I can’t tell if he’s even hearing me and I’m not in the mood to argue.
I stand and put my empty mug back on the tray. “I’m going down to get Eleanor ready for the day. Maybe we should talk later?”
He reaches out and grabs my hand. “I have a work event coming up in a few days. I’d like you to attend with me.”
“Okay, I can do that.” I offer a smile but I’m frustrated. This is the second time I’ve attempted to get him to talk about things with us—or maybe it’s the third, I can’t remember—but he clearly isn’t interested in having the conversation. At least not now.
I know I should just ask him outright, what the hell are we doing, but I’m terrified. I’m scared that the reason he’s avoiding the conversation is because to him, this is all just a fling and if I put him on the spot and demand a straightforward answer, I’ll risk it all falling apart.
He pulls me toward him and kisses me deeply. His tongue snakes into my mouth immediately but just as quickly he ends it and walks toward his bathroom.
I leave his room and head downstairs to get my day started, the lingering question of would I rather lose him and have my answer or would I be okay living in denial floating in my head.
The rest of the morning goes smoothly. All through breakfast, morning music lessons, and the drive to ballet class, Eleanor never once mentions what she saw this morning.
Relief washes over me. Although, I still have to navigate our family movie night. My stomach tightens again at that word.
Instead of heading back to the house during Eleanor’s class, I pull into a Starbucks. I scroll through social media, check a few news articles, and then flip over to my email. One at the top catches my eye. It’s from Grace Tillmore.
Margot,
I hope you’re doing well. I wanted to reach out and follow up with you regarding our conversation about the upcoming position at La Crème Academy. I’ve spoken with my husband Jeff about your background—he was super impressed with your resume!—and your education. He feels like you would be a fantastic fit! You are already familiar with our standards and culture here at La Crème so I know you’d fit right in.
They do plan on posting the job position but not for another month so you have time to think about it. Although, I really, really hope you’ll take it!
As always, if you have any questions feel free to send them over. Jeff will be reaching out to you in a few days to set up a phone call.
All the best!
Grace Tillmore.
My heart sinks. This is the kind of opportunity I’ve dreamed of and to be considered for it at such a young age means so much to me.
I think about my mom and dad, how proud of me they’d be. They’d also encourage me to take it. But then again, they both always preached to me to follow my heart.
“Mom, why’d you give up your dreams of being a singer?”
It was a warm summer night and she and I were sitting on our front porch watching fireflies as we snacked on some popcorn. It was only a few months after Dad passed.
“Well, doll, dreams change. I loved being a singer so much; it was my dream, you’re right, but then you came along and my dreams changed. I realized I wanted to not only share music with the world but teach youngsters like you. It wasn’t just about sharing my gift with the world anymore. It was about teaching them how they could have it too.”
I think about that conversation often. I know dreams can change. I just don’t know if mine actually have or if I’m trying to justify not following them.
I stare at the email again, my eyes glazing over as nothing feels clearer. I’d give anything to have my mom here right now to talk through it.
My phone buzzes and I see ‘Maybe Warren Dorsey’ across the top. I always hit ignore. I don’t know why I haven’t blocked him. But something in me hits the answer button this time.
“Hello?”
“Margot, is that you?” His scratchy voice instantly sends a chill down my spine, the kind you get when you can smell the scuzziness coming off someone.
“What do you want?”
“Now is that any way to speak to your father? I just want to get to know my little girl. Don’t you think it’s time we put things behind us?”
I can feel bile rising in my throat.
“Fuck you!” I shout, not caring that I’m in public. “You had your chance, you piece of shit, and you were never my father. You will never be my father!”
Tears sting my eyes as I end the call and walk out of Starbucks, a few people staring after me.
I fasten the delicate necklace around my neck. It’s a simple gold music note that once belonged to my mother. She gave it to me on my eighteenth birthday.
The royal-blue dress I picked out for Graham’s work event hugs my slight curves intimately. The neckline swoops across my chest, dipping just low enough to expose my cleavage. The real showstopper is the back. It swoops all the way down to my waist, just above the two dimples at the base of my spine.
I let out a shaky breath as I stare at my reflection. I angle my front away so I can check the back again.
“You look breathtaking.”
I turn my attention to the doorway where Graham is standing.
“You look pretty mouthwatering yourself.” I drag my eyes casually up his finely clad body. “New tux?”
He pulls himself away from the doorway. “It is.”
He comes to stand behind me, placing his hands on my upper arms.
“Don’t worry about the dress. Trust me, every neck will break when you walk through that door.”
I can feel his warmth against my exposed back and it’s comforting. We haven’t spoken about things since Eleanor found us in bed together earlier this week. I didn’t want to ruin the family movie night which ended up being so much fun.
We watched a Barbie movie and a My Little Pony movie while eating ‘unicorn popcorn’ that was just regular popcorn coated in chemically sweet neon colors. Eleanor had the time of her life with us and Muffin and ended up passing out between us halfway through the second movie.
“That’s what I’m afraid of. I don’t really like being the center of attention.”
He pulls a small box from his pocket and opens it, pulling out a small gold bracelet.
“Give me your wrist.” I lift it toward him, and he wraps the bracelet around me, clasping it.
“I thought of you when I saw this. This one isn’t borrowed; it’s yours to keep.”
“Graham,” I gasp. “You shouldn’t have.”
I look down at the small plate in the center of the chain. “What is this?” I ask, referring to the black etching on it.
“Let me see your phone.” I reach over and grab it, handing it to him.
He opens the Spotify app and points the camera at the bracelet, scanning it. Instantly, “In Your Eyes” by Peter Gabriel plays through the speakers.
My heart catches in my throat and I wonder if he chose the song or if he just picked a random one.
“That’s amazing.” I smile as I look down at it again. “You’re amazing,” I say, sliding my hands up his chest and around his neck.
“Promise me something?”
“Of course.”
“Never doubt how much you mean to me.”