She gets a weird look in her eye that I can only imagine is derision. She’s modeled for top agencies, so these little local companies probably don’t mean much to her. I change the subject before she says anything negative or offensive.
Since Charlie hasn’t said much, I ask how she likes living in Charming.
“It’s a lot different than the Panhandle, but that’s what I love.”
“You have to go to the Nut Festival. Everyone sells these crazy shirts about their big nuts. It’s hysterical.”
Once the game starts, we stop talking. It’s a tight match that has us all on the edge of our seats. Now that I’m pregnant, I swear I can feel my blood pressure rise.
Shifting uncomfortably, I close my eyes when my whole stomach tightens and shifts. I don’t have to look down to know that my belly is contorting.
“Mags, are you okay?” Sienna asks. “You, um…” She motions toward my stomach.
“I get these weird contractions sometimes. It’s what landed me on bed rest. I think the game jacked my blood pressure, and they just started again.”
“Do you want to go lie down? I can help you up to your bedroom.”
It’s a tied game in the third quarter. And I can’t watch the end.
I swallow several times and nod.
Even though the team wins, I feel like I just lost something vital.
58
OLLY
I’m staring at the ceiling again, unable to sleep. Beside me, Maggie is curled up, facing the other way. I try to spoon her, which she used to love, but she groans, “You’re too hot,” and pushes me away.
I get it. She’s thirty-three weeks into a difficult pregnancy and needs the fan blasting in her face so she can cool off. She’s been upset we can’t have sex, and yeah, that’s a bummer, but like I’ve told her, not the end of the world. For some reason, though, that just makes her more upset, like I’m missing something elemental about our conversation. Sometimes I feel like we’re not communicating in the same language.
After a restless night of sleep, I get up for my six a.m. strength and conditioning session. At least today is arm day, and I get out my frustration in the weight room.
Billy is lifting next to me. “Maggie still mad at you?”
I pause mid-lift and set the weights in the stand. “Why do you think she’s mad at me?”
He shrugs. “She’s usually pretty smiley, but not so much these days. Since it can’t be me or Cam because we’re awesome, I figure it’s you.”
“She’s been on bed rest. She’s miserable. It has nothing to do with me.” I don’t mention the sex thing because it’s none of his damn business. Besides, I don’t see how that would piss her off so badly. If she can’t have sex, how would that be my fault?
He gives me a look. “If you say so.”
His words linger with me all day. Is Maggie angry? Did I do something I’m not aware of?
When I finish lifting, I take a quick shower and get to class. I’m hoping to pop home during lunch, but I need to meet with a couple of students about a project, and that meeting goes long. After getting taped up, two hours of practice, a meeting with the team’s physical therapist, another shower, and a quick dinner, I hit the library.
Students bustle around me as I work on a paper. I have an hour to write what should probably take at least a few to get it done properly. My grade point average is on a slow downward trajectory, and for the first time in my life, I can’t seem to care about it. I have too much shit to do, and not enough time to do it. I’m hoping to get home before Maggie goes to bed, but once again, I’m failing.
It’s frustrating as fuck.
I groan when my phone buzzes again with another text from Sebastian, who’s still persona non grata in our house.
Tell me what to say or do to get her to talk to me. I feel like crap. You know I do. I want to make it up to her.
I’m really not the person to give him advice. Because all of my problems with Maggie really took hold after he decided to be a shit-stirrer, and I have some residual anger.
Although I suspect it would help Maggie if she made amends with her brother, and what kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t put her needs first?
