What Were You Expecting? Read Free Page A

fun. Especially right now.”
    She started giggling. “Thanks. Yer my bes’ friend. Know that?”
    He finally smiled at her, chuckling softly and shaking his head back and forth like she was making him tired. “I know.”
    He took her hand and dragged her limp arm over his shoulders, and then they started walking again.
    “Hey Paul.”
    Maggie looked up to see a blurry version of Nils Lindstrom approaching them from the front door of his office, which was just down the street from her café and apartment. Of all the bad luck. He was the last person she wanted to see.
    “Need a hand?”
    Maggie used all of her effort to turn her face from Nils to Paul. Paul nodded, looking relieved and tilting his head toward Maggie. “She started feeling tired and wanted to go home so we left, but I left my wallet at the bar. Can you take her the rest of the way home?”
    “Ummm,” said Maggie to no one in particular, staring at the pavement to steady herself. “I’m standin’ right here. I can take myself the rest of the way home.”
    “No problem. I’ll see to her. You go get your wallet.”
    “Yep,” she slurred. “Go get yer wallet, Nils.”
    “No, not him, me. I’m going to— Aw, forget it. She’s three sheets. Thanks, Nils. Night, Mags.”
    “’Night, Nils,” she murmured, listening to his retreating footsteps.
    Paul must have gone to work out somewhere for a few minutes, because when he gripped her waist again, his arm was stronger and bigger and he held her tighter than before, like even if she wanted to pull away from him, he wouldn’t let her now. Like he wouldn’t let her go.
    She stared at the pavement, watching her boots as they moved along.
    “Come on, Maggie May. Let’s get you home.”
    “Only Nils calls me Maggie May.”
    “Yep. That’s right.”
    “So, don’ call me that, Paul. You should know better.” Her words took a lot of effort, but she didn’t want to think about Nils Lindstrom, about the way it had felt to be pressed against his chest in the bar. “Since yer m’best friend, can I tell ye somethin’?”
    “Sure, anything.”
    “Y’ know Nils Lindstrom?”
    “Boy, you’re in rough shape,” said Paul, but he didn’t sound exactly like Paul, probably because he was so drunk. In fact, he sounded a lot like Nils Lindstrom, all low-toned and grouchy. Tricks. Tricky beer mind games. “Yeah, I know him.”
    “Well, I’m gonna let you in on a li’l secret, chum, and it’s—”
    “Maggie, I don’t think you should tell m—”
    “—this. We been circlin’ each other for four-ish years, and I’m a-tellin’ y’ true. That man needs to bed me or wed me, Paulie. Anythin’ else is puir wastin’ me time.”
    “Is that right?” Paul’s voice was deep and gravelly.
    “Tha’s right,” she said, resolutely, tripping over a seam in the sidewalk. Paul hauled her up against his side, his paw-like hand tight against her hip. Since when were Paul’s hands so massive? “Paul! The beer ate your hands an’ gave you bear hands.”
    “Whew. Careful, now.”
    They were almost at the Prairie Dawn. Almost home. Maggie looked up at the dark sky, littered with tears, and felt stars in her eyes.
    “I wish I dinna love him so well,” she whispered.
    Paul’s arm tightened around her as she whispered the words, but he didn’t say anything until they got to her door. “Maggie May, where’re your keys?”
    She was leaning up against the wall beside her back door, but she felt so heavy and wobbly, she started to lean forward. Suddenly a hand was pressed into her abdomen, keeping her upright against the wall and a moment later she heard the sound of a key twisting in a lock.
    “I hate it that you leave one under the mat. Anyone could…” Grouchy-voiced Paul kept talking about the unsafe practice of leaving keys under mats as she swayed and tried not to giggle at him. Then suddenly she was being carried up the flight of stairs to her apartment. The world swirled and her stomach