This shouldn’t be happening.
Not here.
Not now.
“Dad, what’s wrong?” Dan asks, still watching the trio.
“I remembered something important at home. Come on, guys,” Margot says, and I throw her a grateful glance.
When Viola laid into her, I could see her rattled, but now she’s pure efficiency.
If they want a fight, they’ll be sorry for ever going against a Blackthorn scorned.
“Meet you at the car?”
“Sure,” she says.
A second later, she’s back in the crowd, smiling her pretty face off as people flash photos and yell questions and compliments.
A few phones swing in my direction, too, so I hustle the kids toward the rental vehicle parked on the street.
To their credit, they don’t protest once they figure out it’s serious. They just follow.
I wish I could say this has never happened before, but it has.
Fuck my life entirely.
I just never thought it would matter here and complicate everythingmore.
What the hell am I doing, dragging Margot down worse?
We could still share the place, do our thing, go our separate ways, and that would be the end.
Instead, sex happened, and then feelings.
I clench my jaw, shaking my head.
She meets us at the SUV a few seconds later, sharing the same grim resignation on her face.
Our Sully Bay disaster just grew ten times bigger.
17
FAR FROM HOME (MARGOT)
As soon as we’re back at the house, we check the locks on all the doors and windows.
That’s becoming habit now, nothing out of the ordinary, but there’s a fresh urgency.
Somehow, I still have my hair.
Kind of miraculous when I’ve been fighting the urge to rip it out for the better part of an hour.
Thankfully, the kids are fine. They settle down in front of the TV in the living room, and I’ve made us this orange blossom tea I picked up at the market.
Not blueberry.
After this sad experience, I’m going to be over it for the next decade.
