Page 98 of Love and Other Champagne Problems

We’re not meant to be the main leads in rom-coms,Margot. Not everyone is meant for love. You have to see that.

Panic fluttered through me, the first real emotion I’d felt in days. I couldn’t even put a name to thewantingin my rib cage, but all I knew was that it felt as I could’ve collapsed under the pressure. I surely couldn’t be made for love, because I couldn’t even muster up a single tear at the funeral of the woman I loved more than my own parents.

Without warning, Sumner wrapped his arms around me, tugging me flush to his chest, almost as if he could read my mind. I’d never considered myself a dainty girl who could fall into the arms of someone for comfort, but here I was now. I felt small against him, consumed, and for a moment, I gave into the desire and melted into him.Sumner, Sumner, Sumner. The scent of the cologne in the fabric of his shirt calmed me somewhat. I wanted to burrow into his chest and never emerge.

The darkness was still there, but it was like he was trying to extinguish it with the warmth exuding from him. I let him try. “How can I help you, Margot?” The words were just a step above a mumbled whisper, and I could feel them vibrate in his chest. “Tell me, and I’ll do it.”

I wanted to tell him that he’d done plenty over the past few days, enough to last a lifetime. I appreciated everything he’d done since Nancy’s passing—ordering me room service, staying with me until I fell asleep for the night, holding my hand as long as I needed it. Why couldn’t I tell him any of that? Why couldn’t I just let myself be vulnerable with him?

“Do you have a sister?” I asked into hischest.

I could practically feel Sumner’s confusion. “What?”

“Do you have a sister?” I tightened my hold on him. “Tell me.”

“I do. She’s older—in her thirties.” Sumner’s hand smoothed up and down my back in slow, lulling movements. “Why?”

Because I want Aaron’s voice out of my head. “Any brothers?”

“No. No brothers. I think that’s why my mom thought I’d be a girl, since she already had one. Why are you asking?”

“I never ask questions about you,” I whispered, a burning popping into my eyes. “I should ask more questions.”

Sumner’s voice grew gentle, mimicking the touch along my spine. “Stop, Margot.”

“Stop what?”

“We learn things about each otherin time. That’s how relationships work.” Sumner pulled away enough to tip his head down toward me. “You’re not running out of time with me. I’m here. I promised, remember?”

I drew away from his chest and sniffed, though there were still no tears in my eyes. The burning, though, still remained. “You did promise,” I said thickly, fingers once more finding their way to my vest’s buttons. “I should’ve asked Nancy more questions.”

Sumner once more caught at my fingers and stopped them from ruining the fabric. “I’m sure you asked her plenty, Margot. And besides, Nancy’s the kind of woman who only tells you what she wants to. Even if you didn’task, she’d have told you something if she wanted you to know it.”

He was right, of course. And if I asked her about something she didn’t want to share, she never would. She’d never be vulnerable unless she chose to be, and even with me, that was rarely.

“Tell me what you need. If you need space—if you need me to call an Uber and let you go back to the hotel alone—I can do that. I don’t want to, but if it’s what you need, I will.”

Alone. If Sumner hadn’t been here today, I would’ve been alone during her service. Mourning one of the most important people in my life… all by myself. I well and truly would’ve gone insane then; I just knew it. And it wasn’t necessarily the fact that I wanted to be alone because I didn’t want to be around anyone—I wanted to be alone to keep these feelings from lashing out.

But another small cry echoed in my head.Please, please, please don’t leave me. Don’t let me push you away.

Nancy had never been vulnerable with me, who was one of the most important people in her life, and I didn’t want to be that way with Sumner. I realized, much like being alone, it was a choice. A hard choice, because it was easier to push someone away, to run from anything uncomfortable. But Sumner was right. That was how relationships worked.

I twisted my fingers in his hand so that they could squeeze his. I tried to imagine this moment without a hand to hold, without a comfort, and thinking about the alternative helped me realize how grateful Iactually was for his presence. Even if I felt like a timebomb about to explode. “I don’t want you to leave,” I murmured. “Could you go pull the car around, though? I just want a few minutes… with Nancy.”

“Of course,” he answered with so much tenderness in the two words. With his free hand, he dragged the pad of his thumb along the top of my cheekbone. “Come out to me whenever you’re ready.”

He waited for me to pull my hand back first, but before I did, I leaned forward and kissed him. It was probably inappropriate, given our location, but I had never cared about propriety. It was a short kiss, an assurance where my words were lacking. A promise, of sorts.I’m here. I’m not going anywhere either.I squeezed my eyes shut and pulled back.

I half expected the pastor to remain and speak with anyone who wanted to talk to him, but he must’ve realized that there was no one to talkto.I was sure my stone-faced expression during his sermon left him not really wanting to talk to me, either. But the funeral hall was completely empty now, with no sound to echo off the walls.

I walked up to Nancy’s portrait and urn, staring at the wooden lacquered box with her name engraved into it. The date of her birth and death seemed impossibly far apart, nearly a century. And if the birth date was correct, it made her a year older than she always said she was. Ninety-one instead of ninety. An ancient lady. Not anymore.

“You’re such a coward, you know that?” I said to herurn, to the burnt up remains of her just barely hidden from view. “Making me go to Annalise’s wedding alone. You were the one I was supposed to sit and talk to.”

I stared at her urn, trying to imagine what she’d say in response to that—something snippy, I was sure—but her voice was quiet in my mind.

“Then again, it’s totally like you to mar the beautiful day of the Conan wedding. It’s something I would’ve done.”

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