I sighed, trying to be calm and rational.Madison, I didn’t realize you were planning to come over. Maybe there was a miscommunication?
Three dots immediately popped up.
I was just trying to be helpful. I’m worried about the baby’s health. Burgers, hot wings, grilled cheese, fries, quesadillas, and milkshakes are not good for you OR for our baby.
A surge of heat shot through me.OUR baby?I thought.
How dare she judge me and act like every decision I made was her business? Ellie was right—we clearly needed boundaries.
But how the hell was I supposed to set those boundaries? I couldn’t exactly tell her to fuck off as she was buying me gifts and healthy groceries, could I? Even if I didn’t like the tone she was taking.
I took a deep breath and started tapping out a text, then backspaced, then tried again.
The groceries are very nice. Thank you. I’ll definitely take a look at the recipes you sent.
Hopefully that would do the trick—diplomatic, but noncommittal. I refused to let her dictate my diet.
After a moment, her response popped in.Thank you. When is the 12-week doctor appt?
I rolled my eyes, then replied.I haven’t scheduled it yet.
Well, don’t forget to let us know. Good night, Savannah!!
I refrained from replying and went back to putting the groceries away. Despite my irritation, I had to admit, it was kind of nice to see my fridge full of fresh food, instead of just takeout leftovers. As off-putting as Madison could be, she was probably right about my nutrition—maybe it was time for me to start making more of an effort to cook at home. It was healthier and certainly cheaper. Sure, Madison’s delivery had been an ill-timed surprise, but maybe she wasn’t completely wrong.
I was in the middle of filling one of the crisper drawers with the onions and tomatoes when something hit me.
Other than my evenings with Ellie at the bistro, I usually ate alone, in my living room. Yet Madison had just named every meal I’d eaten that week—burger, wings, grilled cheese, fries, milkshakes, and, just tonight—quesadillas.
How in the hell did she know all that?
“Isn’t that a little creepy? That she knew everything I’d eaten all week?”
It was Sunday morning, and Ellie and I were browsing the stalls at our favorite farmer’s market. Then we were going to head back to my place to make smoothies and binge-watchThe Handmaid’s Tale.
“Um, absolutely. That would freak me out,” Ellie said.
“And how did she know I took an Uber to work those mornings I felt sick? She said she just happened to be passing by and saw me get into an Uber, but that’s an awfully big coincidence, right?”
Ellie shivered. “That’s definitely concerning. You need to talk to Max.”
I frowned, chewing on my bottom lip. “I just don’t want to upset him by complaining about his girlfriend.”
“Well, be gentle about it—but hopefully, he can talk to her and get her to ease off a little.”
I grinned, shaking my head. “Can you believe she wants to come to my doctor’s appointments?”
Ellie laughed. “When is your next appointment, by the way?”
“Thursday, during my lunch break. Hopefully my mom can come.”
“Are you going to tell Max about the appointment?”
I paused. “I haven’t decided yet.”
Ellie’s phone rang. I paid for a bag of peaches from one of the booths as she took her call. “Alright, what time?” She listened. “Okay, see you then.” She turned to me with a sad face. “Two other bartenders have the flu, so unfortunately they need me at the bistro today.”
“Nooooo,” I moaned with an exaggerated pout. “Well, I guess we can watchThe Handmaid’s Taleanother time.”
