Page 71 of Caught in a Storm
“Oh,” says Caleb. “I guess I didn’t think of it like that.”
“You love her?” The fire reflects off Robyn’s eyes, which are watering again.
He hasn’t told Margot that he loves her. He hasn’t told anyone that he loves her. But isn’t it obvious? “Of course I do,” he says.
“Her her?” says Robyn. “The real her? You love her?”
Billy nods into the fire.
“Maybe she loves you, too,” says Caleb. A burned-up log crumbles. “I mean, isn’t that why we’re all here in the first place? Because I was right? I said if she got the chance to meet you, she’d like you?” Caleb leans forward. “You have any idea how many pictures there are on the Internet of Margot frowning? Believe me, I know. I investigated. Thousands. And now every time I see her, she’s smiling. That’s because of you, Dad. Looks aren’t everything. Money either. I mean, yeah, his jacket is dope as ffff…”
Billy sighs as his son stops himself from saying the f-word. “It isn’t as simple as that, Cay.”
“He hurt her,” says Caleb. “Remember? Like, famously. Him showing up now doesn’t change that. Just because he’s in movies and cheesy watch commercials doesn’t make him a good person. It definitely doesn’t make him better than you.”
Billy’s heart is capable of at least a small swell now. He reaches over, squeezes Caleb’s knee. He wishes he could believe him, because it sounds like something that should be true, the way his Lessons in Art and Manhood should all be true. Billy doesn’t believe him, though. And it’s not necessarily for the obvious reasons. Maybe Margot does love Billy. Or if she doesn’t love him yet, maybe she could, someday. Maybe she’s happier now than she was before she met him. What worries Billy, though, are Margot’s own words.
“First loves brand you, Billy. They burn themselves on you forever.”
Billy thinks about Robyn all the time. He’s not still in love with her, but the cumulative effect of their history together has created something very close to love. He gets nervous and tongue-tied sometimes when he sees her after a long spell of not seeing her. He thinks she’s beautiful, and he admires her for her determination and success, and he roots for her from a distance. If Margot thinks about Lawson half as much as Billy thinks about Robyn…well, he could be in real trouble.
Chapter 41
“So, what’s your plan, exactly?” she asks. “You wanna talk first, or should I just take these clothes off?”
Lawson’s still at the kitchen table, smiling. The purple mug of tea steams between his hands. “Well, I hadn’t thought it through totally. I took a bloody commercial flight, for fuck’s sake. But if you’re game for option B, just give me a minute to freshen up.”
Margot shakes her head as she eases into the seat across from him. “I can’t believe you just showed up here.”
Lawson smells his tea. “This is gonna be dreadful, isn’t it? She had no idea what she was doing.”
Margot’s phone rings. She checks the screen, then sets it between them so Lawson can see that their daughter is calling.
“Probably just wishing us well,” he says.
When the ringing stops, a text arrives. mum you there? is dad there? WTF!
“All right, here goes,” Lawson says. “Wish me luck.” He takes a sip of his tea and immediately contorts his face. “What’s the matter with this country? Is it really that difficult? Here, I’ll make us some proper cups.”
As her ex-husband goes to the cupboard and starts rummaging like he owns the place, Margot takes a moment to check him out. She’s seen him a handful of times since their divorce because they share a child. He missed both Poppy’s high school and college graduations, though, because he was shooting movies in far-flung places, so her visual references for nearly a decade have been limited to screens, magazine pages, and billboards. He’s taken his jacket off, so he’s just in jeans and a T-shirt now. There’s a chain around his neck, picked by a stylist, she’s sure. He’s leaner, more muscular than when they were married. She was only half kidding about taking her clothes off. Regardless of how much time has gone by, she knows that there’s a part of this man that assumed she would simply jump into his arms.
“Oh, well, looky here,” he says. “Robyn was holding out. Saucers, sugar cubes. I’ll get us sorted.”
He didn’t ask if she wants tea, which she doesn’t, but he’s making it for her anyway, because he’s Lawson. He fiddles with some knobs on the stove top and then leans on the counter, checking her out. “You look good, Mar.”
“Stop calling me that, Danny.”
He laughs. When they were together, they rarely called each other “Margot” or “Lawson,” because those aren’t their real names. It seemed more intimate to be Mar, Margie, Dan, or Danny. And then he went and fucked a girl in a crop top from Long Island named Nicole Schwartz, and intimacy went straight out the window.
“Fair play,” he says. “Miss Margot Hammer, you look lovelier than you ever have.”
“You look pretend.”
He clutches his chest like he’s taken a bullet. “Ouch, love. But you’re not wrong.” A twirl, a little bow. “This is the uniform required. I do what I have to.”
The kettle screams, and Lawson startles. “Is this some sort of bloody super-stove?”
He prepares their tea in silence, concentrating. She watched him perform this ritual untold times when they were together. He finds some cream in the fridge, drops a bunch of sugar cubes in hers, places the cups on saucers. In lieu of what he’d call “biscuits,” he settles for a few Nilla Wafers, then returns to the table.
