Page 81 of Expecting an Argument
I paused the podcast and set the whiskey glass on the side table. “Fine, Mom, I’ll go put on my best tuxedo to stand by the door and wait for my children to be born.”
She sighed and leaned against the doorframe, her purse swinging from the crook of her arm. “You really haven’t heard from her?”
I shook my head. Aside from the blue sticky note that was currently in the pocket of my pajama pants, I hadn’t seen a trace of Olivia since our argument.
Olivia’s c-section wasn’t scheduled for another three weeks—well, two weeks and six days, to be exact. I wasn’t sure if she would let me drive her to the hospital for her next doctor’s appointment or if I wouldn’t hear from her until the birth.
Hell, she might even drop the babies off on the front stepswhenever she determined my first “weekend” would be. I shouldn’t expect anything more from a cold-hearted sadist.
“Have you thought of reaching out to her?” Mom asked. “Maybe checking in and seeing how she’s doing?”
I furrowed my brows. “You know, for someone who demanded that I stay mum with Olivia, you sure want me to get chatty with her. What made you change your mind?”
She pursed her lips. “Call it a mother’s intuition.” She paused, considering. “Or…”
My eyes widened as Mom pulled out a black and white striped journal from her purse.
She flashed a feline smile. “You can call it a plan paying off.”
I jumped out of the rocking chair and my phone clattered to the floor. “What the fuck, Mom? You stole her pregnancy journal!”
Mom shrugged. “Stealing would imply that I gave it to her, which I technically never did. Her job was to write her truth in the journal and my job was to read it to ensure she wasn’t swindling you like the last gold digger.” She tapped a fingernail on the back cover of the journal. “Adding a tiny tracker under the endpaper made sure I could always find it. There were no secrets between us girls.”
My mouth hung open. Mom had no limits, but I never thought she would go so far as to spy on Olivia!
“I can’t believe you!” I said. “That is a disgusting invasion of her privacy! Let me read it.”
Mom shoved the journal into her purse just as I reached for it. “No! This scheme was for my snooping purposes, not yours!”
I threw down my hands. “Damnit, Mom! No wonder Olivia didn’t want to be part of this family, not when we constantly hide the truth from each other.”
I turned and held onto the rail of one of the cribs, part of the little furniture Olivia had let me keep. I stared down at thedelicate green leaf pattern of the crib sheet, silently wishing that I could just blink and my baby would be there.
More than that, I wished with every pounding heartbeat that Olivia would just come home. I wished for her glasses on my nightstand, a house full of Christmas lights, and long car rides with snacks on the center console.
But just as I had to learn when I was eighteen, wishing for someone wouldn’t make them appear.
“I gave her everything,” I muttered, “Itold hereverything, and I still couldn’t make her stay.”
“You…what?”Mom hissed.
I whipped around. “I came clean about Dad, and Grandpa, and Katie, and everyone else. Call it one of my self-destructive urges or my trust issues if you want, but I had to see if she would hurt me. I gave her all the knives she could use to stab me in the back and…”
I closed my eyes and rested my fist against my forehead as my temples throbbed. When Olivia left, she didn’t rub the truth of Dad in my face like I had feared she would. She didn’t tell me I was weak, or too broken, or unworthy to be a father to her babies.
No, Olivia only did exactly what she always said she was going to do—leave.
“…she passed the test I gave her,” I said, opening my eyes to the empty nursery. “She didn’t hurt me, I just hurt myself. I should have never tried to propose.”
Before I could stop her, Mom grabbed my chin and forced me to look at her like when I was a little kid. Her eyes strained and the faded smell of menthol washed over my face as she nearly growled, “You tried towhat?”
I held her stare. “I wanted to marry her, Mom. I was going to propose after the baby shower.”
She pursed her lips and held her breath, her hand tremblingbeneath my jaw.
“I know I’m stupid,” I admitted. “I know I put our reputation, and our estate, and the entire family business at risk, but…” My voice cracked and I swallowed to keep tears away. “…she was just worth more.”
Mom released my chin and tossed her purse into the crib before plopping onto the rocking chair. Her eyes were fixed on the subtle star pattern on the ceiling as she sucked in a deep breath. Her fingers twitched atop the armrests, like she was fighting a tremendous urge to light up a cigarette.
