- Margot -
By two in the morning, most of the older guests had retired to their respective hotel rooms. Many of the younger ones had done the same, too, though I suspected for entirely different reasons.
When I noticed that the band was busting out their grand finale playlist, I stepped outside onto the large balcony that overlooked the manicured grounds of the country club.
The navy sky was filled with stars, and while I couldn’t make out the individual trees in the distance, I could see them swaying collectively in the gentle breeze.
I closed my eyes and inhaled the fresh air, relishing the way it cooled my nose and lungs. Deep down, I knew I’d have to go to the city if I was going to seriously pursue a career in advertising, so there was no telling when I might enjoy another clean, suburban breath.
Then again, maybe the crisp air in Central Park would surprise me as I traveled to meetings with other top ad execs or lunches with the bohemian roommate I could only hope for. After all, I’d learned in college that having a free-spirited roommate was good for me. I responded well to peer pressure and enjoyed giving in to the frivolity I so easily resisted when left to my own devices.
“Hey, stranger.”
Landon’s deep, dreamy voice interrupted my drunken train of thought, and I opened my eyes as I turned towards him.
He was leaning against the stone railing, his tie hanging loosely around his neck and his hair wet with sweat.
“If it isn’t the Dancing Queen himself.”
He shrugged. “Once the funk breaks out, I break out. You know that.”
“Some things never change.”
“I thought I might find you out here scoffing more cake.”
“Sorry to disappoint,” I said, “but I already tried every tier.”
“And?”
“The strawberry one was the best.”
“I liked the chocolate myself,” he said. “But you’ve always been partial to strawberries.”
“Loyalty is a virtue in my book.”
“Didn’t you get a strawberry cake for your eighteenth birthday party?”
I shot him a look. He’d never mentioned that day since. “I did, yeah. I can’t believe you remember that.”
He fixed his eyes on mine before shifting his weight so his face dropped into the shadows. “I remember everything about that day.”
I took a sip of my drink.
“Fondly.”
A tense silence settled between us, interrupted only by the breeze.
“So just drinking alone then?” he asked. “Not eating?”
“Isn’t that more socially acceptable?”
“I think anything goes at weddings,” he said. “Especially when you’re the groom’s little sister.”
“Or the best man.”
“I don’t know. I think the best man has a few more boundaries that need to be respected.”
I wasn’t sure, but I could swear I felt his eyes drip down my body. “What brought you out here?”
“I saw you go,” he said. “And I sensed you might be feeling…”
“What?”
“Fitful.”
“Fitful?”
“Anxious?” he guessed.
“You needn’t try to read me. I’ve been told it’s a difficult thing to do.”
“Not for me. I can read you like a book.”
I folded my arms. “Is that so?”
“For better or for worse.”
“What am I thinking now, then?”
“You’re thinking…how is this guy so attractive and charming all at once? And boy, am I having a better time out here now that he showed up.”
One corner of my mouth twitched.
“I’m right, aren’t I?”
“Not exactly,” I said, though all of those things were true.
“Enlighten me, then.”
I sighed. “I was wondering about my own happily ever after.”
“What about it?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “I guess I’m just eager to get there already.”
“It doesn’t work like that, babe.”
“Babe?”
“Sorry.”
I wasn’t. Just surprised.
“That was the drink talking.”
“Consider yourself officially pardoned,” I said, knowing he’d never understand how much that slip made my night.
“My point is, nobody gets to jump to the happily ever after bit. Not if it’s a good one, anyway.”
“I’m listening.”
“Take Cinderella,” he said.
“My favorite of all the princesses.”
“No shit. I remember the day you got your blue Cinderella dress caught in the spokes of your bike.”
My face fell. “That was the worst.”
“You taught me an important lesson that day.”
“What lesson?” I asked.
“That when it comes to women, clothes are not just clothes.”
I smiled. “You’re welcome.”
“Anyway, the only reason Cinderella can appreciate her ecstatic bliss when the shoe fits is because of all the shit she went through to get there. It’s the contrast that makes her happiness possible.”
“I don’t know,” I said. “I think I could still enjoy myself if I jumped right to the end.”
He shook his head. “Not a chance. That’s like reading the last page of a book first.”
I cocked my head and considered his analogy.
“Please don’t tell me you do that.”
“I’ve done it a few times,” I said. “But only when I have absolutely no intention of reading the whole book.”
“It spoils the whole story.”
“I suppose it does.”
“You suppose correctly,” he said. “Besides, today is your brother’s big day. You’ll get your turn. A girl like you? No question.”
“What do you mean a girl like me?”
“I mean a girl with everything going for her.”
Why did he always have to say the right thing instead of saying too much? Or better, saying what I wanted him to say? “It’s good to see you,” I said softly. “No one picks me up like you can.”
He stepped towards me so his face came out of the shadows. “It’s good to see you, too, Margot.”
My eyes fell to his lips, and my body burned at the thought of having them on me.
“I didn’t realize how much I missed you.”
It felt good to hear him say that. It gave me hope that he might come around. That he might even want me back. Someday. Like I wanted him. With everything.
I wanted to tell him I’d missed him, too, but I didn’t think I could without my voice cracking. Plus, he already knew. How could he not? He must’ve recognized the longing in my eyes, the way I startled at his touch. Especially if he could read me the way he claimed he could.
After all, I did more than pine for him. I craved him. I ached. I was sick with something I was convinced only his touch could cure.
But even then— with him so close every hair on my body stood at attention— he felt just out of reach. As if behind glass. And even after all these years, I feared my heart would never learn to tolerate the strain caused by that feeling.
“Well, well, well,” my brother said, his shoes clacking across the stone tiles. “If it isn’t my two favorite people.”