“Dude!” I say. We do this dumb handshake we came up with at his party last spring. “Guess what? I won back the girl.”
“Shut up.”
“I did. She’s all mine now, and I have you to thank for telling me about my messages landing in your inbox.”
We have a few beers and catch up. I don’t realize how late it’s gotten until some kid vomits. It’s all fun and games until the hurl parade starts.
After I make sure the puker is okay, I go outside to find my truck blocked in by two other cars, even though I’m parked at the end of my driveway. I’m too tired to hunt down the assholes and decide to crash in my bedroom. I text Maggie to let her know I’ll see her in the morning. No need for her to worry about me.
Except when I get upstairs, my door is locked, and there’s moaning, followed by the sound of my headboard knocking into the wall.
Those fuckers better wash my sheets.
47
MAGGIE
I have to pee again.
Groaning, I roll over, expecting to bump into Olly, but his side of the bed is empty.
That’s right. He didn’t come home last night.
The neon-blue alarm clock on the sideways fruit crate-slash-makeshift nightstand says it’s eight in the morning.
I push my tangled hair out of my face and drag myself to the bathroom. As I strip off my clothes to shower, I take a long look at my swollen body. My belly is pushing out, my hips and butt and boobs are bigger, and I still have at least three months to go. The doctor says anything over thirty-six weeks is considered full term for twins. I’m aiming for the full forty because she said that’s ideal for the optimal health of the babies.
Charlie was sweet to tell me I have a pregnancy glow, but the truth is, I feel gross. I’m not hurling as much, but food still hits me funny sometimes, and I feel awkward in my own skin. All those pregnancy videos online are depressing because so many women love being pregnant. As much as I adore the babies and can’t wait to meet them, I’m not enjoying being pregnant.
When I stare at my changing body, it makes me wonder if Olly is really attracted to me or if he’s just excited about the twins. We have a lot of sex, but I couldn’t help feel a niggle of doubt when he didn’t come home last night. I thought I made him an enticing offer about what we would do when he got back. Now that I see myself in the harsh light of day, though, I realize I’m probably not so alluring.
Olly wouldn’t cheat on you, Maggie.
I tell myself that over and over again. I thought I was being a cool girlfriend to tell him to go meet up with his ex on his own. He said Vanessa wanted to interview him, and I didn’t want to sit there like a third wheel and make it weird, but maybe I’m an idiot. Perhaps I should’ve gone with him.
After I shower and change, I head downstairs, hoping he’s home so I can get over the anxiousness that’s been swirling in my stomach since I woke up. Peeking out the window, I only spot my car and Amelia’s in the driveway.
Needing something to distract myself, I decide to organize my new textbooks, but I left them in my trunk. I grab my keys and go outside, but stop when I see my brother pull up to my house.
“Sebastian!” It’s so good to see him that I race down the front steps. Well, as fast as my round body will take me. “I haven’t seen you in ages.” We were supposed to meet up last weekend, but he had a conflict.
He slams his car door shut and stalks toward me, ignoring my outstretched arms. “Where is he?”
“Who?”
“Olly. Where the hell is that asshole?”
My brother looks so pissed, I back away.
That’s when he takes a good, long look at my belly. “Jesus Christ. He did this to you, didn’t he?”
Shit. This is not how I wanted to do the big unveiling. “Calm down. It takes two to tango.”
“When? When did he knock you up?”
“How did you even know Olly and I were together?”
“Mom told me you guys were dating several weeks ago. Been waiting for you two to come clean. But this”—he motions to my gut—“she didn’t mention this.”
