Page 155 of Wingwoman
Maggie shrugged, avoiding my gaze as she shook the nail polish bottle. “We’ll see.”
“I’m just saying, don’t feel like you have to stay miserable and alone just because I am.”
She tilted her head, regarding me quietly. “You could try again with Josh, too, you know.”
“I put it all out there. He made his choice. But this thing with Matt?” I gestured to her buzzing phone. “He’s really trying to make it up to you.”
Her mouth twitched. “He is, isn’t he?”
“How long are you going to punish him?”
She gave me an impish smile. “Maybe a few more hours.”
The knock at my dad’s condo door caught us both by surprise.
Who the hell was knocking at the door at nine p.m. on a Wednesday night?
Maggie was literally the only person who ever surprised me these days.
Julianne, Maryanne, and Raeanne all knew the basics of what happened between me and Josh… or at least they knew it ended… so they were giving me space. Thank god. As much as I had come to accept my dad’s impending nuptials, going to a wedding when you were broken-hearted was the absolute worst.
I sighed, standing up from the couch. Whoever was out there was about to find me wrapped in a terry cloth robe, half a bottle of wine deep, a mud mask on my face, and wet polish on my toenails.
I paused the serial killer documentary, then peeked out the peephole… but there was nothing but black.
Someone was covering the peephole.
Under normal circumstances, this might not have been alarming. But after watching Matt call Maggie obsessively and one hour into a serial killer documentary, my senses were heightened.
I reached for the closest heavy thing beside me… one of my dad’s golf umbrellas.
It wasn’t exactly a major weapon, but the heavy wood handle would do in a pinch.
“Who’s out there? I’m armed with a deadly weapon!”
Maggie whipped her head around to look at me wielding the umbrella.
“Deadly?” she whispered.
“Texas is a gun-state!” I whisper-yelled back to her. “They don’t know what I’m packing here!”
“Oh mygod, you’re so dramatic.” Carrow’s voice came from the other side of the door.
“Just open up!” Maxie said next. “We know you’re in there holding a frying pan or something equally stupid.”
“Carrow? Maxie?!” I flung the door open. “You’re not supposed to get in until tomorr–OH!”
When I opened the door, I wasn’t only met with my two best friends.
Three men and a woman jumped from the bushes beside the condo, all yelling, “Surprise!”
I screamed.
Screamed literal bloody murder while taking a swing with the umbrella at the beefiest, most muscular man reaching out toward me, clocking him right in the temple.
“Hope! Hope! It’s us! It’s your siblings!”
Panicked and panting and holding the umbrella like a baseball bat, I took in the scene before me.
