Chapter 29

29

PORTER

T he morning after, I woke up before I was scheduled to be at work. I didn't know how—something about being sober and responsible had brought me from a deep sleep to wakefulness. Gina's bed was softer than mine, her comforter more luxurious. I opened my eyes to find her tucked beneath my arm, her hair fanned out across my chest.

I tried to extricate myself from her without waking her, but she stirred the moment I pulled my arm from under her.

"Where are you going?" she asked.

"I'm supposed to be at work today. I need to call your dad."

Gina frowned for a moment before saying, "No, I should call him. He needs to know what happened with George. And since I have no intention of letting you go, we might as well tell him about us too."

I was both nervous and excited about this prospect. "Are you sure?" I asked her.

"I'm sure," she nodded.

Gina dialed her dad's phone and relayed the information of what had happened the night before and that George was in police custody. After that part of the conversation was over, she said, "And, Dad, there's something else you should know." Putting her phone on speaker, we told her father that we were a couple.

To my unending shock, he was supportive. He also threatened to feed me to the woodchipper if I hurt his little girl. I promised him that I would always do everything in my power to treat her the way she deserved.

"You deserve good things too, Porter," Mr. Matthews said, causing a lump to rise in my throat. "You take all the time you need."

I promised I would return in two days and work through my weekend to pick up the missing shifts. I just hoped that two days would be enough to set Gina back on her feet. Her boss had forced her to take an additional week off, and that meant she would be alone during the day if I went to work. But I could commute from Nashville for a while, if she wanted me to. I had a feeling she would appreciate the company in her apartment. That, or she could come stay with me.

Whatever we needed to do, we could work it out. I picked up the broken television and took it down to the dumpster, letting myself back inside. Finding a vacuum in the closet, I eased the bedroom door shut and cleaned up the sprinkling of glass. There was a suitcase in one corner, having been discarded in all the chaos. I set it by the bedroom door.

Hunting through the refrigerator, I found some eggs and bacon. It had been a long time since I had cooked, but I was that I remembered how to fry an egg. The bacon sizzled in the pan, crinkling up and filling the apartment with its delicious aroma. I cracked the eggs into the rendered bacon fat and slid the finished product onto a communal plate just as Gina appeared, yawning, at the bedroom door.

I filled two cups with orange juice and set them on the breakfast table, pulling a chair out for her. She smiled happily, kissing me good morning before settling into her seat. I sat down beside her, putting the plate between us.

"I've never had anyone over for breakfast before," she said, taking a piece of bacon.

"I've almost never cooked anyone breakfast before," I countered.

"When was the last time you cooked for someone?"

"I actually cooked for Mike, a long time ago, when we were still in high school. I was spending the night at his house, and I woke up before everyone. I thought I would make the family breakfast, and I made a fair approximation of pancakes. They were nice, though. They ate them."

"Mike's your friend who visited you?" she checked.

I nodded, pleased to see her relaxed. I had been worried that yesterday's events would leave a mark, but so far, she seemed untouched.

"I'd like to pick up Evil. I miss her so much." She just assumed I would be spending the two days with her, and she was right.

"I can't wait to meet her," I answered.

The police called after breakfast and asked her to come in to give a complete statement. I drove, as she had been separated from her vehicle and I wanted to be helpful. I sat uncomfortably in the waiting area while it seemed like she spoke with the entire police force. It gave me the heebie-jeebies just being in the station. I had come so close to going to prison and had been hooked on illegal drugs for years. There's not an addict in the world who isn't a little bit paranoid, even those with a lot of sober time.

I was thrilled when she was done and we could go collect her cat. It wasn't until we got back to Gina's place and she undid the latch on the cat carrier that I got to see Evil. The feline ignored both of us, prancing to the food dish to see what was for lunch. Gina fed her and wanted to cuddle, but Evil was having none of it, content to sun herself in a bright spot near the window.

"I guess I know now why she's called Evil," I joked.

"She's just angry at having been boarded," Gina replied. "She'll come around."

We went to the big-box store for a new television. One of Gina's favorite pastimes was watching movies, and we couldn't do that without a screen. We found one reasonably priced and split the cost. She argued over it a little bit; she didn't want to accept the help, and we hadn't known each other that long.

"I also don't have a television, and I plan to watch just as much as you," I said.

"But…" She hesitated, standing in the audio-visual section between rows of flatscreens. "What does that mean?"

"What does what mean?" I asked.

"I mean, are we…dating?" She stumbled over the word.

"Do we have to be committed to buy a television together?" I laughed.

"Kind of," she said.

"Alright." I took her hands, gazing deep into her eyes. "Gina, will you be my girlfriend?"

She blushed. I could see all kinds of thoughts thundering through her head and was relieved when the only word to come out of her mouth was "Yes."

And just like that, our relationship began. We bought the television and took it back to her place. I hooked it up, and we watched part of a movie on the couch, before a make-out session got the better of us. We went out to dinner at one of the fancier restaurants in Nashville. It cost me as much money as I made in two days, but it was worth it. To see her happy was worth all the treasure in the world.

That night we went dancing. I wasn't much for the club scene, but when Gina appeared at the bedroom door in that tight little yellow dress, I decided I was up for anything. Her hips fit perfectly against my crotch as she wiggled to the music. And getting her out of that dress was even more fun than seeing her in it.

After my two days were up, I had to go back to work. I gave her cat an earful to take care of Gina and left, commuted from Nashville back to Singer's Ridge. She decided she didn't want to go back to work at the treatment center. There were too many memories, both bad and good. She didn't think she could relax there ever again.

Instead, she spoke with her boss, who agreed that a transfer to the main hospital would be better all around. Her new patients weren't addicts; they were regular people who needed surgery or had gotten sick. We talked about it one night over Chinese takeout.

"After George, I just thought I should get away from anything that had to do with drugs," she told me.

"I think it was a smart move," I agreed. "You have to stop retraumatizing yourself."

She sighed, putting her fork down. "Thank you for being there for me, Porter."

"Stop," I cautioned her. "You're the best part of my day every day."