Page 59 of Love and Other Champagne Problems

“Why don’t you ask Nancy for help? I’m sure she’d lend you something to help get you settled?—”

“Contrary to what my father says, I do have some dignity left.” I let my hands fall from his arms, weighing like pieces of lead in my lap. “If I’m too much of a coward to leave without her help, I don’t deserve her money.” Even the idea of asking made me sick to my stomach. It made me hate myself even more for ever considering it. “And you know what, Sumner? Have you ever thought that maybe I’d be embarrassed to admit to you the truth about marrying Aaron? Embarrassed to admit that my life isn’t unfolding how I wanted it to—how Idreamedfor it to.” My words ran together rapidly, chest feeling as though it was cracking apart. “And Ihateit. But the only thing I can do is to throw it all away, and I can’t, I can’t?—”

Before I could get another word out, Sumner leaned forward and wrapped his arms around me, drawing me into him. Our kneeling knees pressed together as he tucked me close, one hand wrapped around my lower back while the other reached up and rubbed between my shoulder blades. “Shh,” Sumner murmured in my ear, his cheek pressing against the side of my head. “Shh, it’s all right, Margot. Take a breath.”

I trembled in Sumner’s warm embrace, unable to reign in my shaking. I knotted my fingers into the loose fabric of his shirt, my knuckles brushing the firmness of his stomach underneath. I could smell the scent of his laundry detergent and hear the pulse of his heart, and Ifocused on those things, allowing them to pull me back from the brink.

“I’d be alone,” I whispered into his shoulder, my lips brushing the material of his shirt. The wetness on my cheeks had to be transferring onto him, but I didn’t pull away. “If I were to back out of the agreement with Aaron, if my parents were to throw me away—I’d be truly alone. And I don’t want to be.”

Sumner continued to rub circles on my back, sealing the cracks that’d begun to form within me. I felt so small in his arms, like a child finding true comfort for the first time. This was more than holding my hand. And itwasthe first time someone held me like this. I’d told Sumner I wasn’t fragile, but in that moment, I felt as though the slightest breeze could’ve broken me.

Tension began unwinding within me with each cycle of Sumner’s palm. For the first time, I allowed myself to let my guard down, and let him bear more and more of my weight. He never wavered, never shifted; his arms remained steadfast around me. “What if it’s better?” Sumner murmured. “That other life.”

Could it have been? Was being disowned by my parents better? A life without my Malstoni and Gilfman suits, without my Pierre’s avocado toast, without my Chateau Miselle Sauternes wine. A life without a home, without money. Shallow things, perhaps, but would I be happy without them? Could I be? All alone?

The vacuum from the living room kicked off, which only deepened the quiet.

Earlier in the night, when we’d been this close, I’d been about to kiss him. That magical sort of momentwas gone now, shattered along with the wine glass out in the living room. But this one… this moment was simultaneously painful and comforting, tightening my chest with tension while also easing it. It made no sense, but it was the first time such a feeling arose within me.

It was comforting because I felt safe, and it was painful because it wouldn’t last.

Comforting because it was Sumner. Painful because it was Sumner.

But I wanted it to. I wanted to stay in Sumner’s embrace, where I was thawing and sheltered and held tight. “Sumner,” I whispered. “I?—”

“We’ve finished cleaning up all the glass,” housekeeping spoke through the door.

The sudden voice caused us both to pull away from each other—Sumner released me first, and I forced myself to relinquish the grip on his shirt. “Thank you,” he called to them. After a beat, Sumner slid the pad of his thumb along my cheekbone, swiping away the tear that had fallen, the gentleness chasing away its path of frustration. The action caused my throat to tighten, and in spite of the horrible night, a fragment of the fluttering feeling from earlier resurfaced in my chest.

He’d been hired to be my secretary, my babysitter, but over the past few weeks, Sumner had become more important to me than I’d realized. If he hadn’t been here tonight, I’d be bearing the aftermath of my father’s anger alone. I wouldn’t have called housekeeping. I wouldn’t have cleaned up my cut. I would’ve been alone. And he didn’t leave when I told him to. He stayed, and he held me tight.

I wondered if my parents realized how much they were giving me when they hired him. How much of a risk it was.

It almost hurt how much my heart swelled with the realization. I didn’t like Sumner Pennington as my secretary. I didn’t like Sumner Pennington as my friend. I liked him in the way I never, ever should’ve.

But it was too late.

“You should go, too,” I said, though my voice was far more exhausted than it’d been a moment ago. I reached up and withdrew his hand, holding it for a moment before setting it back into his lap. I wondered if he noticed that mine shook. “It’s late.”

This time, he didn’t immediately fire back a retort, refusing to leave. Any argument he had died on his parted lips. I knew I sounded exhausted, but I must’ve looked it too—my eyes already felt near impossible to keep open.

Sumner didn’t fight me this time. With my drained order in the air, he rose to his feet, but instead of turning away, he grabbed my hands and drew me to stand, too. “Let’s get you into bed,” he said, and led me over. “If you need anything, just call me. Or bang on the wall—I’ll know it’s not the air conditioner this time.”

If I hadn’t been so drained, so overwhelmed with my realization, I might’ve smiled.

Sumner pulled back the duvet so I could crawl under the covers, and he laid them over me when I settled in. I watched as he did so with slow but deliberate movements, and when he was finished tucking me in, he curled his hands into fists at his sides.

“You’re a good secretary,” I said to him, andeven just laying down, I could feel my eyelids grow heavy. My pulse thudded in my ears. “And a good friend.”

A surprised emotion flickered across his gaze. “You’re acknowledging it now, huh? That we’re friends?”

Now, I did smile. It was small, but it was there. I knew Sumner was looking at it, just as he always did. “Don’t get used to it.”

His hand coasted from the top of my head to the side, the touch barely there but comforting. The gentleness of it, despite everything, caused the breath in my lungs to quiver. I swallowed hard against the sudden pressure in my throat, shutting my eyes.

At first, I didn’t think I’d be able to sleep, that despite my tiredness, the night’s events would prove too horrifying to even fathom closing my eyes. But the second I closed them, the numbness from before sunk back in now, teeth sinking into my skin.

Sumner’s hand still eased the hair off my face, but darkness swept in fast.I’m in trouble, I thought, just before I fell asleep.

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