17. Quinn
17
quinn
Stella: QUINN ELIZABETH BANKS. WAKE UP. NOW.
I hear the phone vibrate from the nightstand next to Porter’s bed, Grace sleeping peacefully between the two of us on his California King. Though, the term “sleep” is relative. I maybe dozed off for a few hours, but I think we were both so nervous that something would happen to her—since we didn’t have a crib for her to sleep in—that neither of us really slept more than a few minutes here and there.
And that’s why I’m not freaking out that I technically slept in the same bed as Porter for the first time in eight years. Because it wasn’t sleep. It was random naps with a baby between us.
Totally doesn’t count.
Quinn: What are you talking about and why are you shouting at me?
Stella: Um, maybe because someone saw you at the late-night pharmacy buying diapers. Care to explain, since I’m pretty sure you weren’t being a good aunt and getting them for your niece?
Simon: I can confirm that no diapers have been delivered to my daughter. Why is that? Huh Quinn? DON’T YOU LOVE YOUR NIECE?
I roll out of bed, careful to not wake Grace or Porter as I go sit in the chair in the corner of his room. I’ve sat in this chair many times, though normally it’s to put my clothes back on before I leave.
Quinn: I’m going to need everyone to quit shouting at me.
Ainsley: I promise to not shout, but I am going to need to know why you were buying diapers.
I let out a sigh, because I really thought I could make it more than twelve hours before anyone would realize what’s happening here. Damn small-town gossip mill.
Quinn: Long story short, Porter’s estranged sister abandoned her baby at the bar with a note. She wants Porter to raise her. He was panicked. So I’m helping out.
Maeve: Holy shit.
Simon: Another member of the Dad Squad! Love it! Tell him I’ll order his shirt. Initiation will be next week.
Ainsley: Is that why he texted you last night?
It takes me a second to remember what she’s talking about. Those emoji texts feel like they happened a lifetime ago.
Quinn: Yeah. That was it. He didn’t know what to do.
Stella: Smart. Though I don’t know if you’d be the one to call.
Quinn: Hey! I kept her alive last night. And changed a poopy diaper!
Ainsley: I’m proud of you. How old is she?
Quinn: Ten months? She’s a little doll baby.
I walk over to the bed and text a picture of a sleeping Grace next to a sleeping Porter. The scene is too cute, with his hand on her stomach, her sleeping like a little starfish under his touch.
It’s enough to make the ovaries combust.
Not mine. But I’m sure someone’s.
Keep telling yourself that Quinn…
Stella: Okay, shut the fuck up. That is the most precious thing I’ve ever seen.
Maeve: Quinn? While that’s adorable and all, why are you in Porter’s house at nine in the morning taking pictures of him sleeping?
Did she have to call me out like that?
Quinn: Part of me helping included spending the night. He doesn’t know how to change a diaper, let alone what to do if she’d wake up crying. He was terrified. So I stayed to make sure they were okay.
I know at some point today I’m going to be getting a phone call—not a text—from my sister about the validity of that last statement, and if there’s something more about why Porter would call me and not anyone else. In the eight years I’ve been sleeping with Porter, she’s the only one to even sniff that there’s something going on. But I’m pretty sure I threw her off the scent.
Then again, Ainsley saw me leave the night I came over after we went to the bar. Is she putting things together?
Shit. My carefully guarded secret might be slowly starting to unravel.
Ainsley: That was nice of you. You’re a good friend.
Phew. If she has any inklings, at least she’s keeping them to herself. Also, I can’t help but laugh at her use of the word “friend.” Ainsley meant it in the actual definition. Yet, all I can think is that I have to be the only fuck buddy in the history of fuck buddies to get conned into spending the night to take care of someone else’s baby.
Quinn: Thanks. I’ll probably be tied up here all day today helping him get settled. We need to get her more diapers and essentials. The only outfit she has is the one she showed up in. Probably need a crib or a pack and play or something.
Simon: Let me go through some of Lainey’s things. We have too many clothes and Charlie will be ecstatic that I’m getting rid of some of the things I bought on a whim.
Maeve: And don’t buy a pack and play. I know for a fact I still have Jayce’s. I just saw it when we sold my house. I’ll get it out of storage and anything else you could need. We’ll bring them by tonight.
Quinn: Thank you both. I appreciate you.
Stella: And please let me know if I can help. I’m here to pull a babysitting shift if you or Porter need a hand.
Ainsley: Same. We’re here to help, Quinn.
I feel a tear forming in my eye. I don’t know what I did to deserve this family, but I thank my stars daily that I’m a Banks.
Quinn: I love you all. I’ll keep everyone updated.
I set my phone down as the cutest little cry comes from the bed. I look up to see Grace starting to stir, causing Porter to quickly open his eyes.
“I got her,” I say, walking over to the bed and leaning over for Grace. “Come here, sweet girl.”
She immediately comes into my arms, laying her head on my shoulder as her quiet cries come from her tiny mouth.
“You sure? I can do it,” he says with his eyes completely closed. Does he think he learned to change a diaper in his dreams?
“I’m sure,” I say. “But we have a big day ahead of us. Jump in the shower and get that credit card ready, McCoy. It’s time to baby shop.”
* * *
“Are you ready?”
I go to grab a buggy, setting my iced coffee into the handy dandy cup holder, as I watch Porter do his best to strap Grace into the seat of the child-friendly shopping cart.
“You got it?”
“I’m fine,” he says as he bites his bottom lip in concentration as he tries to fasten the strap while little miss Gracie is wiggling around, wanting to look at every little thing. Though she’s definitely not as wiggly as she was this morning when I was trying to teach Porter how to change her diaper. “Also, did you need a coffee for this? You already had a cup today.”
I let out a big laugh as we make our way through the store. Little does he know this is my third and it isn’t even noon. “The answer is that you always need an iced coffee. But for this kind of shopping haul? Yes. An iced caramel cold brew with an extra shot of espresso and sweet cream cold foam is needed. Now, enough stalling. Off to the baby section!”
“Wait,” he says as I skillfully avoid the cookie aisle. “Why do you have a buggy too?”
I don’t say anything, because in about ten steps I’m going to sit back and watch Porter’s eyes as he realizes why I also needed a buggy.
Overwhelm shock coming in three…two…
“What the fuck is all this?”
And there it is.
“This, my friend, is the baby section. It has everything you’re going to ever need when it comes to this little one.”
Porter starts slowly walking down the aisle, eyes unblinking and jaw hanging as he starts looking at all the options, and I’m guessing by the choking sound he just made, the prices.
“I’m going to guess you didn’t know this section existed?”
He just shrugs his shoulders. “I’ve walked past it on the way to electronics, but I never paid attention.”
“That tracks,” I say as I head over to the diapers. I look at the label, making sure I’m getting the right size, before tossing the biggest box I can find into the cart.
“What the hell, Quinn?” he asks. “Why would you buy that massive box?”
I swallow a laugh, but on cue, Grace lets out the most precious, and well-timed, giggle herself. “That’s right, Gracie. You tell Uncle Porter that these aren’t going to last two weeks.”
“What?” he yells, following behind me blindly as I start loading up with wipes, ointments, baby food, formula, and all of those essential items you need for a baby. “Quinn. I thought you said we were getting essentials?”
“These are the essentials. And we haven’t even made it a quarter of the way down Ainsley’s list of things to get.”
“Wait. Ainsley knows?”
Shit. Does he not know the whole town probably knows by now? What must it be like to not be addicted to phones and social media? “Yeah. I’m guessing you haven’t checked your messages today?”
Porter pulls it from his pocket and I can see the moment he realizes that all of Rolling Hills knows about our newest resident. “How the fuck did this happen?”
“That’s on me,” I say, making my way to the baby bathroom aisle. “Someone spotted me last night when I ran out to get the diapers and formula. Apparently Quinn Banks buying diapers after dark is enough to set off alarm bells. Then, and this is only me assuming and knowing how our town’s rumor mill goes, the Facebook group got real nosy, someone saw my car at your house, already knew something was going on with your sister, and people started talking. My family was rioting for answers this morning. But because of that, Maeve and Simon are helping out with things they don’t need anymore for their kids. So that’s going to save a few bucks.”
Porter runs his hand over his face. “I mean, it was only going to be a matter of time. But I would’ve liked a few more hours to wrap my head around this before people start butting into my life.”
“I get it,” I say. “I can only imagine what it’s going to be like tonight when you show up to the bar.”
“The bar!” Porter’s outburst makes me jump, which brings on the first actual crying I’ve heard from Grace in the hours I’ve known her. “Shit. I scared her.”
Porter looks like a deer in headlights as Grace’s cries become louder. “It’s okay,” I say to Grace as I pick her up, but it was meant for Porter as well. “Shhh. It’s okay, Gracie Bear. Uncle Porter just got excited. But that’s because he has to tell your new, non-family, old-as-dirt uncles about you.”
My joke and soft tone work on Grace, who rests her head on my shoulder, but apparently not on her terrified uncle. I come over to him, Grace in my arms and my other hand rubbing his back, trying to offer some comfort. “Hey. I told you I’m here for you. For her. You tell me what you want me to do tonight. If you want me to work the bar, I can do that. If you want me to stay with her, I can do that as well. Stella and Ainsley have also offered babysitting shifts when need be. I’m sure Wes or any of his family will jump in when you need them to. Like I said, you’re not alone in this. It’s just going to take a little bit to adjust everything.”
His head is down, but he doesn’t shy away from my touch. “This is becoming more overwhelming with every minute.”
“I know. I’d be more worried if you weren’t acting like this. It’s a lot. And no one says you have to know everything right now. But hey! Last night you didn’t know how to change a diaper. This morning you learned. And right now you didn’t realize that babies have hearing and will react to loud screams. And now you do. Two new things learned in twenty-four hours.”
That joke makes him let out a soft laugh. “Can I do this, Quinn? And don’t sugarcoat this. I need the Quinn Banks who doesn’t pull punches. Can I actually raise this little girl?”
I could answer him right away, because I know the answer is yes. But I have a feeling he’s not just going to believe my words. He needs to truly believe it for himself.
“Are you going to give her a safe place to live?”
He seems shocked by my question. “Of course. Why would you ask?—”
I cut him off. “Are you going to make sure she has food and clothing? You know, once you get over the sticker shock of this shopping trip.”
He seems to realize what I’m doing and relaxes slightly. “I will.”
“Are you going to love her? Even though you just met her. And even though she’ll one day grow into a teenager who might try and stink bomb the high school. Will you love her?”
He smiles. “I already do.”
“Then that’s all you need to know. The rest you can figure out along the way.”
Porter nods as I let my hand fall off his back. But before I can step away, he reaches for me, taking that hand in his.
I’ve obviously held Porter’s hand before. I’ve held many pieces of his body. But somehow, in the middle of a baby section at a place where you can get an oil change, ground beef, and baby formula, somehow this feels like one of the most intimate moments we’ve shared.
And I’m pretty sure this man is about to kiss me.
“Porter…”
We start to move in closer, and Grace nearly jumps out of my arms.
“No!”
I don’t think I’ve heard her say a full word, so having it be this one is interesting.
Oh my God…is Grace the literal voice of reason on my shoulder?
Porter steps back as Grace turns and reaches for him, which puts the softest look on his face that I’ve ever seen. “We should probably keep going.”
“Yeah,” I say, trying to not feel disappointed that we didn’t kiss. I mean. We shouldn’t. Fuck buddies don’t kiss. Especially in public.
But I’m going to admit, over the last twenty-four hours, this hasn’t felt very fuck-buddy at all. It’s felt very domestic. Very relationship-y.
Which can’t happen. For one, neither of us want that. Two, I’m probably only here a few more months. And three, see number one. I won’t go back on my word to help with Grace. Porter needs support, and since I know a few things about babies and he knows none, I’m not going to back away from that promise.
But I am going to guard my ovaries and heart with an iron-plated shield that medieval knights would beg for. No fucking way I’m going to let a hot man holding a baby get to me. Nope. Not going to happen.
“No fucking way!” Porter laughs in the clothing section as he stops next to a display of headbands. “This bow is as big as her head!”
I laugh at his joy over a simple head band. And by the way Grace is clapping her hands, she’s also a fan. “Put it on her. See if she likes it.”
I stand back and watch as he slips it over her ears, and while she does try and grab it, he’s able to get it in place. And yup…the bright pink bow is roughly the size of her head. And cute as hell. Also, clearly this is a diva in training, because Grace is nothing but smiles as Porter lights up at her new look.
Stella is going to be obsessed with her.
“Do you like that?”
Oh shit…Porter McCoy using a baby voice. I didn’t see that coming.
Grace giggles as Porter nuzzles her nose. It’s the most precious thing I’ve ever seen.
Yup. Going to need that shield. Do they sell those here?
“Well, we’re buying that,” he says, grabbing five more in different colors. “Now, where are the highchairs? I need one of those, right? Wait—I should get two. One for my house and one for the bar. She’s going to need her own place to sit.”
Ah, fuck me. There go the ovaries.