Page 19 of Margo and the Faux Good Luck Beau
I’ve certainly not met a Margo.
She says, “If you’re wondering if I’m lousy at relationships, I’d suggest you survey the guys I’ve dated, but there aren’t many. Celeste calls me a marriage maker. After guys date me they getmarried. Let’s see, there was Darrel who called it off when his high school sweetheart came crawling back. Boyd went on a gap year and got engaged in Australia while we were still dating. Then Jonathan ...” She trails off and the light in her gaze dims.
My jaw lowers as I try to puzzle out how dudes can be so dumb. How a man doesn’t see a good thing when it’s looking him right in the face with big, brown coffee cream eyes, hair made of silk, and curves so luscious I could get lost in them.
“How about you? Any ex-Mrs. Hammers-to-be?”
“None worth noting.” Just Pixie Galaxie who won’t seem to lose my number no matter how many times I block her. I have my mother to blame.
“My friend Juniper tried to get me onto some dating apps, but I got nervous. I was not using a dog park dating app despite what you may have heard earlier.”
“Those women said you don’t have a green thumb either.”
She winces. “I forget to add water. When I was a kid, I always wanted a dog. Instead, my mother got me a Ficus as a test.”
“I take it your plant didn’t make it.”
“You’re suddenly very questiony.” She leaves the square of cake on her plate, having eaten all the frosting.
“Just curious.” I remove the frosting from my slice of cake and set it on the side, devouring the cake in a few bites.
“You can choose whether to believe them or me. But no. I have never killed anyone. I’m better with dogs than plants.” Sliding her plate away, she adds, “It’s not that I’m bad at relationships, it’s just that I’ve never met the one. Maybe there isn’t one.”
It’s then we both look at each other’s cake plates. She ate all the frosting, leaving the perfectly square sponge, and I ate that part and left the frosting in a little pile.
Her eyes flick to mine and then back to our plates.
“Are we cake twins?” Margo’s cheeks turn pink like she’s been warming herself in front of a fire.
“Like when one person eats the cereal and the other drinks the milk?”
“Like when one person eats the cookie part of an Oreo and the other likes the filling.”
I nod. “In that case, it would seem so.”
She laughs, filling me in such a way that a switch flips inside. Whereas before it almost felt like I was tap dancing at a ballet, now I breathe easy. Maybe we have our own choreography. It’s strangely easy to talk to her. Not that talking to women is normally hard for me, but she has a way of making me feel at ease. Like I can say anything and her mind and heart will remain open. She intuitively knows that my silence isn’t a bad thing.
Some people want to hear the sound of their own voice. Others are content to listen. I have a hunch she needs someone with open ears more so than having a strong opinion on every move she makes.
I clear my throat, about to tell her I had fun and goodnight when Hag One and Hag Two fly down the hallway on a pair of broomsticks with a shared cackle.
Margo freezes like a deer in headlights. Only instead of a single semi bearing down at her, it’s as if her mother and sister race to see who can plow into her first.
“Save yourself,” she whispers.
The desperate plea in her eyes makes me tuck her into the alcove behind the sitting area and out of sight. We’re close, our arms and legs touching, sending an electric thrill through me, a powerful charge, much like when we were dancing.
I say, “I’m not going anywhere.”
“You don’t have to do this. The jig is up. They’ll take you down.”
I incline my head. “I’d like to see them try.”
“You’ve been warned.”
I’m all too familiar with women like this. “Don’t show fear. They thrive off it.”
Margo lets out a long sigh. “I could just tell the truth. That I made up that we’re engaged. Calculating which would be worse, I came up with cutting my losses and letting them believe the lie. Does that make me a horrible person?”
