Page 32 of Expecting an Argument
I had to take advantage of it.
I smiled and jingled my keys. “Get in the car, boy. We’re going shopping.”
On the morning he left, Beau dropped a set of keys on the kitchen counter and said, “Hope you can drive stick.” As much as I hated to admit it, the blue 1969 Mustang that had once belonged to Beau’s grandfather was a much better ride than my old Jaguar.
I secured Titus in the Mustang’s front seat and dialed the radio to a holiday station so we could take the town in style.
We listened to classic Christmas songs as we cruised past the retro neon lights on the downtown shops. The drive-thru of the local coffee place was our first stop. I enjoyed my peppermint milkshake and Titus scarfed down his cup of whipped cream as I slowly drove around the neon-soaked town square, letting the Christmas lights sparkle in Titus’s dark eyes. He joined me in the grocery store as I filled the cart with wired ribbon, greenery, beaded garland, candy canes, ornaments, and a small Christmas tree.
I even grabbed a Christmas present for Beau, since he was the one paying for it all.
Once we were back at the manor, I set up the Christmas tree in the media room. The media room was offensively decorated in Lindsay University pennants and jerseys, so Titus and I spent all of Christmas Eve covering the snooty-school paraphernalia with holiday cheer. I even made a salt-dough ornament with Titus’s paw print.
When Christmas morning came, I arranged boxes of treats and toys beneath the tree and “surprised” Titus with the haul. With a lot of bribing, I got him to wear a Santa hat and sit perfectly in front of the small tree for a picture.
I smiled wide and called him a good boy, thebestboy, as I snapped photo after photo. When Titus had enough and wanted to lie down in front of the fireplace, my heart was so full.
I couldn’t help but picture my babies in Santa hats in front of the same tree a year from now, surrounded by all their beautiful, buteducational,toys. Maybe they would sit with Titus for a picture. Maybe I would let them try a taste of a candy cane.
I chose the best of the photo of Titus and texted it to Beau. He responded with nothing more than a thumbs-up emoji.
I spent the rest of the day in the media room flopped on the leather couch like a rag doll, watching all the Christmas classics on the massive flat screen while Titus gnawed on his new chew toy. Since I had spent the past two days playing Santa, I subsisted solely on milk and chocolate chip cookies.
If Beau had wanted to enforce my diet and water regimen, maybe he should have stayed home.
I sucked on the end of a candy cane as the credits rolled from the fourth movie of the day. Titus whined and nudged the edge of my slipper with his nose.
“OK, boy,” I sighed. “We can go outside.”
I hauled myself off the couch and shuffled to the back doorwith Titus at my side. I stood on the patio with my hands in my pockets as Titus scampered off to do his business. I blew out a breath as my head fogged and I swayed uneasily on my feet—maybe I should have eaten more than just sugar. At least we wouldn’t be out for long.
The weather wasn’t frosty enough for a white Christmas, but it was still so cold that I was grateful for my new fleece-lined slippers and thick maternity joggers. Despite giving myself new comfort clothes for Christmas, I still had on my tried-and-true PSU hoodie. Margot had washed all my clothes with scent beads that I thought were wasteful, but they made my hoodie smell delicious and feel even more cozy.
Titus ran up to the patio from the grass with his tail wagging. It was just half an hour until sunset and neither of us had really moved all day—I probably should change that before all the daylight burned out.
I spied a wire basket full of tennis balls and carefully walked over to pick one up. I rolled the fuzzy yellow ball in my hand and showed it to Titus, waving it back and forth to make sure he was tracking the movement of the ball.
When I was sure he got it, I turned and threw the ball off the patio as far as I could—which, apparently, was only a few yards. The ball rolled to a stop in the grass just before dropping off a steep hill that sloped down to the cattle pasture.
Titus, apparently uneducated in the game of fetch, had stayed put on the patio.
I rolled my eyes and slowly walked over to the ball. “OK, we’ll try this again.”
I widened my stance and bent down to pick up the ball.
“But this time, you have to—”
Blood rushed to my head and my vision swam as soon as the ball touched my fingers. My side gave out, I lost my balance, and I went down.
I hit the grass and rolled, androlled—faster and faster until I came to a sudden stop.
For a moment, I couldn’t breathe. I just stared in shock at the orange sky as I gulped in dry gasps. When my lungs finally filled with air, I grabbed the swell of my belly. The twins weren’t moving, but they hadn’t moved before. Were they OK? How would I even be able to tell?
OhGod,what had happened?
I turned my head to find that I had hit the metal fencepost at the bottom of the hill that marked the beginning of the pasture. A sharp pain suddenly flared through my side where I had hit the post and I cried out.
My scream echoed, but no one was around to hear.
