Maddox: That’s the last fucking time I tell you something like that.

Footsteps sound down the hall and I lift my gaze from my phone to spot Kinsley, fresh from her shower, ready for work.

“How are you feeling?” I ask her, knowing she was up late last night battling cramps. She smelled like peppermint oil after she went to the bathroom at two in the morning. She said it helps. I took her word for it and pulled her in even closer.

“Okay,” she says, walking slowly and then pausing halfway down the hall and holding on to the wall. She winces, takes a deep breath, and then keeps moving.

Concerned, I set my mug down and go to her. “Babe, are you sure? You don’t look good.”

“Fine. I just need to walk.”

“Uh, it looks like you can barely walk right now. Do you really think you’re going to walk to work?”

She nods and gets Herman ready. “Exercise helps the cramps. Once I get moving, it will be better.”

“I can be ready in five. I can drive you.”

Shaking her head, she says, “No. I’ll walk.”

I study her and grip the back of my neck as I say, “You’re not trying to avoid me after last night, are you?”

“No. I promise.” She grips Herman’s leash but moves over to me where she rests her hand on my chest and kisses the bottom of my jaw. “Your birthday is coming up. What do you want to do?”

Still feeling like there’s a slight disconnect, I try to shake it off when I say, “Nothing big. I just want to hang with you . . . and Herman I guess.”

“There needs to be a celebration. We need to have a party, or at least go out.”

“No party.” I shake my head. “Just you and me, Kin.”

She pouts and tugs on my waistband. “You just want to cash in on birthday sex.”

“I mean . . . I’m not going to be mad about it,” I answer on a smile, feeling a little relief from the teasing tone in her voice.

“We’ll see.” She lifts up on her toes and gives me another kiss, but not on my lips. “Good luck tonight.”

She starts to take off when I stop her at the door, my hand pressed against the wood. “Wait.” I feel desperate, like I need to say something about last night, because even though I can sense a lighter tone in her mood, there’s an awkward breath between us. “I’m . . . I’m sorry, Kinsley . . . about last night.”

She lifts up and pats my cheek. “We’re good, Maddox. See you tonight.”

On that, she takes off out the door with Herman, leaving me to think that we’re really not good. I know her, I know when she’s upset or something is bothering her, and Kinsley just left with a weight of worry on her shoulders.

“Fuck,” I mutter, pulling on my hair. I stare off at the door for a few seconds before moving to the bedroom. She’s upset, disappointed, not entirely happy with me, if she was, she would have at least kissed me on the lips. She’s not one to intentionally be malicious or resentful, as she tries to love with all of her heart. Subconsciously, I know she’s upset and is showing it with her distance.

I head back to the bedroom where I sit on the edge of the bed and stare down at the nightstand.

All of this over a stupid wedding invitation.

Slowly, I reach to the drawer pull and ease it out just enough for me to be able to grab the navy-blue envelope that started this rift between me and my girl.

The handwriting is familiar, sending a bolt of anger straight through my veins, pulling and tugging on them, like lightning slashing through me. Jaw clenched, I open the back and pull out the invitation. Random cards fall to the ground, but I don’t bother to pick them up because I have no intention of RSVPing.

Taking a deep breath, I flip over the ivory and navy-blue card and focus in on the cursive print that’s almost too difficult to read.

But despite the loopy cursive, there is something I can read clear as day . . .

You are cordially invited to the wedding of Manny Paige and Jamie Woodard.

Chapter Eighteen

KINSLEY

“Kinsley, are you okay?”

I shut the door to the bathroom and hold my stomach for a few beats before nodding. “Good.” But not really, it feels like my uterus has decided to create a battle zone for my ovaries to duke it out, to see which one is the best egg producer.

Marcy studies me, disbelief in her face. Slowly she crosses her arms and says, “You just threw up again, didn’t you?”

I tried to keep it down, but Lord knows, these walls are thin.

“It’s fine.” I press my hand to my chest, taking a deep breath. “I’m fine. Happens every month. It will be okay. But do you mind if I sit down for a second? I’ll help with the kennels in a few, just need to catch my breath.”

“You need to go home.”

I shake my head—slowly. “We’re short on volunteers today. It’s fine, I just need—”

The door whooshes open and Marcy and I both look toward the entrance where a tall figure with broad shoulders stands. I don’t have to connect with the face to know exactly who it is, holding a box of chocolate.

Oh my heart.

Last night wasn’t exactly what I had envisioned. I thought maybe we could cuddle and talk about whatever, but instead, Maddox shut down on me, for the first time since I can remember. He didn’t just shut me down, but he refused to even speak of what happened with him and Manny. To say I was surprised is an understatement. I was caught off guard, insulted, and disappointed. I thought going into this relationship we weren’t going to hold anything back, that we were going to be open and honest, just like our friendship—at least what I thought our friendship was. And yes, I’ll get over it, the fact that he doesn’t want to tell me, but it’s not going to be the same with him. I feel like there will always be this wall around us, probably until he’s willing to completely open up with me.

The not bitter side of me knows he’ll share at some point, that he won’t be able to keep it in forever and I need to be patient. But the bitter side of me wishes he trusted me enough to tell me now. The bitter side of me also stays focused on all the changes I’ve made to his life. He didn’t say he loved it, but that he’s put up with it. Maybe like he puts up with me?

“Hi, Marcy,” Maddox says, walking up to her and giving her a quick hug. I watch Marcy’s entire face light up just as another wave of cramps hits me harder than the last. My empty stomach rolls and I take a deep breath, steadying myself against the wall.

Maddox’s eyes narrow as he quickly comes up to me. He brushes his hand over my clammy forehead, and I’m sure I look like hell with a lack of color in my face. “Kinsley, what’s going on?”

Marcy drops her heart eyes for a second and says, “She’s been throwing up all morning, very nauseas from her cramps.”

“Kinsley,” Maddox growls and takes me by the hand, guiding me to a chair where I bend over and take a few deep breaths, trying to work through the pain. “I told you, you didn’t look good this morning.” His large hand goes to my back as he bends down to look me in the eye. “What can I do?”

“Nothing,” I say just as Marcy steps in.

“Take her home. She needs some rest, some fluids, and some pain medicine.”

I shake my head. “I don’t take medicine.”

“Sweetie”—Marcy lowers so we’re eye to eye—“I understand your holistic approach to life, but sometimes, our bodies need a little more help. You need to realize that.”

“But . . . the kennels.”

“I’ll take care of it,” Maddox says.

“You need to take care of her,” Marcy counters. “I can handle them.”

Maddox stands and says, “I know some kids who can come in and help, part of a community service program. They’re pretty awesome. I’ll give their group a call.”

“Maddox, that would be wonderful. Thank you.”

“Of course.” Maddox bends down again and speaks softly. “Can you stand? Or do you want me to carry you?”

I shake my head quickly. “I can walk, just grab Herman.”

It feels like a dizzy wave of motions as we gather my things, Herman, and make our way out to Maddox’s car where he helps buckle me in, as well as Herman. The car ride back to the apartment is silent, but what doesn’t change is Maddox’s grip on my thigh, the concern etched in his brow, and his inability to stop checking on me.

The walk back up to the apartment feels like a mile, but once we make it, Maddox curls me up into his chest and carries me down the hall to our bedroom where he lays me in bed. He moves around the room, bringing me peppermint oil, a trashcan, heating pad, and then finally some toast with peanut butter and some pain medicine.

It takes me a while to be able to fill my stomach, but once I do, I take the pain medication and then rest my head on the pillow, curling into the heating pad and wishing for this day to be over. The cramps never last the full extent of my period, nor do I bleed very long either, just the first two days. And they’re not always this bad. Seems to come in waves.