“If I get on my knees right now, Snow, it won’t be for me to beg you to take me home. It'll be with your leg resting on my shoulder and—”
“Goodnight, Jenna and Cole,” Lizzie and Olive’s harmonizing voices shout from the front door, letting us know that they’re on their way out, and I push him away from me.
I clear my throat. “Night guys. I guess I—we—should head out, too.” I collect my things, hug everyone goodbye and walk out, side by side with Cole.
I thank Cassandra and Harley for throwing me an intimate game's night for a birthday party, and walk out to the parked G-Wagon.
Cole rounds the car quickly, opening the door for me, and I roll my eyes. “What are you trying to do? Win me over?” I say sarcastically, stepping into the car, and he closes the door for me. “What is happening?” I whisper to myself as I plug my phone into the charger, waiting for him to get in.
He closes his door gently, reaching over my chest for my seat belt to buckle it in for me, but I take it out of his hands. “Okay,thatis where I draw the line.”
“Was just seeing how far you’d let me take it,” he says for the second time tonight, and I shake my head with a sigh, making sure I turn my face away from him so he can’t see me smile.
Turning on the ignition, the car alerts me that I have a text message from Margot asking me to call her when I get the chance, and even though it’s late, I do it now anyway.
“Do you mind?” I ask Cole as we take off down the windy driveway of the Wingrove palace.
“Go for it. I need to text Tate telling him I’m not coming home,” he tells me, and before I can protest, Margot answers the call.
“Hey, Boss. Sorry it’s so late,” she says in a hushed tone.
“It’s fine. I was just heading home. Is everything OK?” I ask, seeing Cole place his phone into his lap, but his eyes remain glued out the window of the passenger seat.
“Everything with the salon is fine. It’s just…your mom came in today and—” She hesitates, and my body stiffens. My mom and the salon used together in the same sentence doesn’t bode well with me. “She begged me not to tell you, but it didn’t feel right and—”
“Margot, I love you, but spit it out.”
“She asked if she could have a job while you’re away. Sweeping up hair, shampooing and conditioning, all the boring stuff,” she says with a sigh.
“Did she say why?” I ask, biting the inside of my cheek so hard that I draw blood, the taste of metallic tang on my tongue.
“No, just that she’s desperate for money. She looks unwell, Jen. Really thin.” I put the car into park in my designated space at our apartment building. Cole climbs out, and mouths, ‘I’ll see you tomorrow,’ before closing his door quietly, leaving me alone with Margot, the silence, and my thoughts.
I hate my thoughts.
They go where no thoughts about a mother should go.
“Give her a job. Let her do the absolute bare minimum, but pay her higher than what we would usually pay a casual worker. Don’t tell her that I know.” I hang up before she can ask why I’m doing that for a woman who doesn’t deserve anything from me. I grip the steering wheel so tight my knuckles turn white, then I punch it twice.
She’s too proud to let me pay for her to have a better life than the one she lives, but not too proud to beg for a job? The money would come from the same place, but I guess her pride can’t handle me knowing about it.
I fight the urge to call or text her and demand she tell me what’s going on. But I know that if I do, it’ll end in one of us getting emotionally abused—me.
I’ve enjoyed my night tonight way too much to let it be ruined by the devil-incarnate.
I unlock my phone to text Cassandra to let her know I’ve made it home safely when it vibrates in my hand, and for a moment, I forget that I’m frustrated.
Unknown:I took the key off your keychain and am waiting in my birthday suit.
I giggle to myself, fumbling to take my keys out of the center console to see if he’s lying, and close the car door behind me.
“I didn’t think you’d still be here,” I say to Marv, who rises from the chair behind the computer desk. His hair looks a little ruffled tonight, but he still seems more put together than I ever have.
“Hi, Ms. Rogers. I was waiting to make sure you got home safely,” he replies with a smile, heading in my direction.
My apartment is only a few feet away, but I don’t feel like being alone, so I sit on the couch in the foyer, and pat the empty spot beside me.
His eyebrows pinch together, but he straightens his back and continues to walk my way.
