“I was joking. Really.”
“Now I’m going to,” she said, lifting her chin stubbornly as we pulled up to the valet at Barcelona.
“We’ll see about that,” I said, chuckling.
“Wow, that was delicious,” Margo said toward the end of our meal. We’d shared a bottle of Spanish cabernet and a bunch of tapas. “I need to try to make those potatoes aioli.”
“I’m down for that. You could do it in my kitchen.”
“That may be nice.” Her gaze got far-off as if she were trying to picture it.
“With or without Priscilla. She’s always welcome.”
Margo simply nodded, and then the server showed up with the bill.
“I don’t want this to end, but I need to get home,” Margo said.
“I get it. Believe me. I applaud your priorities.”
Unsure of what just happened, I still placed my hand at her lower back and walked her through the dark restaurant with Spanish music piping through the speakers.
While waiting for the valet, I pulled Margo into my side, and she came willingly.
“I’m sorry, I just got uptight. I still feel like I’m sneaking around.” Her words were quiet and only meant for me, but they still hurt.
“You’re not sneaking anymore, and I don’t want you to feel like I’m a bad choice or taking you away from your daughter.”
She didn’t say anything in response, only stood on her tiptoes and brushed a small kiss across my cheek.
“Now, that I liked,” I told her, squeezing her tighter against me.
With the car in front of us now, she slipped inside, and I walked around front, tipping the valet.
It was an abrupt ending to the evening, and I suspected it would be a long while before I was between the sheets with Margo again.
“I see your mind working overtime,” she said.
“Caught. Honestly, I don’t want this night to end.”
“Neither do I. Let’s see what Priscilla is doing. Maybe we can have some coffee or another drink at home? Let me text her to tell Penny to call for her ride.”
“I’m in if you are. Do you want me to take her home?” I left it at that because pressure was a bad idea right now.
Margo laughed. “Um, no. I don’t think a forty-year-old guy should be driving a non-related teen girl home. That’s parenting one-oh-one.”
“Hey, I don’t claim to know everything.”
“I got ya,” she said as I turned on her street. “Pull in the driveway.”
I did as I was told, hoping to steal some kisses or more. Happy to prolong the evening, I walked her inside the house.
“Hey, Mom,” Priscilla called.
“Hi, girls,” she said back. “Good time?”
I excused myself to the bathroom and let those three chat for a moment. When I got back, Penny was hugging everyone good-bye and heading to the door, headlights illuminating the outside of the house.
“Say hi to your mom,” Margo said, and Penny was gone. To Priscilla, she said, “Want anything before I help you upstairs?”
