Page 90 of Caught in a Storm
“Go on. Close ’em.”
Robyn does as she’s told, and Lawson Daniels kisses her. His lips are soft. Sensationally so. She’d have thought the smatterings of beard around his chin and mouth would be bristly, but they, too, are soft. She opens her mouth, and so does he, and the tips of their tongues touch. His fingers graze her collarbone and then gently touch a spot on her throat where her pulse beats, and all she can think is Holy shit.
He tells her goodbye, gives her cheek a little caress, touches his forehead to hers. Then she watches as he walks into the private airport.
Chapter 49
And now it’s Sunday, early afternoon.
After Lawson’s arrival on Friday evening, which was followed the next morning by a star-studded pickup basketball game slash Burnt Flowers reunion in the driveway, the house in Roland Park and the one-bedroom apartment above its detached garage felt like a gateless compound. People kept walking by, stopping to look, shielding their eyes with their hands, taking crappy iPhone pictures.
“I think this is the place,” they’d say. “Right?”
They’d note the basketball abandoned in the shrubs and the old Mercedes station wagon in the driveway and comment on how normal it all looked, not at all like somewhere musicians and Oscar nominees would hang out.
“It’s just, like, a house, though.”
As Lawson predicted, pictures of him arriving at BWI airport and then hanging out downtown started showing up across social media immediately on Friday night. Along with the shot of Lawson and Beth and a Natty Boh, the most liked and shared of those images was of Lawson at the Horse You Came In On, pointing at a sticker over the bar that read, I Got Crabs in Baltimore.
People put two and two together and assumed he was there to see Margot, because why else would he be in Baltimore? Nikki was spotted, too—at the train station, then later in the car on the way to Robyn and Aaron’s. Some tourists spotted her in the backseat as two teenagers cleaned the SUV’s windshield at an intersection. The weekend team at HypeReport posted a story called “Drama in Charm City?” Other sites reported that, according to anonymous friends and representatives, the actress Willa Knight was “devastated.” She was also rumored to be in the running for a part in Marvel’s upcoming franchise Impossible Man. The Internet agreed that she was perfect for it.
This morning, Aaron pulled two roller bags out to his new Audi. The cordial charade of being married, which was all for Caleb’s benefit, is over now, so there’s no reason for him to stay. He’ll crash with a divorced friend for a week or so until his new apartment is ready. He put a deposit down on the place last month, so it has basically just been waiting for him. Aaron said goodbye to his wife, gave her a hug, then high-fived Caleb before giving him a hug, too. “I’m not saying goodbye to you, Cay,” he said, “because I’ll see you, right? Maybe we can join one of those pickup basketball leagues down in Patterson Park. You and me.” He stopped his car on the way out to tell a few randoms who were loitering near the mailbox that there was nothing left to see. “The famous people are gone.”
That wasn’t entirely true. Margot was up in the apartment with Billy, and she still is. They’re on the couch together; the Orioles pregame show is on TV. Margot is looking at pictures from the Internet that Poppy keeps sending her.
Mum, you went to a farmer’s market?
Margot is wearing her Target pajamas, and her bare feet are tucked under Billy’s thigh. Billy is watching the television but not really seeing it. He feels sick to his stomach, because, unbelievably, he’s about to tell Margot that she has to go.
Last night was another one for his pretend time-stopping machine. She told him the story of how she sent Nikki and Axl Albee away. How she stood in the driveway and watched them climb into the big black SUV and drive off. How Nikki looked back over her shoulder, like people do in movies when they’re being arrested.
“What are you gonna do now?” Billy asked.
Margot had her head on his shoulder at the time. They were sitting on the same couch they’re sitting on now. “Maybe just be with you,” she replied, and the joy of being chosen was so powerful that Billy allowed himself to go with it for the remainder of the night, despite knowing that “just being with him” was far less than Margot deserved.
Billy clears his throat. “Margot,” he says.
She looks up from her phone. Her hair falls across her eyes, which is unfair.
“You’re my dream girl,” he says. “I haven’t used that term until now, because it’s ridiculous, and it makes us sound like kids. And we’re not. But that’s what you are. You’re my dream girl.”
She removes her feet from beneath his legs and sits up.
“But I’m not your dream,” he says.
“What? How do you know what my dream is?”
“Because I’ve read about it. Because it’s common knowledge, and because I’ve known you for twenty years. Your dream is to make music. To be in a band. It has been since you were a kid.”
“I was in a band,” she says. “I made music.”
“And you’re not done,” he says. “Not even close. If the last couple of weeks haven’t shown you that, you’re out of your mind. Maybe it’s with Burnt Flowers again. Axl sucks, but he’s not wrong about how big that could be for you. For everyone. Or maybe it’s a new band. I don’t know. You’ve got the songs for it, the ability. Either way, none of that’s gonna happen here. Not in Baltimore. I love this place, but it’s not big enough. Not for you. You can’t just hide here, Margot. I won’t let you.”
She looks around the apartment. Billy does, too, and takes in the embarrassing mess of it all, cluttered and temporary.
“You want me to leave?” she asks.
“No,” he says. “Not at all. But I’ll never forgive myself if you don’t.”
