With that, our collective mood turned a corner just in time as I pulled into her driveway.
“Come on,” I said before slipping out of the driver’s side and hurrying to open her door. “Let’s get you settled.” I stole Tito and his leash, keeping him by my feet.
Margo leaned against me, almost collapsing, the weight of her day seeping into me.
She opened the door, and as soon as it closed behind us, she held on to me tighter.
I turned her toward me and ran my lips over the top of her head. Her hair a wild mess, I brushed it over one shoulder and bent to kiss her neck. I wasn’t sure if she was up for it, but the humming coming from her throat was a good sign.
My lips ran up and down her soft skin, tasting a tinge of salt as I inhaled her scent. A discreet hint of perfume and the rest all Margo. Not Margaret.
“Let yourself go,” I whispered as I made my way up to her mouth.
I brushed over her supple lips and gave her a closed-mouth kiss. She responded with more humming, and a moan escaped my own throat. We didn’t waste time, taking the kiss deeper, eventually our mouths opening and tongues exploring. Somehow, we ended up maneuvered with her back against the door and my hips pressing into hers.
“Huh-uh,” I said as Tito gave a little yap. “We aren’t doing the door thing. First, you’re taking a bath and I’m tiring out the dog, then I’m feeding you, and then I’m going to take my time with you.”
Back on her tiptoes, Margo pressed her lips to mine. She kissed me with a fervor I’d never known, like she wanted to devour me.
“Thank you for being there,” she murmured.
Breaking the moment, I took her hand and led her up the stairs. “Where to?” I asked. I’d been over a lot, but not inside her bedroom.
“Last door on the left.” She motioned with her free hand to the left of the T at the top of the stairs.
I looked around as I walked her toward her room—the one she’d shared with her ex-prick—but I couldn’t bring myself to care. On one wall was framed children’s artwork, and I assumed they were Priscilla’s. A portrait of Margo holding a newborn Priscilla and an antique-looking photo were hung side-by-side.
“Your grandma?” I asked.
“Yes. A far cry from my mom, but who I hope I’m closest to being like.”
As we approached the door, I said, “You’re one of a kind, Mar. One of the most giving and caring persons I’ve ever met.”
“I don’t know ...”
“I do. Don’t let self-doubt creep up into this moment.”
Our hands still intertwined, I turned to face her and placed a kiss on her lips. I couldn’t keep my mouth or hands to myself.
“I made some changes, by the way.”
Raising an eyebrow, I wasn’t sure what to make of what she was saying.
She turned toward the bed. “I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want to presume, but I took an afternoon for myself while Priss was at school and redecorated. I got new bedding and replaced some of the pictures.”
I turned to take in the full room. The bed was done in shades of blue, and the nightstands both held black-and-white photos of Priscilla. The lamps had books as the stems.
“Those lamps are cool. I take it you read?” I asked, realizing how much I had to learn about Margo, and I wanted to learn every single thing about her.
She chuckled. “I do like to read. Mostly science fiction. I know, I know ... weird choice.”
“No,” I said as I gathered her in my arms. “I think it’s perfect. Margo, my little Martian.”
This got me more laughter.
“I actually bought those lamps recently too. On the same day. I found them in a little store over by the Paula.”
“I’m glad. You deserve your own space.”
