"Why do you say that?" she asked curiously.
"He bought her Colts tickets for Hanukkah and she got him tickets to some concert. And when I teased him about her being his girlfriend he got fifty kinds of weird about it before throwing his controller at my head. Pretty much confirmed it for me."
Maggie pressed her lips together tightly, thinking back over her friend's behavior these last couple of months. Hindsight really was 20/20 because all of the little things added up and made perfect sense now.
Didn't lessen the hurt she felt from being kept in the dark though.
"Babe, please don't be mad at me. Big asked me not to say anything for a little while and it wasn't my place to tell."
Maggie nodded her head and expelled a heavy sigh. "I know," she said, leaving it at that for now.
After the last of the guests had gone home, Maggie put James on cleanup duty (a task he jumped to complete trying to get back into her good graces) and she opened the door to the guest bedroom to find Alisha curled into a ball on the bed facing the window; Adam stroked her hair and Russell paced the room trying to offer suggestions.
Russell stopped when he saw her enter the room and he motioned to Adam that they should leave. He paused in front of her. "I know you're mad, but go easy on her," he warned.
She was a little tired of everyone thinking she was some sort of monster. (Okay, she was a little intense at times, but it was out of love—honest)
Alisha sat up and faced her blonde friend, swallowing the lump in her throat. "Hi," she said hoarsely, swiping at the newly fallen tears.
Maggie sighed again and walked over to sit next to her on the bed. "I'm mad, you know," she said without malice.
"I know," Alisha nodded, picking at the blanket in her lap.
"You hurt my feelings, Alisha," Maggie said honestly, her eyes watering.
The brunette scrubbed her hands over her face and nodded as another wave of guilt washed through her. "I seem to be doing a lot of that today," she choked out before the sobs took over.
Brushing aside her own hurt feelings, she folded her arms around Alisha and let her cry.
"I'm sorry," Alisha sniffled as the crying jag came to a slow end.
"I know," Maggie murmured against her hair. "Tell me what happened."
So she did.
She told her everything—starting with the tambourine and the kiss in the snow all the way through to him walking away from her tonight. And when she was done, she felt like a huge weight had been lifted off her shoulders. (Though she still had the weight of an elephant on her chest over her fight with Big—and that fucking hurt so badly she could barely breathe.)
Once Alisha was finished, Maggie took a minute to let everything soak in before tipping Alisha's chin up until her eyes met hers. "You really like him," she said, more as a statement than a question.
"I do," Alisha said, nodding meekly.
Maggie answered her nod with one of her own. "Okay then. Let's figure out how to fix this."
"I love you, Maggie," Alisha told her sincerely, hugging her best friend.
"Love you, too, brat."
Big staggered up the stairs to his apartment (whiskey at the corner bar hadn't made him feel any better, in case you were wondering) and fumbled with the keys in the lock. As he struggled to see one row of locks instead of three, he was reminded of a better time when he had Alisha pressed between him and the door while he hurried to get the locks undone.
Fuck.
He walked into the apartment (finally) and slammed the door closed behind him. The TV was on (had he forgotten to turn it off?) and he took two steps before tripping over a suitcase he sure as shit didn't leave in the middle of the goddamn floor. "Ow! Motherfucker!" he swore heatedly.
Footsteps sounded across the floor and laughter soon followed.
"Hey, bro," she greeted casually, licking ice cream from her spoon.
Big lifted his bleary eyes into the amused face of his sister. "Sarah—what the fuck?"
"Surprise!" She extended a hand to help him up off the floor. (Hey, it was the least she could do seeing as he tripped over her suitcase that she'd forgotten to move—oops!) "Up you go, fat ass," she grunted.
"I hate you," he groused, pulling her into a hug once he was upright.
"Same goes," she grinned, patting his cheek and taking in the bloodshot eyes and the stench of whiskey. "Rough night?"
He flashed a murderous look that explicitly told her they were not talking about it. "What are you doing here?"
"I needed to get the hell out of New York for a while," Sarah informed him. "Guy trouble," she shrugged.
"Fair enough," Big grumbled, reminded of his own fucking problems. He scrubbed a hand over his face, "How the fuck did you get in here?"
Sarah shrugged carelessly, spooning another huge bite of ice cream into her mouth. "Boobs and tears."
Big rolled his eyes. "Jesus," he muttered. "Does Ma know you're here?"
"Sure," she said, not meeting his eyes.
"Goddammit, Sarah, I'm not in the mood for this shit right now. You're calling her tomorrow," he snapped. "I'm going to bed."
"Nice to see you, too, brother," she retorted sourly, wondering why he was being an even bigger asshole than usual.
Big crossed the apartment to his bedroom and kicked the door closed behind him.
He just wanted to forget this fucking day ever happened. (He didn't think there was enough whiskey in the world to accomplish that task though.) And now his sister (whom he loved, no really) was here running from God knows which loser boyfriend and—fuck—it made his brain hurt.
Stripping down to his boxers, he collapsed face down on his bed as his phone beeped with a new message. Groaning, he rolled over and saw Shorty on the ID.
He almost deleted it. (And almost
