Page 2 of Maybe, Probably (Love Me, Maybe #1)

“I haven’t been happy for months !” He booms. I flinch back at the volume of his confession.

“I thought it was just a little moment, that things were too … I don’t know, comfortable or something.

” He roughly runs his hand through his hair, his shoulders stiff.

If we were in a cartoon you could see the frustration pluming off of him.

“But I can’t do this anymore. Last night kind of solidified it for me. ”

I stand there, my mouth agape in shock. It takes my brain a minute to register something Dalton said. “… last night solidified it?”

“Yes!” His tone becomes more agitated with each word.

“The way you always poke fun at how my parents are. How I was raised. Like they’re some stuck up snobs who would never give anyone below them the time of day!

” He starts to pace, and I just stand there.

I mean sure, I poke fun. But come on, his parents are a little stuck up…

okay, at least his mom is. “And then there’s whatever is going on between you and my mom.

” Aaand there it is. “I don’t understand why you two can’t just get along. She is just looking out for me.”

A laugh bursts out of my mouth. “You have got to be kidding me. Why can’t we just get along?

Where do you want me to start?” I scoff, waiving a hand through the air.

“The backhanded compliments I get about my body? The constant criticism she gives me, or how about the fact that half the time I don’t know whether she sees me as a human being or another person to do her bidding?

” I run my fingers through my hair in frustration.

“We’ve been together for eight years. Since we were sixteen, she has never liked me.

Not ever. I’ve taken years of her negativity and poor treatment of me.

I’ve acted like it doesn’t affect me, it does Dalton.

It doesn’t just slide off my back. It cracks my armor, and she makes me feel like I’m never going to be good enough for you! ”

I begin to think about the dinner last night with his parents. Just after they arrived, she threw her coat at me as she walked past, barely giving me a hello before heading into the kitchen.

Dalton comes through the patio door with the steaks and chicken on a platter.

His smile widens as he sees his parents.

“Mom, Dad, hey! Just give me a second to put this meat down, and I’ll grab you both a drink.

” He makes his way over to our farmhouse style dining table and places the cooked meat in the center of the set table.

“Oh, don’t be silly, my sweet boy. Harper can get us drinks.

I mean, she isn’t doing anything,” Judith croons to her son, while side eyeing me with disdain.

Jesus Christ this woman gets on my nerves.

Forcing a smile on my face I say, “Of course! A red wine for you, Judith? And bourbon for Keith, right?” I turn toward the bar cart, grabbing the wine glass and filling it with red before she answers.

I found this cute little antique shop last month, and when I saw the bar cart, I couldn’t say no. It was the perfect accent to our home.

“Oh Harper… you can’t have red wine with chicken breast. That’s a dreadful pairing… I’ll take a Chardonnay... you do have white wine, don’t you?”

My movements falter as I pour Keith’s bourbon.

My hand moves just enough to tap the full glass of red wine.

With my hands full, I can’t do anything more but watch it shatter, liquid splashing across the floor.

“Oh shit,” I mutter as I quickly grab the paper towels and begin cleaning the red wine that is now everywhere on the kitchen floor.

I manage to clean up all the liquid and all that’s left is glass.

I should probably give it a quick mop with the Swiffer after using the broom, just to catch any small pieces and we're good. As I walk through the kitchen, I feel the heat on my face creeping up my neck, and onto my face. Of course my clumsy ass would manage to make a huge mess at dinner with Dalton’s parents.

I grab the broom and the Swiffer and head back into the kitchen .

“I am so sorry, I’m such a klutz, just give me two seconds and it’ll all be cleaned up and I’ll get you your Chardonnay,” I say with as much bravado as I can muster.

Judith responds with a tsk noise. She might be the only person who would scold me over a flipping accident. “Don’t worry about it. Dalton has finished what you couldn’t complete.”

I’m brought back to the present as I notice my cheeks are damp. I quickly use the back of my hand to wipe away the tears that have so rudely escaped, while scolding myself for letting the tears fall.

“That right there.” His fingers point directly at me in accusation, “What you just said. That is one of the reasons I’m unhappy.

I just wish you guys could get along. How can I be with someone who can’t get along with my family?

They’re my family, Harper. They aren’t perfect, but they love me and want to see me happy.

” He sighs, walking toward me placing one hand on my cheek.

I back away utterly shocked. I don’t want him to touch me right now.

How can he touch me so affectionately while simultaneously smashing my heart to pieces with a sledgehammer?

“I really wanted this to work. I’ve been trying, but I just can’t do it anymore. ”

Heavy silence wraps around us, and it feels like we’re in a standoff. But in all reality? The fight is leaving my body, and a numbness is taking over. I can see in his body language where this is going to go. “Say it then.”

“It’s over. I’m going to stay with my parents until we work out the details of the house and getting my name off the lease. I’ll schedule a time next week for me to come and get the rest of my things.”

There isn’t anything I can do in this moment to change his mind.

“Okay.”

I’m standing in the kitchen with a bottle of wine and my largest wine glass sitting next to it.

My glass is full as I bring it to my lips, but the smell hits me and I scrunch my nose up in distaste.

This isn’t what I want. Staring off into oblivion, wondering when my life took this turn, and how the fuck I’m going to be single.

I haven’t been fucking single since I was sixteen.

Jesus Christ, what is dating life like? Ew, no.

I can’t even think about that. Fuck relationships. I’m just gonna do me.

I lose track of time as I sit in the quiet, flipping through every emotion.

When I snap out of it, I grumble a “fuck it.” I tip the glass back and chug the wine that I previously turned my nose up at.

My body recoils reactively to the drink.

The wine was definitely not what I wanted.

I go to the fridge, looking for the blackberry cider that I prefer.

Seeing that I still have a full six pack, I do an internal happy dance before grabbing it and storming for the patio.

Slamming the door behind me, I head toward the porch swing but stall.

Nope. I can’t sit there. Spinning on my heel, I walk down the stairs to sit by the fire pit.

The sky is starting to fade from day to early night; the blues turning into a mix of pinks, oranges and yellows as the sun begins its descent into the horizon.

The crisp wind blows around me, reminding me that fall is approaching.

I inhale the signature musty earth scent marking fall’s approach, and it starts to settle something deep inside me.

Things might be shit right now, but a fire in the crisp autumn night might be enough to fix it.

Quickly I set up the fire pit, layering the wood in a cabin like pattern before adding the kindling to the center.

Sticking my hand into my pocket I remove the lighter I grabbed earlier from the kitchen, bringing the open flame to the center.

I watch as the fire catches and the kindling begins to ignite.

The heat slowly washes over my body as it begins to build.

The wood crackles under the blaze of orange and white. The pungent odor of new fire bleeds into my senses as it stokes higher. I crack open my can of cider. The crisp flavor settles into my tastes buds as I sit back and try to enjoy the fire.

A couple hours have passed and I’m staring into the smoldering flames, going over tonight in my head for the billionth time.

“This is such bullshit,” I mutter to myself before bringing the can up to my lips.

I tip my head back to finish off what’s left of the cider.

Reaching down to grab another can, I realize that was the last one.

“Fuck… even more bullshit!” I mutter as I toss the empty onto the soft grass.

I’ll pick that up later. I can’t be bothered to do it now. I’m comfy and warm from the fire.

“Okay, what is bullshit? And I guess it’s a good thing I have these with me?” I startle at the noise and turn around to see my best friend in the entire world coming down the deck stairs, holding up two six packs of cider. I drunkenly smile at her.

“You’re my hero!” I slur. As I reach out for one of the pack, Evie stops and gives me a skeptical look while holding the cases back out of my reach. “Okay, what’s going on? Why are you drunk at.” she looks at her watch, “seven thirty p.m… and where is Dalton?”

I stare at her for a minute, wondering why my best friend is standing in front of me right now.

I snort, “Honestly, I forgot you were coming over.” Then, I make grabby hands at one of the cases of cider she is currently holding hostage from me.

I don’t drink like this. I like cider every once in a while, and the occasional glass of wine.

I never drink to get drunk. I've never really liked the lack of control that comes with being drunk. “Tonight is bullshit. Running out of cider was bullshit. Dalton’s mother is bullshit. And most importantly… Dalton is fucking bullshit.” I finish with a drunken sneer as I make another pathetic attempt to get a can of cider from my best friend's iron grip. I know I’m going to feel like complete shit in the morning.

But it’s not like I work tomorrow. And even if I did, I work from home, so I can look like a trash panda, and as long as I don’t have any video conferences, I’m golden. Perks of being a freelance book editor.

Fingers are snapped in front of my face, bringing me back to reality. Evie takes one good look at me and opens one of the cases. She proceeds to sit next to me. Looking over at me, she surveys me with caution. “Babes, are you okay? Why is Dalton bullshit?”

I look at her as tears begin to fill my eyes. “He left.” I choke the words out, my mouth going dry .

Evie’s eyes go wide, and she takes another big swig of the cider before replying.

“Well, fuck. ” She falls back into her seat and exhales slowly.

I can tell by the look on her face that definitely wasn’t the response she was expecting.

She was expecting me to tell her we had a stupid fight and now he’s out at the gym working out his frustrations.

“You’re going to have to start at the beginning and run it back to me.

Because what the fuck, man.” Evie sits up and bends her leg, allowing her body to face me.

She reaches out, offering me her hand for comfort, which I immediately take.

I lace our fingers together. Evie has been my rock since fourth grade.

Betty Rogers pushed me down during recess because I was taking too long to go up the ladder of the slide.

Evie went up to her and decked her right in the face.

From then on, we were inseparable. She’s heard about all my ups and downs.

All the fights I’ve had with Dalton over the last eight years.

She was there for me when my dad left my mom, and then when I didn’t hear from him until I was twenty and he needed money.

She is my ride or die, the person I’d call if I needed to hide a body.

I would take a bullet for her, as she would for me.

So it didn’t take me long at all to decide whether or not I’d tell her.

I look at our hands twined together before I take a deep breath and start from the beginning.