Page 99 of Love Expert

Even to myself.

“Got you too, huh?” Hard blue eyes viciously judge me. “Your palm is a metaphor for the shit you allow Billy to pull. What, you figure if you ignore the pain long enough, it’ll go away on its own? Sit down,” he growls, pushing me toward the bed. “I’ve gotta get more supplies.”

“Ollie, no?—”

“I won’t tell him you’re still here.” He stops at the curtain, his fist wrapped in the ugly, lined material. “But you need to know he loves you.”

“Stop—”

“He was shattered when you set him up on another date tonight. Seriouslycrushed.I won’t demand to know what the hell you two have going on in private, but I know what I know. He loves you, and you love him.”

“Ollie—”

“You’re both more stubborn than a couple of drunk mules. But I refuse to stand by and risk two broken hearts becausemaybeyou didn’t know how he felt. So here it is, Maggie. Now you know, and now I know you know. Billy Caster is an asshole. He lacks healthy communication skills and isterrifiedof admitting his feelings for fear of losing you the way he lost Aria. Those are his flaws, but we love him anyway. You’re insecure, unsure, and even when you straighten your spine and argue back, it’s never actually about real things, is it?”

“I…” I swipe the tears from beneath my eyes. “What?”

“This is a small town, and Barlespy isn’t that far away. If you think someone’s cousin didn’t already talk to someone else’s sibling, who talked to their friend, who happens to be Ramone’s sister, who then told Ramone about how they saw you wearing a cute little apron at the diner in the next town over, then I feel kinda sorry for you. I guess you forgot how strong the grapevines are around here.”

“You…” My jaw trembles. “Y-you know?” My eyes whip to the right, though there are two or three walls between me and Billy. “Does he?—”

“He doesn’t know, and just so you know, Ramone had a thing with one of the servers there a while back, andunlikeBilly, he’s not an asshole, so maintaining friendships with the women he’s bedded long after the sheets have cooled is totally his MO. Billy and Ramone tend to swing through Barlespy once or twice a week for work, but since you hadn’t mentioned Brienne’s diner to anyone around here yet, but you’re so loud about your love business, Ramone figured it might’ve been a sore spot, and he didn’t wanna make shit worse, so he found a new place with pretty servers and crappy coffee. But he’s waiting, Maggie. Waiting for you to own up to your shit and air it out already.”

“Own up towhat? That my business is a complete friggin’ failure? That my most successful eventeverwas the one at Alana’s bookstore, and that success had nothing to do with me, and everything to do with Alana and the girls? Or should I own up to the fact I survive on the tips from Brienne’s, slinging dishes at least five days a week in a whole other town,because I’m too embarrassed to sling dishes here, where everyone from my past would see me?”

“Everyone from your past already knows. Everyone except Billy.” He glances left. Right. Then as he brings his eyes back to mine, he shrugs. “I don’t see anything to be embarrassed about, though.”

“Says the freakin’ doctor! I’m not surprised you can’t relate.”

He scoffs. “All those people from your past? Tommy and Chris? They swallowed more bugs in their childhoods than they swallowed food, cos they were so fucking broke and abused, they had no other choice. Alana…” He shakes his head. “You don’t know bravery until you’ve watched her stand up to the people from her past,especiallywhen her private life was splashed on national television and the world found out who Franky’s sperm donor was. Rose turned up to town earlier this year and didn’t even know her name. No money, no belongings, nothing. She faced thepeople from your pastwith blindfolds on, and with that same blindfold on, she kicked ass and clawed her way out of hell. You think shelikesseeing that shitty little nursery on the outskirts of town, where the owner doesn’t know fuck all about what he’s selling, but overcharges for it, anyway? You think she hasn’t already built a business plan around that place, knowing she could do it a billion times better, but she’s too embarrassed to say anything, just in case she fails? She’s terrified to pour herself into her new idea, which would mean letting Troopy down when she’d inevitably have to quit, because what if it all goes to shit anyway?”

“But—”

“Alana’s bookstore consistently runs in the red, and Eliza compares herself to me and Raquel every damn day, like we’re superior because we went the medical route and sheonlybecame a fighter.” He scoffs. “That girl has more money than I will ever have, times a hundred. So that thing she’s insecure about? Looks like a gold mine from where I’m standing. Nobody gives a shit that you sling dishes, Maggie. No one except you. Sounds likeyoujudge—not us.”

“You want me to admit to the dogs I walk?” I whimper. “Or the groceries I sometimes deliver? Or the jewelry I found in my grandmother’s house and sold, because my Love Expert bullshit is exactly that:bullshit.”

“Fox’s actual job title is Chief Happiness Officer. Happiness.Happiness,” he drawls. “She made that shit up and convinced a Fortune 50 company to pay her a fortune for it. Should she be embarrassed?”

“No! Of course not.”

“What about my mom, then? Or yours? They poured coffee for a living,too. They slung dishes. Mine’s dead now, but should she be embarrassed for serving food for a paycheck?”

Fresh tears spill onto my cheeks. “No.”

“No one who matters would judge you, Maggie. And no one who judges you matters.” He points in Billy’s direction. “Meanwhile, he’s worrying himself half to death because you roll in at two in the morning most days of the week. Poor guy thinks you’re selling ass for a living.”

“He…” My heart slams painfully inside my chest. “What?”

“No one ever accused him of being a normal, level-headed, logical thinker. On the job? Yeah. But when it comes to the people he loves?” He shakes his head. “Not a chance. Dude thinks you have a soaring dating life, or an overfull diary with men’s names and appointment times listed in it. You’re breaking your own heart, Maggie, because you love him, too. And Jesus,” he huffs, “you love Jeremy. But love doesn’t judge, so tell him who you are. Stop expecting him to communicate at a level you yourself refuse to reach. Sit on the damn bed,” he grunts. “Give me time to finish up with Jeremy, then I’ll come back here and take care of your hand. You could probably even consider calling the girls while you’re waiting. They know you sling dishes too, dummy. They’ve known for weeks. But they don’t judge.”

He whips the curtain open and steps through, then closes it again and leaves me in here.

All alone with a fractured heart and leaking eyes.

And because the universe enjoys taunting me, my phone trills with an incoming call, so as I reach back and take the device out, only to spot my mom’s name on the screen, I exhale a defeated sigh.

AmIembarrassed for trying to make a business soar, knowing these things take time and picking up other jobs to make ends meet while I wait? Or is the voice pounding in the back of my mindhers? Becauseshewas embarrassed to sling dishes after my father died. Becauseshe’sbitter toward love, and furious that, despite her best efforts, she never again found what she had with my dad.