“I needed to check in. He didn’t come home?”
“No. We spoke around one in the morning. Like I texted you.”
Sheila took it all in, pretending to be interested in her muffin. It was probably the most carbs to pass her lips in a month.
“I’m going to call a lawyer later,” I said, “and tell them what he proposed. I want to do the preliminary paperwork as soon as possible. It can’t get processed or filed for a while, I think.”
“I still think you should press charges.”
“Like your dad, you told him the police would be back, but you didn’t do anything that day. I took a page out of your book.”
“Good one, Mar.”
There Mick went again with the nickname for my nickname, and my resolve to be a good married woman melted. Yes, Tommy and I were separating, but I’d told myself to behave.
“I want to see you,” Mick said. “When?”
“Mick ...” It was the first time I’d said his name aloud in front of Sheila, and she raised her eyebrows. “I don’t know.”
“I do,” he said. “It wasn’t ideal how this all blew open, but it’s done now. I’m coming over later, bringing dinner from the Paula. Ask Priscilla what she wants. Text me. I have to run to a work appointment ... I’ll call a little bit later.”
He hung up before I could answer. Some women might have been put off by that, like he was bossing them around, but it was actually the first time someone had offered to take care of me.
“Well?” Sheila asked, reminding me she was here taking care of me too.
Somehow in this nightmare of a situation, I’d found an extended family a million times better than my biological one.
Mick
Work was the salve I needed. It’s how I overcame the torturous memories I had of my childhood.
Somehow, though, I’d put myself back in a similar scenario.
Kicking up dirt outside my car while on the phone with some chef in New York I was supposedly trying to hire, I had a random thought.
I should have shacked up with one of the women I dated over the years.
It would have been simple. I could have provided them with a good life, and they would have been a companion. But at the end of the day, there was no passion in my belly for them or a life with them. Why I found that fire with a married woman was anyone’s best guess.
An injured—but not broken—married woman.
When I looked at Margo, I saw an amazing combination of grit and grace. My mom had the latter in spades but lacked the former.
Huh. Maybe that’s why.
“Right, exactly. We’ll deal with your exit strategy where you currently are and take care of all the legal fees, and then restructure your contract with us to compensate for whatever fees you may incur due to a buyout,” I told Michael, the chef I apparently needed. It didn’t matter I’d never dealt with a restaurant before. I knew how to steal an employee.
Like someone’s wife ...
I pushed the thought from my mind. Margo was long gone from that relationship, even if she was still legally tied to it. I wouldn’t let any guilt eat me up over the one night we’d shared. Her asshole husband deserved what he got, and it was over. Like ripping off a Band-Aid.
“Absolutely,” I told Michael. “Send all the paperwork to us, and we’ll take care of it.”
Hanging up, I called Margo to tell her I’d be bringing dinner over. She tried to push me away, but it wasn’t happening. I’d work my ass off to make her happy.
Which was how I spent the rest of my day, finishing up the restaurant deal and also receiving two bids on the warehouse.
I’d been at my desk for a few hours when I finally received a text from Margo, telling me what to pick up at the Paula. I ordered it myself for a six o’clock pickup. Some things were best done by me, rather than by my assistant.
