Where was Daniel?
She sat on one of the stools and took a big bite of muffin, blueberry juice staining her fingers and a corner of her mouth. “These are so much better with fresh blueberries, but frozen will do in a pinch.” She took another bite, then stopped chewing. “Sit. Eat,” she said. “Are you going to make a pregnant woman enjoy her muffin alone?”
“Sorry, no. Thanks.” I sat down awkwardly two stools over and broke off a small piece of muffin, which was still warm. I ate it, despite my nerves making it nearly impossible to swallow anything but my own saliva, and told her how delicious it was. “Maybe I can get the recipe,” I said, trying to break the icy tension hovering between us. Margot seemed happy I asked, and smiled wide as she wiped a crumb from her lip.
“Totally. I’ll email it to you.” Then she put her muffin down. “Better still, I’ll text it to you right now.” And she pulled her phone out of her back pocket.
“Do you need my number?” I asked, but she shook her head. “Already have it,” she replied, which was odd. I wondered how—did I give it to her at the party the other night?
I was about to tell her there was no rush, but she seemed determined to send the recipe immediately and so I stayed quiet and nibbled another piece of muffin while she tapped out the message. She paused only once to stare up to the ceiling as she mumbled about whether it was one teaspoon or one tablespoon of baking soda. “And...done.” She put her phone down and I felt mine buzz in my sweater’s pocket.
She raised her eyebrows. “Aren’t you going to check that? Make sure it came through okay?” It didn’t seem like she was asking—more like demanding I do it—so I pulled my phone out and was quite certain all the blood in my face drained when I saw what was on the screen. A message from Daniel.
Margot’s Buttermilk Blueberry Muffins
I quickly looked up at Margot, my heart beating so fast it was all I could do not to press both hands to my chest to keep it from exploding from my chest.
She popped the last bite of muffin in her mouth and held up the phone, the one she’d used to send me the text with the recipe. For a moment I stared while she chewed and swallowed, then with her next words everything fell into place.
“Daniel’s phone,” she said, pulling another muffin from the cooking rack. “Want a second one?” I shook my head slowly and she shrugged, placing the muffin on her own plate.
“I know what you’re thinking,” Margot said, carefully tugging the parchment paper wrapper from the muffin. “Why did I send you a message about meeting me—or Daniel, I guess—here?” She licked her fingers of the blueberry juice.
“I know what happened on Saturday, at the Maddy,” she said. Then she sighed. “Danny told me yesterday.”Danny?“When I mentioned seeing you at the party and that I’d told you about the baby, well, he sort of broke down then. He felt terrible about the whole thing.” Her elbow knocked a few muffins off the cooling rack. “What a mess,” she muttered, using a nearby cloth to clean up the purple smudges before they ruined the white marble. I wasn’t sure if she was referring to the muffin splatter, or the entire situation.
“Margot, I don’t know—” My mind couldn’t move quickly enough, and even if it could, what would I have said?I don’t know what happened. I didn’t mean to. It’s complicated.
“Stop. It’s fine,” she said, which confused me even more. “Of course, I’m not happy about it.” Her lips moved into a frown to prove her words. “But there’s been no real harm done.” And back to her muffin she went.
I swallowed hard and coughed when some of the muffin crumbs got caught in my throat. Margot took a glass off the open shelf by the sink, then turned on the faucet and let the water run. She held one finger in the stream and, when she was satisfied with the temperature, filled the glass and handed it to me.
“Thanks,” I said. I took a big sip and the cold water moved the muffin bit along.
“Look, I’m not blaming you,” she said, back on her stool. “You know how Danny is,” she said.How he is?
“Sorry, I’m not sure...what you mean.”Thump, thump, thumpwent my heart. I took another sip of water, trying to calm down.
“Ah, that’s right. The whole memory thing. Yeah, Danny told me about that, too. I’m sorry you’re going through this, Lucy. It sounds terrible.” She paused then, gave me a knowing look. “What I meant is it’s not like either of us should be surprised you and Danielreconnected. He’s always been a flirt. He got caught up.” She shrugged, continuing on with her second muffin, and I thought back to Alex’s comment about the pretty bartender at our engagement party. The fact Daniel had been engaged when I met him. The picture grew clearer...
“Margot, do you know why Daniel and I broke up?” My voice quavered, but I held her gaze.
Her face stayed still for a moment, and then...a nod. “I take it you don’t remember?”
“I do not,” I said. “Are...areyouthe reason we broke up?” This last part came out quietly and I held my breath. Waiting for the answer no one had yet been able—or willing—to give me.
I expected her to say,Yes. I’m sorry, yes.To tell me Daniel had been unfaithful, the two of them hooking up behind my back a couple of months before our wedding, and I steeled myself for her response. When she finally answered, I detected a hint of pity in her tone. “No.”
“No...?”
“You’ve got it backward,” she added softly. “It wasn’t because of me, Lucy. I swear to you.”
I nodded, because I needed her to go on but couldn’t trust my voice.
“Danny and I started dating about six months after you guys broke up. I had been in Ecuador, volunteering as a translator with an entomologist friend of mine, so I was pretty off the grid.” I thought back to the wedding I remembered, tried to picture Margot there but couldn’t. Of course, the wedding hadn’t been real, but I understood now why I couldn’t place her in any of my memories around that time—she hadn’t even been in the country.
“I ended up with malaria, came back earlier than expected and ran into Danny at an art exhibit a couple of months later. We started dating, I went to design school and he left his father’s firm and then we got married and, well, here we are.”
At her explanation a sense of calm settled over me. There was no malicious story here, at least not when it came to Margot. But then I remembered something. “Wait...you said I got it backward. What did you mean?”
