So she climbed out the window with no regard for how that could affect the baby. Even though I’m annoyed and concerned, truthfully, I’m a little impressed. Megan was much more dependent and probably would have never climbed out the window, even if it were her only option. And if she did, she would have asked me for help despite being mad at me.
I know she’s somewhere on the property; the only way out is through the front gate that can only be opened with a remote or a key, both of which are in my possession, so I know she’s around.
I go back through the house and leave out through the patio door. I scan the pool area, and luckily, she’s here, and I don’t have to go far. For a moment, I take her in and hope and pray it’s Megan when I approach her, but something tells me none of this is going to be that easy. I take in the back of her head, wanting to kiss the top of her head and inhale her scent as she leans back into me. Already I miss Megan like I’m never going to see her again.
Taking a deep breath, I ready myself before I make my way over to her.
She’s not sitting back in the chair- she’s perched on the edge, back straight, arms folded over her chest. As I get closer, my heart picks up its pace, and I have to will myself to calm down. No telling how she’s going to react, and I need to be ready for whatever may happen. I swallow my nerves, my eyes glued to her, and I can almost see the air around her drifting off of her in heat waves, like looking at the hood of a car in the summer.
Before I even make it to her, she speaks.
“If you’re not here to let me out, then I don’t want to see you,” she says harshly, not even looking back at me, but her voice alone is almost enough to make me turn around.
But my baby inside of her keeps me pushing forward.
“You and the baby both need to eat,” I tell her
“Fuck off.”
I bite down on my back teeth, trying to hold off on my rebuttal. No need for both of us to be pissed off.
“I made your favorite tea.”
At that, she turns around, a small smile on her face, even though she still looks angry.
She gets up, and I’m relieved she doesn’t looksofurious at the moment. She comes toward me, and even her walk is different from Megan’s. Alana’s hips move from side to side as she gracefully makes her way over to me. Her long, dark hair falls down her back, and as she comes over to me, I can’t help but stare at her. There’s more about her that contrasts with Megan besides her walk: the way she holds her shoulders back, how her nose stays in the air, and how her hair falls. Megan keeps a right side-bang that hides her beauty while Alana shows it off. She’s split her hair down the middle, and it’s tucked behind her ears. The biggest difference besides her attitude is the mischievous glint in her eyes and that devilish smirk on her face.
They’re like day and night.
Her eyes stay on the tray as she nears me, and then she focuses her shining gaze on me.
“You did this for me?” she asks, stunned.
Okay, not a bad reaction.
I can’t say I expected it, but it’s much more welcomed than what I anticipated. She actually seems like she’s happy I did something nice for her.
“Yeah,” I tell her. “You didn’t eat breakfast, and it’s almost noon. You need something to eat, and I thought the tea would help you calm down a bit.”
She squints and smirks at me, and I have no idea what to make of that expression.
She picks the cup up off the tray and takes a sip, then a grimace takes over her face.
“I know I’m not the best at making your tea how you like it, but I tried to mimic how I’ve seen Meg-”
I see her hand, but I don’t have time to move the tray. She knocks it from my grasp, and everything splatters on the ground between us. Before I can even say anything about her wasting food, scalding hot tea splashes my front, and I jump back as it burns through my shirt, which sticks to me. I grab it, trying to get it off my skin.
“What the hell is wrong with you, Meg-”
I look up just in time to see her swinging a hammer, and I lean backward, barely avoiding getting a hole in my skull. I continue backing away as I stare at her, her stance now wide and her hands down by her side as she breathes in and out, her eyes angry and piercing, her face red.
This has to be the equivalent of fucking bullfighting. I’m the matador, she’s the bull, and I’m going to get fucked up if I’m not strategic about this.
“I’M NOT MEGAN!” she yells before she charges me.
Everything slows down, and I realize if she’s not trying to kill me, she’s trying to severely injure me. I brace myself.
Once she’s close enough, she brings the hammer down on me, but I catch her by the wrist before it makes contact. I bring my other hand up to wrench the hammer from her grasp, and I feel her knee hit my thigh, missing its intended target. Thank fucking God.