Page 52 of Lie With Me

“Cares about him? Margo, do you know what she did to him? She shouldn’t have cheated on him if she cared about him.”

Judging by the look on Margo’s face, she had no idea that’s what happened. Silently, I curse myself for letting it slip because it’s obvious Tripp will get an earful about why he didn’t tell his mother.

“Cheated? Emily cheated on him? When did he find this out? Why didn’t he tell me?”

“Knowing Tripp, he probably wanted to save her from looking bad. It’s my understanding your families are close. Maybe he didn’t want to ruin that for you.”

She looks mortified that I would even suggest that he kept it to himself to pacify her. “Tripp knowshe can come to us with that sort of thing. To even think we wouldn’t have his back–”

“That isn’t what I said, Margo. I just think he didn’t want to disappoint you.”

I’m in dangerous waters here. To divulge that I know things about Tripp’s life that she’s unaware of doesn’t make it look like I’m just a poor split-second decision. It makes it look like I’m the real deal if he’s entrusting me with information she doesn’t have.

Just as I’m about to try to backtrack, she surprises me by completely changing the subject.

“Do you have a dress picked out already? Maybe we can see if Ginny can take off early and meet us for some shopping,” Margo suggests as she takes a dainty bite of her salmon.

Talk about a one-eighty.

While I’m thankful for the change in topic, now she wants to oversee my dress?

We’ve already covered flowers, food, and music. I have no problem acquiescing to those things for her. Margo is known for her parties. I have faith that whatever she chooses will be beautiful.

But my clothing?

Shrugging, I stuff an entire ravioli in my mouth and answer while chewing my food, earning me a poorly concealed look of revulsion. “I’m sure I have something I can wear in my closet.”

Do I want to go shopping for a new gown for the engagement party? Yes.

Do I want to go shopping for a new gown for the engagement partywith Margo? Fuck no.

“Well, what does it look like? Are you wearing white? I think it’s a little gauche if you ask me. You and Tripp are adults. I think we all know you’re not saving yourself for marriage. Maybe a cream? Or an eggshell, perhaps. You have such lovely coloring. I’m sure anything you pick will be wonderful.”

Is that a compliment? I can’t tell under all the shit she layered on top of it.

“Don’t plan on wearing white. I was thinking red, actually. It’s totally my color.” This ditzy act is getting tiring, and Margo looks exasperated nearly every time I open my mouth.

The sun is leaving the sky, and all the lights strung up over the streets are illuminated, creating an atmospheric glow for the early evening. This is one of my favorite spots in the city, and I briefly wonder why I decided to share it with her today.

“Red? My dear girl, you can’t wearred. It’s so ostentatious.”

“Are you aware that Ginny is having me wear red at her wedding?” I snap back.

That shuts her up. She’d never say anything against darling Ginny, who managed to tame Jackson Tailor and get him to settle down. That was a feat to behold in Margo’s eyes.

“Well…I suppose.” She reaches up to pat her chignon, eyes darting around the restaurant. She looks so uncomfortable here, and I wonder if there was ever a time when Margo let her hair down and just tried to have fun.

“Don’t worry. I wouldn’t dream of embarrassingyou. I’ll find something cream or eggshell. If you’d like, I’ll even send you photos so you can approve it before the party.” I want her to hear how ridiculous she sounds.

It works.

Her face relaxes. She lets out a long sigh and shakes her head. “I know I sound unreasonable, Valentina. I just want–”

“Everything to be perfect. I know. Tripp deserves the best. That’s what he’ll get.” Pushing my plate back, I signal for the check. I had every intention of making Margo pay for our meals, but there’s something about the way this entire conversation has gone.

It’s seriously stressing her out, and that makes me feel bad.

This means something to her, and it doesn’t to me.

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