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“O-o-kay,” I stuttered.
“Maggie, stop scaring the poor girl,” Doug chuckled, coming into the kitchen with a steaming mug of coffee.
“I haven’t been this emotional in a long time,” she explained, ripping off a paper towel and using it to dry her tears.
“It’s understandable,” Trace gently nudged me in the back so I’d stop standing in the doorway.
I willed my legs to move, since they were currently frozen, and took a seat at the oak kitchen table.
Margaret had made a simple breakfast of scrambled eggs and buttered toast. Maybe I was crazy, but I thought they were the best scrambled eggs I’d ever had because my grandma had made them.
My grandma.
I had a grandma.
And a grandpa.
An uncle.
Even a cousin.
I had a family.
Being close to my mom and Trace’s family, I hadn’t known I was missing out on anything, but I had been.
So many people took their family for granted, not realizing how lucky they were.
I had finished eating my breakfast when my cellphone began ringing.
I smiled bashfully and pushed away from the table. “I better take this. I’m sure it’s my mom.”
“No problem,” my grandma said as she gathered up the dirty dishes.
I unlocked door and stepped onto the front porch, sitting down on the steps before pulling out my phone.
I frowned at the caller ID. It wasn’t my mom, like I had expected. Instead, it was Avery.
“Hello?” I answered hesitantly.
“You bitch!” She shrieked venomously into the phone.
I startled at her tone. “What do you mean? What did I do?” I hesitantly brought the phone back to my ear, in case she had another outburst.
“You got married, that’s what! How could you get married without me, Olivia?” Her voice softened and I could tell that she was genuinely hurt.
“It sorta just happened,” I explained, squinting up at the blue sky and fluffy white clouds.
She snorted. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me and I had to find out from Trace’s mom this morning. She called me asking for my dress size. I, of course, said, ‘Why the fuck are you asking me for my dress size?’ She told me that y’all got married and are having a ceremony when you get back. She assumed I knew and that you’d asked me to be your maid of honor. All I can say is, after being so rudely left out the first time, I better be your fucking maid of honor.”
I pushed my hair out of my eyes, fighting laughter. “Of course I want you to be my maid of honor. And I’m sorry I didn’t call to tell you. I haven’t even told my mom,” I whispered the last part like it was still some kind of secret.
“She’s going to be pissed,” Avery stated in a matter of fact tone. “You better call her before Tracey-poo’s mom beats you to it. “
“Ugh,” I groaned, “I’ll call her when I hang up from you.” I chewed on my fingernail, already dreading that conversation.
“So,” Avery’s tone brightened, “I think, that as your maid of honor, you shouldn’t subject me to one of those hideous fluffy gowns that look like they’re the color of puke. I mean, I know it’s your wedding day…or whatever, but why should I have to look ugly?”
I laughed. “Avery, I would never make you wear an ugly dress. Besides, you’d probably slit my throat if I tried.”
