Page 94 of Love Expert

“You’re being a dick for the sake of being a dick.”

“Caroline just had her fourth. And guess what? I didn’t even kill her during delivery.”

“Stop it, Ollie. Jesus.”

“I can’t stop it, Wilbert! Because this is the same old shit, isn’t it? For eight years, you’ve blamed me for Aria’s death. We were like brothers before that, but then shit went bad, and for eightlongfucking years, I sat with my guilt and pain, because I should’ve done better. I should’ve done something different. I should’ve saved her.”

“I don’t blame you for that.”

“But you did!”

“I was angry!” I bite back. “A man is allowed to be angry when his wife dies on what should’ve been the happiest day of our lives. He’s allowed to fear condemning another woman to the same fate.”

“But if you can forgive Ollie for the freak incident that took her life,” Rose murmurs. “Then you can acknowledge it was no one’s fault. And if you can admit that, then you know no one is condemned to anything. It’s not seventeen-seventy-three anymore. Women are less likely to die giving birth than they are to die on the drive to the hospital.”

“Wait,” Ollie’s voice changes. “What are the statistics?”

“On average, twenty-one women per every one-hundred thousand die of complications during childbirth. That’s not even one percent. It’s zero-one-zero-zero-zero-two-one of a percent.”

“And car deaths?”

“In America, you have a one inone hundredchance of dying in a car accident.”

“Why are you so smart?” All gooey and sappy and shit, Ollie noisily kisses her. “My actual job is to deal with the carnage of both car accidents and childbirth, and Istilldidn’t know those numbers.”

“Great,” I growl. “So now we’re calling it carnage.AndI get to freak out every time she gets in the car and heads to work, too. What a fantastic fucking day.”

“You’re being dramatic,” Ollie drawls. “If you’re cool with her driving, then you should be cool with her having a baby. And if you loved her the way you say you love her, then you wouldn’t send her off and let some other motherfucker put a baby in her belly. Either you’re terrified of herdying in childbirth, or you’re not. To thinkyoursis some kind of Superman super dangerous sperm is pure vanity.”

“You’re being an asshole,” I growl. “Way to be sympathetic to your friend’s grief.”

“I was sympathetic! For eight fucking years! But you wanted nothing to do with me back then, so now this shit is on you. Go out and date your Giselle, let Maggie fall in love with some other second-rate poser, someone youknowwouldn’t love her the way she deserves. Let her risk someone else’s Superman super sperm, and then she can die. You could probably even bury her near Aria. They can chat in the afterlife and talk shit about how much of a pussy you are.”

“Fuck you.”

“No. I don’t want you either,” he spits back. “I wanna fuck my girl, and then I’m gonna head to work, because I’m already late and Dawes is gonna be pissed that I prioritized this dumbass conversation over his right to clock out.” The sound of his phone clattering to the ground rattles through the line. “Enjoy your Giselle, bitch. She won’t stack up.”

“Don’tenjoy your Giselle.” Rose scrambles and picks up the phone again. “Don’t go on that date, Billy. Talk to Maggie. Use your freakin’ words and figure this out.”

I stare down at the pair cuddled together on a single camp chair.

My son carries two across the lawn every single day, too shy to admit from the outset he doesn’t intend to sit apart, but too impatient to stay away for more than a minute, anyway.

Maggie glances up in the shadows, her eyes practically black in the evening darkness. She nibbles on her bottom lip, thoughtful and staring, but when I bring my hand up and risk a stupid little wave, she drops her gaze again and goes back to chatting with my son.

“Billy?” Rose questions. “Did you hear me?”

“Yeah.” I turn away from the window. “I heard you. I’m gonna go talk to her.”

Stunned, Rose audibly gulps. “You’re going to talk to Maggie? Not Giselle, right?”

“Her name is actually Luciana,” I chuckle.Fuck it. It’s time I tell her how I feel. Without shouting in her face.With renewed resolve and a metric ton of nervousness bubbling in my belly, I stride through my bedroom door. “I’m gonna tell Maggie I want to be with her.”

“You are!?” she squeaks. “Really?”

“Yeah. Why the fuck not?” I jog onto the stairs and head down. “Shealready doesn’t like me. Hardly tolerates me. Barely wants to know me. Telling her to cut the shit and love me back hurts nothing. But it sure as shit might be what we need to move forward in the right direction. Together.”

“I mean…” Rose snickers. “That’s the spirit. I guess. Don’t be grumpy, smile a little bit, and if she’s reluctant to jump on board, don’t spit your bad temper all over the place. Accept her answer and know it’s because she’s afraid of getting hurt. Then you can try again tomorrow. And then the next day, if need be. And the day after that?—”