the main bar, but already the music’s muted beat is steadily thumping its presence in the smaller upstairs room. I knew this would be the case, and I warned Hope she’d either have to forgo meaningful music at her party or crank it to a volume that’d make conversation impossible. She chose low-volume instrumental covers for a relaxed, subtle background vibe. It worked for about an hour, but it’s barely audible now.
