“I saw a snake.” She talks to Maggie as though I’m not there, which is fine by me. I still haven’t forgiven her for that Heavenly Hunks bullshit.
Maggie’s eyes widen. “When? Where? God, I hate snakes.”
“Over there, and it rattled.”
I’m at the point in my relationship with Amelia where if she told me the sky was blue, I’d haul my ass outside to check first before I believed her. This woman loves making drama. She probably saw a garter snake or lizard. Hell, it could’ve been a shadow.
“Thanks for the warning. I’ll be on the lookout. In the meanwhile, perhaps you shouldn’t wear flip-flops.”
Amelia rolls her eyes like this is the biggest inconvenience of her life and stomps back to the casita.
Maggie watches her with a furrow between her brows. “That girl hates me.”
“I wouldn’t lose sleep over it. She hates everyone.” It took me a while to see that. I swear she was a different person when we first started talking. Was she hiding her true self, or did success turn her into such a mean girl? Hard to say.
Maggie and I head up to the porch and sit on the front steps. I lace my fingers together and hope I can find the right words. So I lay it out. Share the advice the guys gave me.
When I’m done, Maggie’s expression is surprisingly stoic. “I think they’re right. You should keep our situation quiet, let Coach Santos get to know you, and in the meanwhile, you should move back to the football house.”
Fuck. This sucks. “And you’re okay with this?”
She swallows. Shrugs. “What am I supposed to say? If you tell your coach I’m pregnant, he might use that as a reason to think you’re unfocused or, worse, irresponsible. Plus, you’re recovering from a serious injury, which might encourage him to use other players instead of you. If you live with me and struggle even a little during the season, your parents might think I’m the reason. You saw the look on your mother’s face yesterday. She acted as though I’d drowned a basket of puppies in a river. And, if you stay here, it’s not unreasonable to think Santos will hear about it. People talk.”
Everything she says is rational, but my gut is screaming this is a terrible idea. “Mags, I hate you being by yourself in this big house. What if you need something? What if there’s an emergency? What if I just want to see your face first thing in the morning?”
Her eyes go shiny. “You can come visit me. I’m not saying you can’t still sleep over whenever you want, but maybe your main base should be the football house.”
Back to living in a household of party animals. Not how I want to spend my fifth damn year of college.
I try to look on the bright side. “That’s if the guys haven’t already rented out my room to one of the other players.” Maybe I can’t move back. My parents can’t be pissed at Maggie if my spot’s already filled.
Maggie takes my hand. “Your teammates are welcome here. In fact, if anyone wants to swap with you and take your room here, tell them I have a treadmill and weights.”
Awesome. ’Cause I really want one of my asshole friends living with my pregnant girlfriend.
But Maggie is sincere and so sweet to offer, all I can do is give her a hug. I never tell her it sears my gut to think of another man taking my place.
40
MAGGIE
Breathe through it, Maggie. Don’t cry.
I hate how this pregnancy has turned me into an ugly crier. It stops here.
I swallow several times and blink fast as I chop some fruit for a smoothie.
This isn’t the end. You told Olly to go. You practically shoved him out the door this morning.
In the background, Cam and Billy grunt as they haul Olly’s bed down the stairs. After that’s all loaded in his truck and dropped off at the football house, they return with Cam and Billy’s crap.
“So we can take any of the rooms upstairs?” Billy asks.
“Any room that isn’t mine, yeah. Make yourself at home.” I hold up a hand. “Can I ask why you’re doing this? I thought you hated my house.”
Billy rubs the back of his neck. “Sorry I was a dick. I don’t hate your house. It’s starting to grow on me, especially once you added the workout room. That’s pretty dope, considering you don’t work out.”
I cough. “I work out. Perhaps not as much as I should, but…”
