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“I’m just an associate for now, but hopefully a partner any day now.” I gave her a wink and she giggled and blushed.That wink made Margo want to claw my eyes out.The thought popped into my head and I couldn’t will it away. Flashing brown eyes, her tongue tangling angrily with mine. I shifted in my seat.
“So, my mother tells me you’re going to medical school in the fall?” I had received a full dossier from Daphne Markman and Portia blushed prettily at my interest. She was animated while she told me all about the work she hoped to do for Doctors Without Borders, the reasons she was going, how excited she was.
I could feel myself nodding along, taking tiny bites of my steak, even though I barely tasted it.I wonder what Margo is doing right now.She was probably home with her improbably amazing family in Vermont. Her sister who was a vet and her best friend, her mom who knitted and loved celebrity gossip, her father who cooked delicious family meals. Was she out at her hometown bar? Was she seeing all the country boys she had grown up with? I squeezed my fingers around my fork and refocused on Portia.
“…and I know it’s not all like a TV show, but I do think it will be exciting.” She flashed her insanely white teeth at me again and took a sip of her wine. I had the insane urge to tell her that red wine would stain her teeth if she wasn’t careful.
I forced myself to nod and give her a polite smile. I was messing this up. But then again, I didn’t really want to try.
“So what are your plans for before medical school then?” If I could just keep her talking, I would survive another 20 minutes.
“I would love to travel.” She launched into a description of all the places she wanted to go this summer, presumably on her parents’ dime and I tuned out for a minute. What if Margo were at a restaurant just like this, on a date? What would she tell them? I felt my brows draw down. I had no idea what she would say. The Margo I knew was one from seven years ago.What a damn shame.I had tried to bridge that gap on Friday, but my schoolboy lust for her had overridden my good sense. And then it had all gone to hell. Her words had been like a bucket of cold water on my ardor, her obvious disdain like a nail through my heart.
“Are you even paying attention?”
I looked up to see Portia’s eyes flashing. Her mouth was set and her food was finished.
“Yes, of course,” I lied smoothly. Hadn’t I heard this exact exchange a hundred times?
The years spooled out in front of me. Us sitting across a table in a perfectly decorated dining room, her talking animatedly about her day, me sitting in cool silence.Remind you of anyone? I felt ill. I wouldn’t put another woman through that.
“I’m so sorry, Portia. I need to go.” Her eyes went wide. My chair screeched across the floor as I stood, causing diners to turn and look. I dropped a wad of cash on the table, more than enough to cover the bill and a generous tip, and stumbled out.
I made it to my car and sank down in the seat.I was just like him. With his cold words, his lack of interest, the way I made her feel less than. My stomach twisted, like I might throw up my seven bites of dinner. How many times had I heard my mother telling him about her day, only to barely spark a modicum of interest on his part? How many times had I watched her perform for him, increasingly trying to get his attention? It had never worked. He was single-minded, ruthless.
Was I just as bad? Margo had called me ruthless before. I turned our conversations over in my head. The times we had fought, her spitting fire while I gave nothing but cool derision, the times I had refused to open up, and the worst time, the time I didn’t think about. When I had told her to “stay out of my way” before taking my things to a new office that stank of fresh paint and loneliness. I’d been so angry, so twisted up over her and her failure to respond to me.Was this all my fault?
I scrubbed a hand over my face. Something had to change. I was done trying to fit into the mold of the perfect son. I opened an email to my family’s attorney and asked him to set up time to discuss refusing my trust distributions. As I typed out the words, I felt lighter.
What would it be like to renounce the Markman crown, to finally be my own man? Estate, income, obligations, it was all a trap. I knew my family name, looks and money had gotten me where I was today, but I’d be damned if I ever took another dollar from their poisoned coffers.
I turned the car on and started the drive back to the compound. I needed to find a new apartment, first and foremost. Right now, I rattled around the Markman apartment on Park Avenue like a ghost. That was going to change as soon as possible. I frowned. It would be tough to get this done over the holiday, but my skin itched with the need to separate myself. Once a decision was made, I was all in. I made a mental note to email my assistant and Margo’s assistant, Paola. They both had tons of friends and connections, and surely someone knew of a good building with an empty unit.
That left Margo. I didn’t know why she felt like a puzzle to solve, but she did. When we were together, there was always a spark of something. I could feel it there, just below the surface. I shook my head in the empty car. It was beyond time to move on from that. She had made her feelings on the matter crystal clear. But the way I had left things with her didn’t sit right with me. In fact, the past eight years didn’t sit right with me.
I hated her wariness every time I entered the room, hated how her defenses were up every time we spoke. That was going to end. A clean break with my past meant a fresh start with her. I tamped down the little spark of hope that flared in my chest. Margo didn’t want to bemore, but we could be friends. Friends I could handle.
12
Margo
Isighed happily and patted my belly. “Best dinner ever, Dad. Thank you.”
He smiled, his eyes crinkling. “I made all your favorites.” And he had. Homemade caesar salad, pork and chive dumplings, rigatoni bolognese, pumpkin pie, apple pie, even a cheese course. The melting pot of America was happily rumbling in my stomach. We had never been ones to stick with a traditional Christmas feast, for which I was especially glad this year.
I was sprawled on the massive worn sofa in the living room, Emily by my side and Mom in her chair. The Christmas lights were winking behind us and It’s a Wonderful Life played for the 10thtime that day on the TV.
Len and Mary had just left, but Josh was nowhere to be found.
“Had enough of Josh? I assume he’s still alive.” I raised a brow at Emily, who quickly glanced at my mom. She was engrossed in flipping through our local paper while the movie played.
“We kissed,” Emily said urgently.
I sat up straight. “You what?” I hissed.
She looked furtively at my mother again. “We kissed. Yesterday, behind the house, when I went out to help him with the firewood.”
“And this is the first I’m hearing about it?! You should have called me while his lips were planted on yours.”
