I finished the most pressing issues and headed out, wondering if we would eat with or without Priscilla. I knew she was pretty much bedridden for a few days, so I didn’t know whether I should be in her bedroom or not.
“Hey, thanks. Here, let me take that.”
Margo answered the door, clearly overcome with anxiety. When she reached for the takeout bag, I let her take control of the food.
“Follow me,” she said, walking in the house.
It was one of those uppity McMansions, filled with designer furniture and zero character. In other words, not Margo.
After walking through the foyer, with a living room on the left and some type of formal dining area on the right, we reached the kitchen. This room with its pale blue tiles and gray swirled counters, large stools at an eating bar, and a plethora of kitchen appliances, felt more like Margo.
She set the food on the counter and turned to me. A long pause stretched out between us.
“How is Priscilla?” I asked, filling the void.
Margo let out a long breath. “Physically, she has a long haul, but she’ll be fine. Emotionally, she insists she’s good, but I don’t believe it. She’s dozing now. Do you mind if I let her rest a while longer before we eat?”
“Of course not. Let her sleep.”
My answer came quickly. I wanted my actions to speak for themselves ... I’d never come between Margo and her daughter.
“She’s probably more resilient than you give her credit for,” I started to say, then thought better of it. “Fuck. Yeah, this is going to affect her. Look at us. I fell for you at Stephanie’s, and then I saw your wrist, and old habits die hard. I couldn’t stay uninvolved.”
“I don’t want her to be scarred.” Margo bit her lip and twisted her hands together.
“Come here.” I reached out, my fingertips brushing hers, and she walked slowly into my arms. “Let me hold you.”
Margo stood stiffly in my embrace for a moment, then relaxed. “This isn’t normal. I mean, us. We met, slept together, and that should have been it. Now you’re all mixed up in my life.”
“Sometimes life doesn’t make sense.” I chuckled, and she tipped her head back to stare at me. “I know. That sounded silly coming from my mouth.”
I wanted to tell her how I saw her husband that day at the restaurant, what he said, and how any man worth his weight would have punched his lights out. But I knew the wounds were too raw.
“This is all happening fast,” I said, “and not the way we would have planned.”
Margo sighed. “I know this is probably hard for you. Being in his house.”
“No.” My response was firm. “Although this place doesn’t feel at all like you, I don’t give a shit about him. What I worry about is how he gave in so quickly ... like he was looking for an exit strategy.”
I knew what Tommy’s reason was—at least, I thought I did. His girlfriend, the side piece he’d mentioned. But this wasn’t the time to bring that up.
Margo licked her lips and rested her head on my chest. “I hate leaning on you like this. Literally and figuratively.”
“I want you to,” I whispered, and I meant it. As I held her, I wondered when I would tell her about the restaurant run-in I had with Tommy.
“He was unhappy. Obviously. Seeing you, I’m sure, was the final straw, because nothing irks him more than being showed up. The partners at his firm are the most important people in his life. He’ll tell them we’re divorcing because he was done with me, and I’m fine with that. I’ll take the blame if it gets him out of my life. I couldn’t do it on my own, so I guess I’m grateful for the scene at the hospital.”
“You would have figured a way.” I didn’t want her to think of this as another failure, and I hated her taking the blame, but he was gone. For good, I hoped.
All of a sudden, a weak, “Mom,” rang through the house.
Margo immediately pulled out of my arms. “Duty calls. I’ll be right back.” She padded off toward the stairs.
As I watched her retreat, I took another glance around the kitchen, liking the well-used feel and thinking about the stark contrast to the rest of the house. Under other circumstances, I would have hunted around and fixed myself a drink, but I didn’t know if Margo drank around her daughter. Hell, I didn’t know much of anything about how they lived.
Shaking my head, I was wondering what I’d gotten myself into, when I spotted Margo helping her daughter down the stairs. With her uninjured arm around Margo’s middle, Priscilla walked slowly, holding her elaborate cast and sling awkwardly.
I hurried to the bottom of the stairs. “Can I help?”
