Cheshire | Sequel to Home

Chapter 16: Mrs. Styles

Present

"So, out of the blue, she asks me where I was born. Like, we were having a genuine argument, I was being the actual queen of passive-aggressiveness, and all of a sudden she comes up with that?!" Amy vigorously explains from the other side of the line and I can almost see her gesticulating, "Anyhow, I tell her I'm from Manhattan and she's like 'my best friend's favorite cocktail was a Manhattan'."

I stop folding Archie's cardigan and frown as I ask, "What the hell?!"

"Right?! And I'm standing there thinking 'who cares?' and then she says 'she's dead'," Amy utters while imitating the other woman's voice and I can only gasp in response.  My friend sighs deeply and I know she's shaking her head in defeat when she states, "I can't be badass if people are gonna bring up dead friends, Liv. I just can't."

I chuckle weakly as I put the phone on speaker on top of the chest of drawers in front of me to continue folding clothes, my attention slightly drifting. Apparently, this is all it takes for Amy to lose her patience because she sounds definitely exasperated while asking, "Okay, what is it?"

"What?" I murmur. I heard the question but I'm well aware that I'm just buying time to come up with a believable excuse. I mentally scold myself for not thinking of a standard answer by now. 

I hear Amy on the other side of the line huffing loudly in annoyance before once again, "What is wrong?"

"With what?" I know by now I'm buying a ticket to hell by being so evasive.

Amy huffs loudly and it's easy to picture her shutting her eyes tightly, nostrils flaring. "What is wrong?" She repeats.

"Wrong about what?" I continue to play dumb and I'm certain at this point that I'm seconds away from seeing hell unfold before my eyes.

A brief silence takes place before Amy heartily asks, "Liv, are you kidding me?"

" I promise I'm not, I just can't see anything wrong with me," I lie and try to bring my attention back to packing Archie's bag, I feel I can sound genuinely distracted this way. Harry left early this morning not before instructing me to pack our bags for the weekend. No further explanation.

"Olivia, come on! We haven't seen each other in...what? Over a month? I ran into Alex the other day and he told me you've been in London but you didn't mention it and you hardly ever message me or call me anymore," she argues before asking, "are you still mad at me because of what I said that last time?"

I wince remembering the argument we had in her house, the untimely words we said, "I'm not," I assure.

"Then what is it? Are things with Harry not improving?" She sounds desperate to know what is keeping me away from her.

So decide to give her something, "We are actually better, we talked and decided to give it a real try," I tell her, avoiding the real reason why we had that conversation.

"Mhmm," she hums and I swear I can hear the machinery inside her brain spinning faster than usual, joining the dots and possibly coming up with the real answer I'm determined to hide. It feels as if her synapse process had become suddenly palpable.

"So how are things over there? Have we decided what we are getting J for her birthday?" I hurry to say, stumbling over clumsy words.

I feel my house of cards falling as she guffaws, "Ha! That's it!  You're pregnant!" She yells matter-of-factly.

"What?" I question almost automatically, unable to give a proper answer. How could she have figured it out?  

"Oh, my God! You are so pregnant it's so obvious how could I have missed it!" Amy continues to say, gloating in her unexpected victory.