She looked up and gave me one of those smiles just for me.
“Tell me, everything okay getting here?”
She nodded. “I sat with Priss while she ate and made sure she was getting started on homework.”
“You’re a good mom,” I told her.
“If I can get her out of this situation,” she said.
“You will. My mom worried about it too. I know because she told me after the fact, but she always felt bad she didn’t have the guts to do it earlier.”
“I hope I have the guts,” Margo said softly.
“Oh, you do.” I wasn’t entirely sure, but I was going to encourage her.
The server interrupted our moment, and I asked Margo what she was up for.
“One glass of red,” she said.
I ordered a bottle, intending to leave the rest for the server. I decided to go with a Sapporo for myself, and asked for some edamame and dumplings, sending the server on his way.
Margo and I made small talk about my trip, seeing my friend from Wharton, and where Priscilla liked to get her pizza from, Village Pizza.
With our drinks poured, we clinked glasses, and I said, “To slowing it down a little. To getting out and finding new happiness.”
“Really?” Margo raised her brows at my words.
“Really,” I said before downing a sip of my beer. “We hit the ground running, and while I enjoyed every second of it—immensely—it was too rushed.”
She nodded. “It was a little fast.”
“It was. Look, we know the chemistry is there,” I said, and this made her blush. The smallest hint of pink bloomed in her cheeks. When I teased, “And that was only the very tip of things to come,” the pink turned to red.
“Mick ...”
“Is that a warning or promise?”
“Both,” she said.
“Fuck,” I said and leaned in. “You look hot in that blouse.”
Margo was wearing a black blouse, the buttons stopping right above her cleavage.
“But I’m getting distracted. What I want you to know is there’s no rushing on my part. Of course, I don’t want to see situations like with your wrist again, so time is somewhat imperative. But when it comes to you and me ... I’m here.”
Like a class A idiot, I laid it all on the line, a mistake I didn’t make when it came to business. But when it came to my personal life, apparently all rules flew out the window.
“Tell me about your week,” I said, changing the subject.
“Oh.” She picked up her wine and took a sip. “Mostly the same. I’m writing a quickie piece, filler, on the power of reels when it comes to makeup.”
“Wait, that sounded like a foreign language to me.”
“Right. Reels on Instagram are quick, quirky video clips. Makeup influencers are using them for brief tutorials, and they attract a lot of eyeballs.”
I nodded. “I have a lot to learn.”
“You sound like one of the dads from Priscilla’s class.”
