Page 17 of Expecting an Argument
She pulled out a black leather wallet. “Paying for my fucking food.”
“You can’t afford it,” I said before taking a sip.
She snapped her head toward me and I swore her eyeballs were about to pop right out of her skull. “You ass! If you think I can’t afford an eight dollar stack of pancakes—!”
I pointed at her plate. “That is not an eight dollar stack of pancakes. You have no idea how much the price of silence is in this town.”
She stared at me mouth agape, her chest heaving with her furious breath, while I simply took another drink.
“Fuck you,” she finally said before sliding the straps of her bag onto her shoulder.
I pulled my lips from my cup. “Isn’t that how we got here in the first place?”
She shook her head and stomped toward the door.
“I fucking hate you,” she mumbled. She pulled open the creaking screen door and shot me a glare. “You piece of SHIT!”
She slammed the screen door behind her so hard I thought it might pop off the hinges.
I raised my mimosa. “See you next Tuesday, sugar!”
I had never been more excited for a doctor’s appointment in my whole life. I couldn’t wait to see the look on Olivia’s face once she realized I caught her in a lie.
I couldn’t wait to see the look on Beau’s face once he realized how much of an asshole he is.
The silence of my apartment’s parking garage amplified my anticipation for the doctor’s appointment. I drummed my fingers on my steering wheel, ignoring the painful rumbling in my stomach.
Not even when I was poor did I have such a long streak of bad luck. Not only did I drop my contacts down the sink drain this morning, my car wouldn’t start when I tried to grab breakfast before the appointment. I texted Beau about my car trouble, but he responded that he would meet me in the parking garage and jump my dead battery.
He probably thought I was lying to get out of the appointment, just like he thought I was lying about having an IUD and about him being the father of my baby. The only thing stopping me from murdering the next person I saw out ofsheer hunger was the thought of Beau’s embarrassment once he learned I was telling the truth. Maybe he’d even apologize. Oh, how I would love to see him grovel.
Once I got that bit of satisfaction, I would walk out of the doctor’s office and never see him again.
The low growl of a diesel engine echoed through the parking garage and a huge white truck pulled into the empty spot next to me.
I rolled down the window as soon as Beau stepped out of the truck. I met his eyes and then gave a pointed glance to the behemoth he had just driven up in. “I thought you didn’t have to compensate for anything.”
“It’s a farm truck—a rolling tax deduction,” he responded dryly. He tapped the hood of my Jaguar. “All right, open her up for me.”
I pulled a latch and the hood popped. As soon as Beau lifted the hood, white smoke billowed out.
“Get out of the car!” he shouted.
I fumbled with the door handle and flung myself out of the driver’s seat. He grabbed my hoodie’s sleeve and dragged me a few steps across the garage.
As soon as we were safely away from my car, the smoke thinned until it finally stopped.
My eyes dropped to a large puddle below the front of my car. “The hell was that? Is my car going to blow up?”
Beau silently walked over to my car and peered under the hood. “No, but you’re gushing coolant…and oil. The battery is the least of your problems.”
My stomach dropped. I wasn’t sure what that meant, but it didn’t sound good. “I swear to God, Beau, if you think I messed with my car just so I wouldn’t have to go to this appointment—!”
“I don’t think that.” He shut the hood and looked back at me. “You’re a lot of things, Adams, but you’re not stupid. This car istoast.”
I suddenly felt dizzy. “T-toast?”
He shrugged and tossed a glance at the car. “If you’re still under warranty with the dealership, they might be able to fix it without costing you five figures.”
