Page 43 of Freefall

Just as I have the thought, my phone rings with an incoming call, and the bright smile of my oldest friend lights up the screen. She was the only other girl I connected with in high school, and even though she moved at the end of junior year, we’ve kept in touch through it all—college, jobs, new boyfriends, breakups, a baby, in my case.

“Gracie!” I answer the phone excitedly.

She sighs. “Must you call me that? It’s bad enough my brothers still insist on it. I mean, I’m a twenty-eight-year-old woman. You would think we could ditch the childhood nickname by now.”

Yikes. What happened to my sweet, yoga-loving, astrological chart-wielding free spirit of a best friend?

“Hello to you too,” I tease.

“Sorry. I’ve been such a grump lately.”

Abandoning the laundry, I stand up and walk out into the living room. “What’s going on? Is everything okay with work?

Grace is a general surgery resident at a major medical center in Portland. She’s one of the smartest people I know, but it hasn’t been smooth sailing.

“Yeah, it’s… fine.” She clears her throat. “Great. I meant to say great.”

“Sounds legit.”

That gets a giggle out of her. “Can we forget for one second that you’re the kind of friend who doesn’t let things go and maybe…let it go? Just this once?”

I move the phone away from my ear, eyeing it suspiciously as if I can see her current face, rather than the picture of her and Daisy from when she came out to visit us in Colorado a few years ago. “Okay, fine, but that means the next time we speak…”

“Hopefully it won’t even be an issue by then.”

“But if it is⁠—”

“I’ll tell you everything. Anyway, enough about me. I called to see how Baybridge is treating you. And if you’ve had any…run-ins.”

The last word is whispered, and I can hear her eyebrows rising through the phone. Grace is the only person who knows the entire story with Nate. From our meeting in the parking lot to the diner, to that last day in his apartment, and everything that came after that. Well, she knows my side of it. Nate’s side is his to tell, not mine. After she got over the initial shock that I was dating the Nate Caldwell—generous lover extraordinaire—she was truly excited for me. Then she was concerned. Eventually, she was the kind of friend who didn’t let things go.

“Actually…”

“Oh, shit. You saw him, didn’t you? Did he find out about Daisy? Is he fuming? Did he demand a paternity test? Is that little vein in his neck throbbing uncontrollably?”

That last one was oddly specific.

I take a deep breath, letting it all out until the oxygen fogs up my phone screen. “Yes.”

“Which part?”

“All of it.”

“Damn. What are you going to do?”

“Well, the test came back, and he’s obviously the father. I told him I wouldn’t keep her from him, but then I told him now isn’t a good time to meet her. Although, technically, he already met her when he stormed over to my parents’ guesthouse and looked like he was either going to kiss me or spank me. I’m still not sure which.”

There’s a long stretch of silence on the other end, and then once again, “Damn.”

“Yeah, and—” I’m interrupted by a knock at the door. No, not a knock. Banging. Again.

“Fuck.”

“What? Oh, my Goddess. Is that him? Is he at your door?”

“Shhh. I need to think.”

“About what? How you’re going to sneak out the back window like a teenager so you can avoid your baby daddy?” she whispers.