by Maya Rossi
I squint at the bar owner, surprised at his words. They are business partners, not friends. I looks around the bar, spots Peter hunched over in the corner. Vetty by some miracle fixed the lighting some weeks back.
“This isn’t your usual haunts,” Vetty continued, “give it two more weeks and you’ll no longer be a hermit, Luggy.”
Luggy. Is that what they call me? I take a huge gulp of his beer. Olivia would have wrinkled her nose, say beer’s bitter and ask for orange juice.
Two weeks since I helped load Olivia’s things into Lily’s car and I’m just as miserable as the day it happened. Even more so. Many things changed in my life with Olivia’s leaving. The town seemed to have mellowed somewhat. I notice people stay out of my way which is a kindness.
It’s Lily who surprises me with a visit three days after taking Olivia home. “You need to talk to someone,” she said.
“You?” I laugh.
She rolls her eyes. “A professional someone.” Clearing her throat delicately, she studies her manicured fingers. “I’m sorry about… I will never be… you and Livvy? It’s scary and annoying and makes me want to break things. But… I’m sorry for the affair…. and what happened after.”
“Stop,” I grit out.
“I heard about Rick. Hell, the news is all over town. Just like Eric--”
“They’re not the same,” I snap.
“Maybe not,” she agrees, “but their stories are similar. The affair, losing their families, the blames and the suicide.”
I drop my face into my hands, digging my fingers into my eyes. “Go, Lily.”
“Here’s the card.”
That’s how I find myself welcoming an in house therapist into my home. No way I’m making the drive to the city to see a therapist. All I need is someone catching wind of it and I’ll start hearing rumors of mental breakdown.
“So, you stopped making the ale?” Vetty asks.
“Yup. The money isn’t worth it,” I reply, wishing he’ll leave me alone.
A bundle of cash appears in my line of sight. I lean backward, eyeing him warily. “Back payments from what the ale’s worth.”
I’m speechless. “We struck a bargain.”
“I was ripping you off and you let me. I needed to see is you’ll come to your senses.”
I stumble out of Vetty hours later to find Peter waiting by my truck. “Fuck off.”
“And you too,” he retorts.
But his voices catches on the last word, ruining the effect. That’s when it clicks. Peter and Rick were friends and the kid’s hurting.
“Are you getting in or what?” he snarks.
On the drive, he’s quiet. I turn my sweaty face to the open window, letting the night breeze dry out my skin. Suddenly, Peter pulls to the side of the road and bursts into tears.
I hold him close in the cover of the darkness and together we mourned our friend. When his shakes subsided, Peter pulls away carefully avoiding my eye. He discretely wipes his eyes, then ruins it by blowing his nose loudly.
I smile.
“You’re a fool,” he says.
“I know.”
“You know,” Peter repeats, eyes widening in shock, “you know?”
“That I’m a fool? Yes.”
Peter laughs, hitting his palm against the wheel. “Saw something on Dana’s page. Seems your girl’s getting married.”
Chapter nineteen
“It’s not funny,” I seethe.
Dana arches her eyebrow in a sophisticated rise I can never manage. She looks every bit the heiress. She’s shiny and beautiful like a new coin while I’m exhausted, cranky and pregnant. I also do not have the time or the patience for her old shenanigans.
“It’s not funny,” I repeat.
“And what will you do about it?” She flicks a dismissive glance up and down my body. “You’re no longer interesting. At least you gave managed to give me a run for my money before. Almost. Now you spend the time being pregnant.”
The last bit about spending the time being pregnant amuses me. Dana for some reason has been trying to get me out of the house. She’s even resorted to matchmaking. “Announcing a fake engagement isn’t going to make me go out with Thomas, don’t do it again.”
I don’t wait for her reply. I return to my room to do all I’ve done since I got back. Brood. With a sigh, I fall back on the bed. My hands automatically fall to my stomach. I smile. I’m still considering whether to call Grif or not. Em says I should. Even mom believes I should. But I’m still a little angry with him.
There’s a quick knock on my door and Em enters, wrinkling her nose. “When last did you air out this room for Christ’s sake?”
I ignore her, moving to lie on my side. “I’m not in the mood.”
“If you were going to do nothing but mope, maybe you should have fought for your love a little harder.”
“You want me to fight for a man who doesn’t want me?”
“Pretty sure that baby in your stomach negates that statement.”
I roll my eyes. “Only you will use ‘negate’ in a sentence.”
Em gathers some of my clothes and takes them to the hamper. Shame pushes me to my feet and I help her get the room in order.
“Has Richard said anything about the baby?” she asks.
“I’m not even sure the man knows I exist.”
“When he wants to preach inclusiveness at one of his company thingy he sure knows you exist,” Em says with a frown.
“I’m not complaining. Actually I prefer it this way. I and my baby will just go under the radar.” I tilt my hand in a slow dive to demonstrate.
Em scoffs at that. “You’re one of those very pregnant women, there’s no chance of that of going under the radar.”
“Very pregnant women?”
“You know the one, their cheeks and nose get fat and you know at once they’re pregnant.”
“Can noses get fat?”
“Come on, let’s go get ice cream,” Em says, grabbing her purse.
“I want a nap,” I whine.
“I read walking helps the baby,” she says, practically dragging me to the door.
The drive helps, revving me up and driving off some of my lethargy. By the time we get to the new ice cream parlor I feel a little like my old self. Em doesn’t get out of the car, she cuts me a cautious glance. I’m instantly wary. The last time I saw that look, we ended up in detention.
“What?”
“Hillary owns the parlor.”
“Damn.” Hillary is the mousey, quiet nerd who keeps her own company. I made her life a living hell in junior high and she’s hated me ever since. It’s not something I’m proud of. “So, why did you bring me here?”
“I had no choice?”
“Come on, I will apologize and get an ice cream. We’ll be fine.”
For just an ice cream parlor, the place is impressive. It’s obvious Hillary put lots of effort into the choice of a location and the decor. There’s a fairly sized crowd at the counter and in booths enjoying themselves. I’m arguing with myself whether to apologize first before ordering when it’s my turn.
“Livvy,” Hillary greets.
She hasn’t changed. Her hair is still the same unflattering brown and her figure wholesomely round. For a second, I search her eyes. They are curious and patient and bear no ill will. “Hi, this is great.”
“Thanks,” she smiles, “so far so good.”
When I return to our booth, Em is gone. Even if talking to Hillary is all I achieve today, I’m good. A huge grin splits my face. I grab my spoon and begin wolfing down the ice cream. Moaning at the burst of flavors on my tongue, I silently despair for my figure.
I glance up from my ice cream and gape at Grif standing by my table. “What are you doing here?”
A shaggy beard covers half of his face, the dark bags under his eyes practically sags his cheeks down. His chest rises and falls rapidly while his eyes pins me to the spot. Did he run all the way here?
“
Wait, you left Lizanne?”
“You’re getting married?” he asks.
I want to savor his scent and height and voice but I’m struggling to string thoughts together. “What?”
“You’re getting married?”
“It’s just one of Dana’s pranks. Why?”
His chest rises and falls in relief. “I-- just, I thought you found someone else.”
“And if I have?”
“I will try to respect that,” he says.
My appetite disappears. I shove the ice cream in his direction and rise, anger smoldering in my heart. I grab my bag and slide out of the booth. “You’ll respect my choice like a gentleman, really? Where the hell is Em who says I should fight for my love?”
Grif looks dazed, then he smiles. “You want to fight for me?”
“How did you get here?”
Dark color scores his cheek bones, it’s endearing but it only makes me angrier. If he doesn’t want me, why is he here?
“Peter saw your engagement” he accused, “he contacts Dana--”
“Dana?”
“Yeah and we got to Em and--”
“Em is in on this too?”
Now he looks irritated. “Will you let me finish?”
“Why will I do that, you don’t want me. That’s fine, just stay on your own lane, or in Lizanne more like,” I mutter, heading for the exit.
A thought stops me in my tracks and I turn around. “How did you even get here? I thought….
“I came for you.” Grif drops down on one knee. “Marry me?”
A shocked gasp ripples through the room. I raise my head and realize we’ve been the center of attraction for the past minutes. Across the room, Hillary and Em watches me expectantly. I glance back at Grif, kneeling he’s almost as tall as I am. But his eyes are gentle, loving and I trust him to protect and care for me more than anyone else.
Slowly, I cradle my stomach. “I’m pregnant.”
His eyes goes wide. “You’re carrying my baby?”
“Yes?”
His eye light up. “Yes, please. Let’s go home.”
“Let’s.”