He shakes his head with disgust brimming in his eyes and stomps out the door, slamming it shut behind him.
65
MAGGIE
I stare at the front door, shellshocked.
All along I’ve been afraid that something would happen to make me and Olly revert to the antagonistic relationship we had for so many years, and in one single conversation, all of the headway we made in the last several months goes up in smoke.
I don’t know how long I cry, but my eyes get swollen and itchy before the aching sensation in my chest turns back to anger.
How dare he?
Did he actually accuse me of getting pregnant on purpose? Or did I imagine that bullshit?
Right. Because I wanted to blow my senior year. Because I love sitting on my ass all day instead of going to class and my job. Because I adore watching my body balloon out until I don’t even recognize myself anymore.
As I seethe, it becomes very clear to me how he got so twisted up. That bitch Amelia got in his ear. She must’ve seen the billboard when she flipped through my portfolio, and rather than ask me about it, she assumed the worst.
And who did Michael listen to? Me or his ex-girlfriend?
I waddle down the front stairs. It takes me a few minutes because that pain in my back is intense. By the time I make it to the casita, I’m sweating and shaking, but I can’t let this go.
After I pound on her door, it swings open and I snarl, “You have twenty-four hours to get your ass off my property.”
I wish I could storm off, but I can’t move that quickly. Amelia calls after me, but I ignore her. “Maggie, wait. Where am I supposed to go?”
“You should’ve thought about that before you ran to Olly and made false accusations. Stop trying to make ‘fetch’ happen!” I don’t know why I scream this. That line from Mean Girls makes sense in my head, but out loud, not so much. “Olly isn’t going to wake up one day and miraculously be in love with you. Move on!”
He doesn’t love you, Amelia.
And I don’t think he loves me anymore either.
The thought steals my breath. One of those Braxton Hicks contractions hits me so hard, I have to sit. Fortunately, I’m by the front stairs, so I hang on to the banister as I sink down.
Amelia comes running from around the side of the house. She pulls up to a quick stop when she sees me. “You look like shit.”
“You look like you’d be a nice person. We’re both giving off faulty vibes.” My stomach contracts again, and I groan. I’m hot and sweaty and nauseous. “Go away. Please.”
When I open my eyes a minute later, she’s still standing there. “Are you okay?” She waves at my stomach, a horrified expression on her face. “Are you having your Oompa Loompas?”
“Of course I’m not going into labor. I have four more weeks to go.” If I have to sit with my legs crossed for the next month, I’ll do it. Anything to make sure my babies arrive safely. The doctor said they’d have “optimal health” at forty weeks. That’s all I want. The best shot I can give them to live long, happy lives.
“Um. You’re already pretty huge. Are you sure you’re not in labor?”
“You’re really lucky I don’t have a firearm. Go pack your shit.” I grab the handrail and somehow manage to get myself upright. I hobble slowly up the stairs. When I get to the top, I turn around. “Haven’t you done enough damage here? You’re a plague, Amelia. Go initiate the apocalypse somewhere else.”
I’m opening the front door when she calls out, “I thought he knew.”
I rest my forehead against my house. “Sure. Whatever.”
“I swear. I just… I thought Olly knew and forgave you, and that’s what hurt. I couldn’t understand why he couldn’t forgive me.”
“Well, he didn’t know, and he’s not in a very forgiving mood right now. Especially when it cost him a huge endorsement. But thanks for laying all of that at my feet.” As I grit out the words, I can appreciate why he was fuming. If our roles were reversed, I would be too. I would feel completely undermined by the one person who’s supposed to have my back. I’m hurt and angry and might take a frying pan to his thick head, but I get it.
Amelia pads closer. “But… you are responsible for the billboards. You did the design. It was in your portfolio. Why not admit it?”
Turning, I glare at her. “I wrote the fucking tagline, Amelia.” Wouldn’t you like a Heavenly Hunk underneath your mistletoe? “I wrote the tagline before Michael’s photo was ever a part of the equation. That’s why the photo of the billboard is in my portfolio. I had nothing to do with the photo selection or the design of the ad. I was basically an intern who was fucking around with taglines because I was bored, and my boss saw it and thought it was hilarious and wanted to use it.” I’m incensed I can explain it so well now when I couldn’t string together two words when Olly was yelling at me.
