“Why not?”
“Because it was too good to be true. I didn’t deserve it.” Shut your goddamn mouth, Valentini! What the hell are you doing?
She studied me a moment. “Why not?”
“Christ, Margot. Can we drop this, please? I really don’t want to talk about it. You won’t understand, and it has nothing to do with you.” And I can’t start telling you things. I just can’t.
“But I—”
“Drop it, I said! Steph and I are none of your fucking business!” And because my temper was threatening to get the best of me and I had a habit of running my asshole mouth when that happened, I jumped out of my chair and stomped off.
I had no idea where I was going, I just wanted some distance between us. Marching past other vendors in a blind rage, I strode through a public parking lot and took off down the street.
Goddammit, why did she have to get into it with me? I’d been in such a good mood today. Happy, even. Why did she have to ruin it by prodding at my pain with a fucking hot poker? Just because I was fucking her didn’t mean she had the right to ask me about my feelings. She and I weren’t going to do feelings—it was sex for the sake of sex and that was it! We didn’t need to complicate things by talking about our pasts or our pain or what was missing from our lives. The moment we started to do that meant this was turning into something else, something I didn’t want and she didn’t need.
Taking a few deep breaths, I stopped walking and locked my hands behind my head. Waited for my heart rate to slow. For my agitation to ease. For my raw edges to smooth over.
After a few minutes, I was calm.
And ashamed of myself.
I was the one who’d said too much. What was it about her that made me spill my guts like a slaughtered animal? I couldn’t fucking do that. And again, I’d gotten mad at myself and taken it out on her. When would I learn that lashing out at people who were trying to help only made me feel worse? Margot didn’t have any idea how guilty I felt about Steph’s death or why I felt responsible. And I wasn’t about to tell her—not only would it burden her unnecessarily and cast a pall over what was supposed to be an uncomplicated good time, but it was too big a betrayal. Sex was one thing, but our connection had to remain purely physical.
Friendly was fine, but romantic was pushing it, and intimate was out of the question. The less she knows about me, the better.
I had to be more careful. For both of us.
On my way back, I stopped to buy some flowers for Margot. Unsure what kind of blooms were her favorite, I chose a small arrangement of blue hydrangeas because the color reminded me of her eyes. They were nicely wrapped in brown paper and tied with twine, but when I saw her sitting alone at our table, looking a little nervous and a lot sad, I felt like I should have bought a bigger bunch.
I walked around the stand and dropped down beside her chair, balanced on the balls of my feet. “Hey.”
“Hey.” She kept her eyes on her hands, which rested in her lap.
“These are for you.” I handed her the flowers. “I’m sorry.”
She looked at the bouquet and then at me. Took a breath. “Me too.”
“You’ve got nothing to be sorry about.”
“I do, I do…” She shook her head. “I shouldn’t have bugged you about what you said. I’ve never lost anyone like you have, and I don’t know what it’s like. I’ve never even loved anyone like you have.” Her eyes met mine. “I have no business trying to give you advice. I don’t blame you for getting mad.”
“It wasn’t you I was mad at. I know it seemed like it,” I said quickly when I saw the doubt on her face, “but I promise you it wasn’t. I was mad at myself and let it get the best of me. I apologize.”
“Apology accepted.” She smiled and then buried her nose in the flowers she held. “I love hydrangeas. Thank you.”
“I’m impressed you know what they are.”
Over the blooms, her matching eyes glittered. “Good.”
“The color matches your eyes. That’s why I chose them.”
She lowered the bouquet and looked at me in surprise, her cheeks going pink. Her mouth opened slightly like she might say something, but then she closed it again.
Looking at her, my heart started to beat a little too quickly for comfort, so I checked my watch and saw it was coming up on three. “Market’s about to open up. You ready?”
“Yes.” Smiling, she set the bouquet gently under the table and stood. “What should I do?”
“Don’t let them walk away without buying something.” I straightened up, my joints cracking.
She grinned. “Easy peasy. I could sell water to a drowning man, remember?”
“I remember,” I said. “And I’m counting on it.”
She gave me a thumbs up as a few people approached the stand. I watched her charm them, smiled and shook hands when she introduced me, and gave her a high five after they left with a bag full of eggs and vegetables.