Page 45
He walks toward it and pauses for the slightest second, as though he might speak again, but heaving a sigh, he nods and carries on going without another word.
But if I thought Megan’s arrival at the bar was bad, I was in for a rude awakening. Nothing could have prepared me for the next couple of days, and I very quickly develop a newfound gratitude for the people of Maple Springs.
The first rumor trickles through Jimmy when I go for our usual take-out lunch.
“Don’t worry, Emma, we’ve got your back,” he says to me when he hands over the wrapped packages.
I frown at him, wondering what on Earth he’s talking about.
He then looks worried. “You haven’t heard?”
Shrugging, I say, “Heard what?”
Jimmy then hesitates, clearly doubting whether he should continue or not.
“Tell me?” I press.
“That ex of Ryan’s has been trying to cause trouble. She’s been going around town dropping snarky little remarks about you and Ryan, but Ryan mostly.”
Even though I knew her arrival was going to bring nothing good, I am still astonished.
“What has she said?”
Again, Jimmy looks reticent.
“If I don’t hear it from you, I’m going to hear it from someone else, Jimmy,” I point out.
“Fine.”
I then learn that Megan has tried to tell anyone who would listen that it was actually Ryan who had cheated on her, and that he was going to do exactly the same to me as he had done to her. And so, if they cared for me at all, they would warn me and get me to end the relationship we have.
As it happens, everyone I speak to in our little town over the following days all has the same or similar reactions.
“That woman is nothing but trouble,” Mrs. Thompson says when I meet her in the grocery store.
Mrs. Thompson is considered a national treasure in our little town, and I can’t remember the last time I heard a bad word fall from her lips, but she has nothing good to say about Megan Whitmore.
“She came in pretending she wanted coffee, but I had her number the minute she started speaking about you and Ryan,” the older lady says, nodding knowingly as we stand in the cereal aisle. “As if Ryan would ever run off with another woman. What does she take me for? A fool? Well, I told her the likes of her were not welcome here, and that she could take her stories elsewhere.”
“Good for you, Mrs. Thompson.” I smile warmly at her and then thank her.
I hear similar stories from other townsfolk Megan tried to speak to: Mr. Calder at the gas station, Jenny at the bakery, and of course, Jimmy.
“She tried to stir the pot, Emma. We all knew what she was trying to do,” he says. “But don’t you worry. We’ll always have your back.”
Clearly, Ryan and I have put on such a great show that everyone in Maple Springs is more invested in our future thanwe are. Everyone, in one way or another, has told Megan to take her stories back to wherever she came from. I’ll admit, it does make me feel guilty, given the fact that we are lying to everybody.
“She’s gone,” Ryan says a few days later when he arrives at the clinic.
“Who?” I say, pretending I don’t know who he’s talking about.
“Megan,” he says, looking at me like I can’t possibly be that unaware.
“Oh,” I say, pretending like I don’t care.
“Aren’t you happy to hear that?”
“Sure.” I shrug. “I suppose.”
But if I thought Megan’s arrival at the bar was bad, I was in for a rude awakening. Nothing could have prepared me for the next couple of days, and I very quickly develop a newfound gratitude for the people of Maple Springs.
The first rumor trickles through Jimmy when I go for our usual take-out lunch.
“Don’t worry, Emma, we’ve got your back,” he says to me when he hands over the wrapped packages.
I frown at him, wondering what on Earth he’s talking about.
He then looks worried. “You haven’t heard?”
Shrugging, I say, “Heard what?”
Jimmy then hesitates, clearly doubting whether he should continue or not.
“Tell me?” I press.
“That ex of Ryan’s has been trying to cause trouble. She’s been going around town dropping snarky little remarks about you and Ryan, but Ryan mostly.”
Even though I knew her arrival was going to bring nothing good, I am still astonished.
“What has she said?”
Again, Jimmy looks reticent.
“If I don’t hear it from you, I’m going to hear it from someone else, Jimmy,” I point out.
“Fine.”
I then learn that Megan has tried to tell anyone who would listen that it was actually Ryan who had cheated on her, and that he was going to do exactly the same to me as he had done to her. And so, if they cared for me at all, they would warn me and get me to end the relationship we have.
As it happens, everyone I speak to in our little town over the following days all has the same or similar reactions.
“That woman is nothing but trouble,” Mrs. Thompson says when I meet her in the grocery store.
Mrs. Thompson is considered a national treasure in our little town, and I can’t remember the last time I heard a bad word fall from her lips, but she has nothing good to say about Megan Whitmore.
“She came in pretending she wanted coffee, but I had her number the minute she started speaking about you and Ryan,” the older lady says, nodding knowingly as we stand in the cereal aisle. “As if Ryan would ever run off with another woman. What does she take me for? A fool? Well, I told her the likes of her were not welcome here, and that she could take her stories elsewhere.”
“Good for you, Mrs. Thompson.” I smile warmly at her and then thank her.
I hear similar stories from other townsfolk Megan tried to speak to: Mr. Calder at the gas station, Jenny at the bakery, and of course, Jimmy.
“She tried to stir the pot, Emma. We all knew what she was trying to do,” he says. “But don’t you worry. We’ll always have your back.”
Clearly, Ryan and I have put on such a great show that everyone in Maple Springs is more invested in our future thanwe are. Everyone, in one way or another, has told Megan to take her stories back to wherever she came from. I’ll admit, it does make me feel guilty, given the fact that we are lying to everybody.
“She’s gone,” Ryan says a few days later when he arrives at the clinic.
“Who?” I say, pretending I don’t know who he’s talking about.
“Megan,” he says, looking at me like I can’t possibly be that unaware.
“Oh,” I say, pretending like I don’t care.
“Aren’t you happy to hear that?”
“Sure.” I shrug. “I suppose.”
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