The Summer of Sunshine and Margot - Susan Mallery Page 0,56
it was more than that. In the nanosecond before the fire was extinguished, she felt an answering tug low in her belly. A need that shocked her with its existence as much as its intensity.
No, she told herself. No, no and no. Not Declan. She loved her job, loved the dynamic the three of them had. Getting involved with him would ruin everything. She wasn’t that girl anymore—she refused to be. She wanted more than a quick hump while Connor was sleeping. She wanted something real and lasting and important.
She forced her attention back to the present moment. Declan looked as shocked and concerned as she felt.
“I have Phoebe’s number if you change your mind,” she said, hoping her fake good humor could pass for the real thing.
“I’m ignoring you.”
She waved and left. She hurried toward her bedroom and firmly shut the door behind her. She sat on the edge of the bed and told herself nothing had happened. Absolutely nada. And even if that wasn’t true, she was going to pretend it was. Fake it until you make it was a time-honored tradition for her. It had worked in the past and she was determined it would work now. It had to. There was just too much on the line.
* * *
“I haven’t seen you in a couple of days.”
Margot looked up and saw Alec coming into the kitchen. It was dinnertime, two days after her uncomfortable revelation.
“I’ve been in hiding,” she admitted with a shrug. “Licking my wounds, so to speak.”
His expression of concern sharpened. “What did my mother do?”
“Nothing but be gracious and forgive me. I was totally wrong about that dinner. Instead of helping her, I turned her into a spectacle. The whole idea was a colossal mistake and it’s all on me. We’re back on track now, though, and things are going well.”
Which was a relief, but didn’t erase the previous mistake.
“Maybe you’re being a little hard on yourself,” he offered.
“No, I’m not, but don’t worry. I won’t wallow. We’re moving forward. In a way, I wonder if messing up the way I did has made your mother trust me more. I don’t know. I hope so.” She smiled. “And that, I promise, is the end of the emotional dump. I was about to take the casserole Edna defrosted out of the oven. Want to join me for dinner?”
“I’d like that.” He grinned. “I’ll admit I was drawn to the kitchen by the delicious smell. What are we having?”
“Something with chicken and pasta and a cheese sauce. I’ve already made a big salad to counteract the richness.”
While he opened a bottle of wine, she set the kitchen table, then pulled out the casserole and set it on a trivet. They sat across from each other and she passed him a serving spoon.
It was nearly seven and dark outside. The fog had stuck around all day and caused the temperature to drop into the fifties, which was practically an arctic blast for Los Angeles. Bianca was out, the staff had gone home. It was just the two of them in the huge house.
“I’m impressed my mother stayed to talk to you,” Alec said as he slid the casserole dish toward her. “Usually she cuts and runs. I didn’t expect to see her for a week.”
“I’m glad she did stay so I could figure out what went wrong and my part in it.” Margot thought about how she’d changed the lesson plans and what was going to be different going forward. “She’s challenging. Such an unexpected combination of competence and insecurity.” She pushed the casserole dish in his direction. “How is it having her living in your house?”
He shrugged. “Easier than I thought it was going to be. We’re mostly on separate floors and she’s gone most evenings.” He smiled. “I will admit I was worried about having her here. It’s been a long time since we were roommates.”
“You were barely a teenager when you went to live with your grandparents, weren’t you?”
“Yes. She took me to Australia that summer before boarding school. Winter for them, of course. We must have been gone six or eight weeks. She bought an old used car and we drove everywhere. My job was to constantly tell her ‘left, left’ so she stayed on the correct side of the road.”
“That’s right. They drive like the British, don’t they? I’m not sure I could do it.”
“It would be challenging,” he admitted. “But she did fine. When we got home, I packed up