Maybe Someday (Maybe #1)(60)

“Hey, Warren,” I say, grinning when I see him on the couch. “Happy Birthday.” Bridgette is seated next to him, glaring at me. She’s looking me up and down, probably jealous because my bra really is cute.

Warren shakes his head and laughs. “That’s only the fiftieth time you’ve said that tonight, although it’s a little more fitting now that you’re practically in your birthday suit.”

Ridge is sitting on the other side of Bridgette. He’s shaking his head like Warren. “Maggie wants to know if you like my bra,” I say to Ridge. I pull on Maggie’s hand so she’ll turn around and sign to him.

“It’s a very nice bra,” Ridge says, staring at it with a cocked eyebrow.

I smile. Then I frown.

Did he just . . .? I yank my hand out of Maggie’s and turn back toward Ridge. “Did you just speak?”

He laughs. “Did you not just ask me a question?”

I glare at him hard, especially when Warren bursts out into a fit of laughter.

Oh.

My.

God.

He’s not deaf?

This whole time, he’s been lying to me? It’s been a prank?

I instantly want to strangle him. Both of them. Tears sting at my eyes, and the second I lunge forward, a strong hand grips my wrist and yanks my arm back. I turn and look up at . . . Ridge?

I turn back to the couch and look at . . . Ridge?

Warren is doubled over Bridgette’s lap now, he’s laughing so hard. Ridge Number 1 is laughing now, too. His whole face doesn’t laugh when he laughs, like Ridge Number 2’s face does.

And his hair is shorter than Ridge Number 2’s hair. And darker.

Ridge Number 2 has his arm wrapped around my waist, and he’s picking me up.

Now I’m upside down.

Not good for my stomach.

My face is toward his back, and my stomach is slumped over his shoulder as he carries me back toward my bedroom. I look at Warren and the guy I now realize is Brennan, and then I squeeze my eyes shut, because I think I’m about to throw up all over Ridge Number 2.

I’m being seated on something cold. A floor.

As soon as my mind comprehends where he’s put me, my hands reach forward until I grasp the toilet, and then it suddenly feels as if I’ve eaten Italian food all over again. He holds my hair back while the toilet fills with Pine-Sol.

I wish it really were Pine-Sol. I wouldn’t have to clean it.

“Don’t you love her bra?” Maggie says from behind me, giggling. “I know it’s a back clasp, but look at how cute the straps are!”

I feel a hand on one of my bra straps. I can feel Ridge pull her hand away. His arm moves, and I know he’s signing something.

Maggie huffs. “I don’t want to go to bed yet.”

He signs something else, and then she sighs and walks into his bedroom.

When I’m finished, Ridge wipes my face with a rag. I allow my back to fall against the wall of the tub, and I look up at him.

He doesn’t look very happy. In fact, he looks a little angry.

“It’s a party, Ridge,” I mumble, and close my eyes again.

His hands are under my arms, and I’m being carried again. He makes his way into . . . his room? He lowers me onto his bed, and I roll over and open my eyes. Maggie is grinning at me from the pillow next to me.

“Yay. A sleepover,” she says with a groggy smile. She grabs my hand and holds it.

“Yay,” I say, smiling.

Covers are pulled over both of us, and I close my eyes.





Ridge

“How did you get yourself into this mess?”

Warren and I are both standing at the edge of my bed, staring down at Maggie and Sydney. They’re asleep. Sydney is spooning Maggie on the left side of the bed, because the right side of the bed is now covered in Maggie’s puke.

I sigh. “This has been the longest twelve hours of my life.”

Warren nods, then pats me heavily on the back. “Well,” he signs, “I wish I could stay and help you nurse them back to health, but I’d rather pretend I have something better to do and leave.” He turns and walks out of my room as Brennan makes his way in.

“I’m headed out,” he signs. “Got my stuff out of Sydney’s room.”

I nod and watch as his eyes fall on Sydney and Maggie.

“I wish I could say it was fun getting to know Sydney, but I have a feeling I didn’t even meet the real Sydney.”

I laugh. “Believe me, you didn’t. Maybe next time.”

He waves and walks out of my bedroom.

I turn and look at them, at both halves of my heart, cuddled tightly together in a bed of irony.

? ? ?

I spent the entire morning assisting them as they alternated between the trash can and the bathroom. By lunch, Sydney’s vomiting had subsided, and she made her way back to her own room. It’s late afternoon now, and I’m spoon-feeding Maggie liquids and forcing her to down medicine.

“I just need sleep,” she signs. “I’ll be fine.” She rolls over and pulls the covers up to her chin.

I tuck a lock of hair behind her ear, then run my hand down to her shoulder, where I trace circles with my thumb. Her eyes are now closed, and she’s curled up in a fetal position. She looks so fragile right now, and I wish I could wrap myself around her like a cocoon and shield her from every single thing this world has left to throw at her.