Page 36 of Expecting an Argument
“I can’t wait ‘till Dad comes back from the war,”said the stupid boy.“Then we can shoot bad guys together!”
I launched up from the couch, yanked the TV out of the wall, and threw it to the floor. I held my breath through the initial crash, but let out a long, soothing exhale in the silence that followed.
When I opened my eyes, I took in what Olivia had done to the media room. She had strung multi-colored lights on the dark paneled walls, lined the cabinets of the bar with plastic evergreen garland, and taped a fat, glittery golden bow right on top of the framed poster listing all of Lindsay University’s national championship wins.
I walked over to the little Christmas tree and admired the cherry red and bright gold ornaments. I wrapped my hand around an odd, lumpy disk hanging off a high branch to find that it had Titus’s paw print stamped on it.
A flash of green beneath the tree caught my eye. Wrapped in shining emerald paper and gold ribbon was a present with my name on the tag.
Olivia had…bought me a present?
I carefully tore through the tape and unwrapped the paper to find a set of pajamas in the box. Well, it wasn’t exactly a set. Olivia had paired blue plaid flannel pajama bottoms with a navy “Elren Oilers” cotton long-sleeve. I couldn’t remember the last time I wore an Elren Oilers shirt and I couldn’t remember the last time I had exchanged Christmas presents with anyone, either.
Maybe I was too quick to accuse Olivia of not trying.
My eyes moved from the Christmas decorations to the ruined TV on the floor—yeah, I was definitely too quick to point fingers.
I blew out a breath as I rested the back of my head against thewall. I was tempted to blame Olivia’s outburst on her hormones, but that felt too simple. She had always gone the extra mile because she had a chip on her shoulder about needing to prove herself for whatever reason. Creating a Christmas explosion all over my media room was proof that she still had that drive in her, but why couldn’t she just care for herself?
I would have thought Olivia would have been grateful for the easy days I had given her, but maybe it was too easy. She had always run around like her feet were on fire between study hall or whatever new club she had signed up for, so I could only imagine how busy she would have been as a lawyer in a big firm. Losing that lifestyle must have felt like being a racecar crashing into a brick wall.
How…sad. That was it. Between the shock at the initial doctor’s appointment to refusing to care for herself, Olivia was just sad. If I were spending weeks alone grieving a life that I had lost, I might also count down the days until the pregnancy was over.
I looked down at the box in my hands. And yet, she had still bought me a Christmas present.
I groaned. Keeping Olivia at a distance made me look like an asshole, but I didn’t have much of a choice. If she had only known what had happened in my past, she’d give me a little grace.
Or she’d run to her gossipy best friend and ruin me.
God, Olivia was a fucking conundrum. I didn’t trust her, but that didn’t mean I thought of her as a cow. Where had that even come from? And why had she brought upgraduation,of all things?
She was the one who had been a terror that day. As if her valedictorian medal hadn’t been flashy enough, she had to wear all the medals from debate team and the fucking marching band, making them all clang together when she walked like a…
My eyes widened as ice trickled through my veins. Oh…ohGod.
I ran a hand down my face, wishing I could brick up the door to the media room and stay there, but I couldn’t just hide. I could almost feel Grandpa’s spirit whacking me with his cane to steer me in the direction of the kitchen.
I had to fix this, for the sake of my babies. If that meant I had to let a couple of the skeletons out of my closet to get her to understand, so be it.
So, against all my self-preservation instincts, I went to the kitchen. As I moved through the house, the sounds of Olivia’s sobbing got louder until I found her in a heap on the floor by the kitchen island.
A younger version of myself would have loved to see the smug, proud Olivia Adams cry on my kitchen floor—to witness her finally knowing what it feels like to lose.
The present Beau, however, watched Olivia’s tears drench her sleeves and felt like the smallest man on Earth.
Olivia looked up at the sound of my approaching feet and her eyes traveled up my body. I had put on the pajamas she had given me as sort of an olive branch. Though the flannel was cozy, I couldn’t feel comfortable just yet.
“I’ve been an asshole,” I admitted.
She nodded and looked down. “I…I barely cried when my mom died. I didn’t even shed a tear when I got fired from my dream job, or when I found out I was pregnant, b-but here I am now.”
She wiped the glistening tear tracks off her face with the heel of her palm. “I…Ihatewhat you’ve done to me.”
My stomach filled with lead. I would have rather she stood up and slapped me than say something that loaded. I wasn’t sure if she meant that she hated that I made her cry, or if the sentiment went deep enough that she hated me for making her a mother.
I rubbed the back of my neck. My lifetime of horrible luck had transferred to her as soon as we left that attic at our class reunion. I couldn’t restore her old life, but hopefully I could try to repair what I had broken.
Slowly, I sat on the floor across from her. My throat twitched as I worked up the nerve to speak.
