The Queen B* and the Homecoming King (13 page)

I chased after her. “Morgan, please, do you really think I’d stupidly want someone like Gavin?”

She turned around, her mouth hanging open. “Are you saying
I’m
stupid?”

“No, I said
I’d
be stupid to want him, although after what he tried last week, I think any self-respecting woman would be stupid to want
him.”

She clamped her mouth closed so tightly, her chin quivered. At first, I thought it was from rage, but as the seconds passed, I spotted tears glistening in her eyes. “Just leave me the fuck alone, Alexis.”

She ran back up the stairs, and the slamming of her door shook the crystal chandelier in the center of the foyer.

Morgan’s mom appeared a moment later. “I’m sorry, Alexis. I figured
if anyone could get through to her, it would be you, but…”

My shoulders sagged, although more from frustration than defeat. “I’ll keep working on her.” I felt really bad that a douchebag like Gavin had come between us, but if I could only get her to listen to my side of the story, maybe…

I glanced up the stairs one more time before I backed down. “Maybe she just needs a little more time to cool
down. I’ll try again later this week.”

“Mike and I are talking about forcing her to go to counseling, but we’re at a loss as to what for. All we know is that she hasn’t been acting like herself for several weeks now and it’s escalated since Monday.”

Which was saying a lot. Morgan had adopted her goth-girl persona at the beginning of high school to rebel against her parents. Every piercing, every
tattoo, every weird hair color was an act of defiance against the J. Crew-ness of her parents.

A few weeks ago would’ve been around the time she went on her date with Gavin, but Monday was when she found out about my ill-fated date with him. My stomach did a series of queasy flops. Something told me her behavior could have less to do with me and more to do with him.

I kept my mouth shut and
nodded, letting myself out the door like I’d done hundreds of times before. Only this time, it was because Morgan had ordered me to leave and not because I needed to go home.

On the drive back to my house, I considered every angle I could think of to explain why she wouldn’t talk to me, but I still couldn’t understand why she was being so stubborn. We’d had fights before, but they usually lasted
less than a day. I could see the reason behind her anger, but I still couldn’t figure out why she refused to even hear me out.

When I got home, there was a Tesla Model S sitting in the driveway, blocking my entrance to the garage. It was a car I’d seen before, but this was the first time it had been there in the daytime.

Pete’s car.

I just hoped I wouldn’t walk in on him and my mother fooling
around again. It had been awkward enough to catch them both naked on the couch. Now, knowing that my mom was pregnant by him added a whole new level of
ew!
to the situation.

The scene I walked in on today was a stark contrast to the prior encounter. For starters, they were both wearing clothes. My mom sat on a stool by the kitchen island, a mug of something warm cradled in her hands. Pete stood
behind her, his arms wrapped around her middle, his chin resting on the top of her head. It was kind of sweet and endearing, in an older person sort of way.

They both turned in my direction when I entered the kitchen, but Pete made no move to back away from my mom. It only confirmed what I’d feared from the moment Mom had admitted to dating him—that he was going to become a regular fixture in
our lives.

“Alexis, you’re home,” Mom said. She set her mug down and ran her arms over Pete’s before looking up at him adoringly. “I guess I should wake up Taylor.”

She slid off the stool and went upstairs, leaving me alone with Pete.

Neither one of us moved. Instead, we eyed each other with a mutual sense of wariness. I could see why my mom liked him. Pete was tall, muscular, attractive in
a middle-aged sort of way. The term
silver fox
came to mind when I looked at him. He was also a well-known plastic surgeon in the area, so I could add “rich and successful” to the mix of his positive attributes. And, I could begrudgingly admit, he seemed to be utterly devoted to my mom. The fact he was standing in our kitchen spoke to that, since she’d probably told him about the positive pregnancy
test by now.

But he still threatened to upset the balance of my home life, and for that reason, I couldn’t welcome him with open arms into our family. I’d already ripped him a new one at brunch a few weeks ago, and I was more than ready to repeat it for what he’d done to my mother.

He cleared his throat and shoved his hands into the pockets of his well-worn jeans. “I read about last night’s
game in the paper. Your mom told me the quarterback is a friend of yours. Tough win.”

I’d been so worried about Brett’s injury, I’d almost forgotten that Eastline had won the game on that play. “Yeah, Brett’s in surgery as we speak.”

“He is?” Pete stood a bit straighter, and I almost believed his concern. “How bad was his injury?”

“Bad enough for him to need surgery to fix it.” My mom returned
to the kitchen, and I decided to leave out the part where his bone was jutting out of his skin last night. She’d puked too much this week without me giving her the visual.

Mom sat back on the stool, and Pete resumed his lovey-dovey hold on her. “What were you two talking about?” she asked.

“Brett,” I replied, leaving it at that.

I was about to make a break for it when Taylor stumbled into
the room with a giant yawn. She climbed up onto the stool next to Mom and laid her head on the counter with one arm outstretched. “What’s so important that you woke me up this early?”

Mom looked to Pete, and my stomach dropped.

Then I caught the morning sunlight sparkling on the large diamond on her left hand.

Shit!

“Well, um, I don’t know how to begin this conversation,” Mom started. She
gave a nervous laugh before continuing, “Pete and I are getting married.”

Taylor lifted her head, her face slack with shock. “Get. Out.”

Mom giggled again and nestled even closer to Pete, the joyful expression on her face a stark contrast to the worried one she’d worn after she’d gotten the positive pregnancy test. “We’re planning on a December wedding, and we wanted you girls to be the first
to know.”

Taylor was still slack-jawed with surprise, but my mind was already reeling from the implications. If they were getting married, then what would happen after that? Would he move into our home? Would we have to move to his home? And if we did, did that mean we’d have to change schools? And I couldn’t forget the little screaming bundle of joy who’d keep us all up at night.

Like a chain
of dominos, my fears fell one on top of the other until a vicious retort sprang from my tongue. “You know, an unplanned pregnancy is a stupid reason to rush into marriage.”

The happy grin fell from my mother’s face, and the pink glow vanished from her cheeks. “Alexis, how—”

My voice was hard, sharp, accusing. “I found the positive pregnancy test after you left, and seriously, let’s talk about
what a hypocrite you are, pushing us to be on the pill and practice safe sex when you obviously didn’t.”

Guilt and sadness and shame all washed over Mom’s face, and I knew I should’ve stopped there, but I’d had such a shitty morning so far, I kept going, if only to vent my frustrations.

“And let’s talk about the odds of you actually having this baby when it’s due. I mean, after all, you’re
forty-four—not exactly a spring chicken. You’re just asking to have some kind of complication by having a baby when you’re this old.”

I expected Mom to say something to shut me up, but it was Pete who cut me off. “That’s enough, Alexis. Can’t you see you’re upsetting your mother when you should be happy for her?”

“Happy for her?” I shot back, my voice rising. “For getting knocked up and feeling
like she has no other option but to marry you?”

“That’s enough,” Pete repeated with a steely glare. For a guy who’d never been married, he had a definite disciplinarian edge to him.

“Fine, but forgive me for not being thrilled about your wonderful news. I’ll just go up to my room, play the part of the moody teenager, and revel in the craptastic day I’m having. Thanks for being the icing on the
cake, Pete.” I nearly spat his name as I turned around and went upstairs, taking a note from Morgan’s behavior and slamming the door to my room as hard as I could.

Chapter Eleven

I plopped facedown onto my bed and muffled my scream of frustration with the mattress. I couldn’t even…

ARGH!

This day could not get any worse.

I needed someone I could vent to, but Brett was in surgery, Morgan still hated my guts, and Richard wouldn’t rise before noon on a Saturday, especially since he’d claim to need his beauty sleep before his big date tonight. That left
only one person.

My dad.

I jumped up from my bed and booted up my computer. A minute later, my dad’s face filled the screen as he answered my Skype call.

“Hey, princess,” he began before taking a look at my face. “Oh…”

“That obvious?” I asked, sinking down into my desk chair and propping my chin on my closed fist.

“Who pissed you off now?”

I loved that my dad could read me like a book.
Outside of my little circle of friends, he was the only person who really got me. “Can I move in with you?”

“What did you and your mom fight over this time?”

I’d never asked to move in with him before. Sure, I’d spent a few weeks every summer with him, but we were usually on the road camping or going to concerts or hiking the Appalachian Trail. I think I’d stayed a total of ten nights in his
actual home over the years, but I remembered it was cute. My dad was a philosophy professor at a small liberal-arts school in Vermont, and his home was a turn of the century cottage covered with ivy.

“Please, Dad?”

He ran his hand over his salt-and-pepper beard. “You only have a few months until graduation, princess. Can’t you tough it out?”

Translation: Dad thought having me around would ruin
his chances of banging his students.

I rolled my eyes. “Never mind, Dad. Sorry I bothered you.”

I went to click the close button and end the call, but he stopped me with a frantic, “No, no, no. If you’re considering moving across the country in the middle of your senior year, something must have upset you, so let’s talk.”

I let go of the mouse and stared at the ceiling. “I don’t even know
where to start.”

“Does this have anything to do with that frat party last weekend?”

I snapped my attention back to the screen. “How did you know about that?”

“Your mother told me.”

“Wait a minute—you two still talk?” My parents divorced when I was five, probably because my mom caught him in bed with one of his grad assistants. He moved across the country, and that was the only reason their
split had remained somewhat amicable.

“Yes, we still talk. Or rather, we email.”

Which would explain why the communication had lasted this long.

I didn’t miss the hint of sarcasm that crept into his voice as he continued, “Your mother sends me weekly updates on you and your sister and encourages me to set a good example when I talk to you.”

“So since you heard all about the frat party from
her, you should know the biggest consequence of that night is the fact Morgan isn’t speaking to me now.”

“Because some guy got you drunk and tried to rape you?” Dad drew his bushy eyebrows together. “That doesn’t sound like her.”

“It was the guy who caused the rift. Morgan had this crush on him last month, but after she went on a blah date with him, she lost interest and said she was moving
on. Meanwhile, he’d been hitting on me the whole time she was crushing on him, and when I needed a guy to make Brett jealous—”

“Brett?” Dad asked, interrupting me. “Isn’t that the guy you’ve been ‘crushing’ on?” He made air quotes when he said the term, and I fought the urge to roll my eyes at his attempt to sound hip.

“Yes, Dad, and I’ll get to him in a minute. But I only agreed to go to the
party with him because I knew it would make Brett jealous. I had no interest in him, and Brett ended up beating the crap out of him, and the next thing I know—
bam!
—Morgan’s taking his side.”

“Whose side? Brett’s?”

“No, Gavin’s. Try to keep up, Dad.”

“Who’s Gavin?”

I was about to give my dad an eye roll when I realized I’d never referred to the douchebag by name. I took a deep breath and slowed
down so my dad could follow. “Gavin is the guy Morgan liked. She said she was done with him, but apparently, she ran into him and believed his account of the party, ending with my boyfriend beating him up. She didn’t even try to hear the reason why. She just believed the douche and called me a backstabbing slut.”

Dad scratched his chin. “Sounds like there’s more to this story than just that.”