Page 86 of Love Expert
“No.” I yank out a chair and flop onto the fake, cracked leather. “She didn’t reply.”
“But we know she made it home safe, since she’d left a note for Jeremy in her window last night?”
“Yes.” I bring my foot up and rest it on the opposite knee. “She made it home safe. I saw her car in the driveway last night. I also saw she had a guest over. A guy.”
Surprised, his brows shoot high on his forehead. “The kind of guy a single woman might invite over for mini pizzas and an eventual sleepover?”
“No! Fuck.” I hate how deeply a line digs between my brows when I scowl. How painfully a headache thuds at the back of my skull. I hate how much her silence hurts me, and how, instead of talking about my pain in a healthy way, I defer to anger. To rage. To defensiveness. “The dude turned up around seven. He went inside, stayed for an hour, and then left again. I was on my porch, and when I tried to talk to Maggie, she went back inside.”
“You fought?”
“No! We didn’t speak at all. I called out to her.”I waved like a fuckingmoron. “It’s like she didn’t hear me, because she turned around and went inside.”
“And you didn’t follow her? Didn’t knock on her door? That seems so…” He considers for a beat, then grins. “Anti-Billy.”
“No,” I repeat for the third time in a row. “I didn’t knock, because if she wasn’t feeling well, I didn’t wanna turn up at her place uninvited and be the reason we argued.”
His eyes narrow in thought. “Why wouldn’t she be feeling well?”
“Because of the pill she took. Because of the—” I gesture stupidly toward the board. “The Plan B.”
“She…” His eyes shoot wide. “Oh! Okay. You guys did something that required a Plan B. Noted.”
Like a fucking asshole, he reaches over his head and shakily draws a circle beside Maggie’s face.
It’s a pill, I suppose.
“She was worried and wanted to make sure nothing came of your night together?”
“Iwas worried,” I bite through gritted teeth. “So I told her to swing by the drugstore and pick one up. I texted again an hour or so after she left my place to make sure she got it.”
“And that’s when you invited her over for pizza and a movie?”
“Yes. But she didn’t reply. So I checked in again a few hours later?—”
“To see how she was doing?” he questions. “Or to ask about the pill?”
“Both! I wanted to know that everything was okay. Then I texted again around six last night. Still no reply.”
“What did you text her at six? Specifically,” he adds, rolling his bottom lip between his thumb and finger.
“I asked how work was. Re-invited her to dinner. Asked if she was feeling unwell because of the pill.”
“Oh, Billy.” He drops his head forward, shaking it side to side. “You are a seriously stupid motherfucker.”
“What?” I shove up from my chair and pace the length of the table. “Literally checking in, Ramone! Trying to see if she was okay. We’ve got douchebags out here hooking up with chicks and ignoring them after, but I’m begging her to talk to me, to tell me how she’s feeling. I’m inviting her to dinner to spend time with my son. What the fuck did I do wrong?”
“Bet you offered to pay for that pill, too, huh?” He brings his eyes up to mine. “I’ll spot you the thirty bucks, Magnolia. You don’t have to worry about it.”
“Well…” I stop in place and glare. “Yeah! Of course I did. It was my fault we needed the damn thing. Why the hell wouldn’t I?—”
“Because she’s a literal fucking purveyor of love, dipshit! Her entire life is built around matching folks and helping them fall in love. If she wanted to deal with quick fucks and birth control, she’d operate a stable, wouldn’t she?”
“The hell are you talking about? She needed to take it, Ramone! Because ofme. Short of grabbing the pill myself and shoving it down her throat so she wouldn’t have to do it, the next best thing I could do was remind her, offer to pay, and follow up to make sure she’s okay physically. Those pills screw with a woman’s?—”
“You followed up about her physical well-being,” he grunts. “But what of her heart, dickhead? What of her mind?”
“What…” I shake my head. “What are you on about?”
