by Zee Monodee
She gave him half a smile. “Not so bad.”
She couldn’t bring herself to lie. Not today. In the past weeks, her boss had shown her he wasn’t a tyrant. In fact, he’d proved to be a remarkably understanding human being.
Could it be she’d never given proper credit to the people around her?
He walked into the office and settled in a chair. “Yesterday hit you hard, didn’t it?”
She gulped, remained silent.
His forehead furrowed. “The first time I autopsied a child after my girls came into this world—” he paused, let a few seconds tick by, “—when I reached home, I held them to me and didn’t want to let them go.”
She moistened her lips.
“Did you,” she said, and stopped, then forced herself to take a deep breath. “Were you elated that your child still lived, while someone else’s didn’t?”
His smile struck her as wistful. “Yes.”
The silence between them twisted and wove into a thread of understanding. Parent to parent was how they met each other right then.
William stood, and as per his custom, stopped in the doorway. “You shouldn’t have been alone yesterday.”
“I wasn’t.”
And she wouldn’t be anymore.
“Good,” he said, and left.
She had Jamie with her.
For how long?
Margo closed her eyes and breathed out. Burn the bridge when you get to it, Nolan. Not before.
Never before.
Chapter Ten
A staggering notion had settled inside Margo’s brain, and try as she wanted, she couldn’t shrug it off.
She’d had sex with Jamie. More than once in the past week, but the issue didn’t lie there. No. The problem’s name spelled S-E-X while she had a twelve-year-old daughter who’d already had her period. Had anyone told Emma anything about the birds and bees? Edna Milburn had not even shown her how to use a tampon, so any discussion about sex must not have been on the table.
She remembered her own sex-Ed moment with her mother, who’d told her sexual relationships happened best between two people who loved each other. Full stop. The nuns at her Catholic school had done an even dodgier job of imparting knowledge about the carnal side of relationships—they might’ve wanted all their pupils to become nuns themselves.
So this left her in a dire pickle. Who to ask for help? Polina? The nanny had already told her she, as Emma’s mother, should impart all these notions.
Jamie? No facking way. As a doctor, he would have ‘the talk’ down pat, but this still remained her responsibility.
Goodness gracious! How to break the ice? Dump a box of condoms on the table and ask Emma if she knew what these were? Take out her anatomy textbooks and create a PowerPoint presentation?
Too clinical. She could already imagine Emma rolling her eyes, the expression on her face asking, “Seriously?”
No, they needed to bond, woman to woman, first. Cripes. Her daughter just turned twelve; she shouldn’t be a young woman already.
What did girlfriends do when they met up? She and Cora used to watch Mr. Bean—not an option. Benny Hill? Cringe-worthy. The Full Monty? Did Robert Carlisle even show his private parts in there?
No, still too crude a way to introduce her daughter to the notion of sex. She snorted. Not that Emma would be ignorant of these matters, when even little kids nowadays knew babies came from their mother’s wombs, and not cabbage patches or the stork’s visit as in her days.
Sex, sex, sex—think, Nolan.
The brainwave hit. Sex and The City. Girlfriends bonding, and she clearly remembered the media uproar when one of the women on the show had started extolling the virtues of sex toys.
So that’s how she found herself that Saturday afternoon with a season’s DVD of the show in her hands, waiting for Emma to come down. Jamie had left for practice with the local football team, and Polina had the evening off, so they would be alone at home.
Emma trundled down the stairs and eyed first the laden coffee table, then her mother. “Popcorn and soda? I thought this junk wasn’t supposed to come into our house.”
She shrugged. “Under Polina’s regime, not mine. Come on, sit down. I thought we could watch some stuff together.”
“What sort of stuff?” The tween still had a guarded look on her face.
“Sit down and I’ll start the DVD.”
The jitters made Margo’s hands tremble, and she had to concentrate to place the disk into the player.
The minute the menu screen came up, Emma groaned. Margo turned around to see why she’d had this reaction.
“I draw the line at shoes, Mum. There’s nothing wrong with the way you dress, but you are not making me into a Carrie clone.”
So her daughter thought her mother wanted to change the way she dressed? Perfect—she’d earned a reprieve for the time being. Far from her to change Emma from the confident, slightly tomboyish girl into a fashionista, but a growing woman had to know some basic elements of style. Things Carrie Bradshaw could teach.
“Just watch, okay? That’s all I’m asking,” she said and returned to the sofa.
Emma shrugged. “Fine. Want some popcorn?”
They’d gobbled four episodes before the one featuring the sex toys came on. Margo took a deep breath and steeled herself for what was sure to come.
“The rabbit? Seriously? That’s what they call it?” Emma shook her head before she took a long, loud draw on her straw. “Does it even work?”
“It does.” She clamped a hand to her mouth as the words left her. She hadn’t planned to jump into the fray this way.
Her daughter turned to her. “And you’d know this because ... Oh. My. God. You’ve used one, haven’t you?”
Cora had made her try .... Fire licked at her cheeks, and she lowered her eyes. Here it comes. She had to take the plunge. “Doesn’t beat the real thing, though.”
Emma grabbed a cushion and hugged it to her. “Hmmm. It’s what I think, too.”
What? Margo sat up, back ramrod straight.
“Excuse me? You’re telling me you know—”
The girl patted her hand. “Of course not, Mum. What do you take me for? A total trollop? The bloke’s got to be really worth it before I surrender the goodies.”
“But—”
“I only meant that being with a real man must be way better than being with a lifeless sex toy.”
She let out a sigh.
“It is.” She then grabbed Emma’s hand. “And you know what happens when a man and a woman lie together?”
“Duh, Mum. Of course I do. We do have sex-Ed at school, you know.”
She let out a breath. “Listen, darling, you’re still young, but you’re growing up. There will always be boys wanting to be with you only to get you to sleep with them.”
“I know. That’s why he’s got to stick around for a minimum of three years before he can even see me in my knickers.”
So much sense coming from such a baby in terms of womanhood. But something else jarred her. “Three years? How come?”
“It’s like in the book ‘Think like a man; Act like a lady’. The author says that a man’s got to pass the ninety-day test before you let him into your bed. But that’s for adults. Melissa and I figured that for younger girls, the rule of three years and not three months would amount to the same thing as far as trial periods go.”
Margo shook her head. “Where did you come up with all this?”
“Melissa’s mum has a copy of the book, and she lent it to Melissa. We read it together.”
Right. These were twelve-year-old girls. A far cry from what her life had been like at that age.
“Melissa’s mum is more of a Samantha, though she wants Melissa to be a Charlotte.” Emma scrunched her face. “But you’re a Charlotte, all the way.”
Okay, now she found herself totally lost, and not just because Emma had turned the tables on her. “I beg your pardon?”
The girl giggled. “You wa
nt the romance, Mum. For a man to woo you off your feet. Don’t think you have any of us fooled.”
“Us who?”
“Me, Polina. Even Jamie.”
She choked on her sip of Pepsi. “Pardon me? You discuss me with Jamie?”
Emma rolled her eyes. “Don’t get on your high horse, okay? It’s happened once or twice. He’s a male version of Charlotte, you know.”
“Huh?”
The girl sighed. “Seriously, Mum! Anyhow, he, too, wants the whole hoop-la. In that respect, you’re not so different, actually.”
Perfect. This meant Jamie would get into a relationship for the long haul, maybe for something permanent.
Stop weaving elaborate fantasies, Nolan.
She had to take this thing with him as a one-day-at-a-time kind of deal.
If she ever came to the bridge of durability, she’d cross it—or not—when she got there.
“Do you have a girlfriend, Mum? I never see you go out with any girls. It would do you good to meet like-minded women, you know.”
Margo sighed. And so it went—mentor becoming the mentee. Still, Emma had proved she had a good head on her shoulders, and that’s what should matter.
***
Sex and the City—as well as her daughter—maintained a girl needed a posse of BFFs, or at least one such pal she could open up with. Aside from Cora, Margo had never felt any affinity with another woman.
Or had she never let herself bond with someone else? Had she grieved for her bestie for all this time? No one had ever understood her the way Cora had, and she didn’t think anyone else would ‘get’ her.
But if she tried ... Emma’s words remained with her. The tween wanted her mother to have what existed between her and Melissa. Margo had promised to see what she could do.
The test of this resolution came the following Monday. Kelsey Clegg—famous thriller author who had Margo as a forensics’ consultant for her stories—wanted them to do lunch. Probably to discuss an idea for yet another gruesome murder in one of her books. She had always liked Kelsey, though. Her no-nonsense and blunt, honest approach had placed her in Margo’s good books.
Surprisingly, though, she heard herself saying yes to the invitation. Damn Sex and the City. She didn’t need a BFF, surely. Even the events of the day conspired against her, when she found herself free to take a long lunch.
Her cell phone rang as she got out of her car in front of Jasper’s in Belgravia and handed the valet the key. She smiled at the name on the screen.
“Hey,” she greeted.
“Just checking to see how you were doing,” Jamie said in a low drawl at the other end.
“I’m good.” She paused, and when he didn’t say anything, reckoned he expected her to continue. She still hadn’t gotten used to him calling her every now and then or sending her text messages during the day. “I’m meeting with a friend for lunch, actually.”
“Is that so?”
“Uh, yes.” Lord, could she sound any more like a dimwit? Jamie made mush out of her, and even his voice scrambled her brain. “Kelsey Clegg.”
“Whoa, the author?”
“Uh-huh. Why?”
“Huge fan. I have to restrain myself to not ask you to get an autograph for me.”
She paused at the foot of the steps to reach the porch entrance of the posh restaurant. “I didn’t know you liked her thrillers.”
“There’s a lot we don’t know about each other,” he said. “Yet.”
Warm fuzzies spread from her belly at his last word. Yes, he was in for the long haul.
Bridge, Nolan. That bridge is drawing closer.
Shut up, she chastised the voice.
“Gotta go. Mr. Hawkes is here.” He paused. “See you tonight?”
She nodded, then reckoned he couldn’t see her. Her “yes” came out more like a deranged squeak than the breathy note she wanted to impart. Silly of her.
He cut the call, and she shook herself as she went up the steps and entered the luxurious lobby of the eating establishment. The maître d’ greeted her by her name and directed her to Kelsey’s table before she’d even announced who she’d come to meet.
From one glance at her, no one would warrant that Kelsey Clegg was one of the richest and most well-known authors in the world, right after England’s very own J.K. Rowlings. A child raised in a council estate in Walthamstow, she hadn’t lost sight of her origins even as she’d sky-rocketed to the highest strata of society.
Kelsey smiled when Margo sat down. “There’s a man in your life. I can see it.”
Heat flamed on her cheeks, and she forced herself to take a sip of ice-cold Perrier. “How do you know that?”
“I’m a writer, darling. I notice these things. You have a gleam in your eyes.” Kelsey chuckled. “Go on. Dish.”
The woman had never been so forward with her before. Could it be the notion of a man had broken through the professional ice they’d both cloaked themselves in?
A BFF. She didn’t even have a girlfriend, and though she and Emma had the communication lines open between them, she wouldn’t tell her daughter about her love life. They were parent and child, not bosom buddies.
Something inside her snapped and released an energy she’d felt brimming in her ever since that first night with Jamie. Guess women really were social creatures who needed to bond with like-minded others. Kelsey had never reached out before, but she had today. A fresh start for friendship between them?
“There is a man,” she said.
“And?” Kelsey raised her perfectly arranged thick eyebrows.
Margo winced. “It’s still early days between us.”
“I would think so, what with that glow on your face. Young love, eh?”
“It’s not love ...”
“You sure? Or are you kidding yourself? I’ve known you for many years, Margo, yet I’ve never seen you so flustered.”
“I—” She faltered. “It can’t be love, Kelsey.”
The other woman kept her shrewd grey eyes pinpointed onto her. “Okay, you’re saying it isn’t love, or that it shouldn’t be love?”
Huh?
“That’s not the same thing?”
Kelsey sighed.
“Margo, darling. You’ve never been in love, have you?” She reached out and clasped her hand on the table. “There’s nothing to be scared about. Come on, tell me more about this mystery man.”
She gulped. She couldn’t be afraid, right? She’d built herself from sterner stuff, especially after Harry. A part of her tingled with something like pre-autopsy jitters, but these soothed the more Kelsey talked. Who knew the woman was really such a blabbermouth?
While they placed their orders and until the food arrived, Kelsey kept up with her exposé on love and relationships. Margo let her rattle on, for the first time basking in the certainty that someone else had her back and wanted good things for her.
Is this what they call friendship?
“So,” Kelsey said, a forkful of salad greens halfway between her plate and her mouth. “You’ll give him a chance?”
Margo smiled and nodded. “I will.”
What did she have to lose?
***
Her friend’s words remained with her throughout the unusually quiet afternoon. All hell broke loose in the early evening, though, just when Margo was heading out of the lab. A quadruple murder—a father had killed his family before turning the gun on himself—had them all scrambling for purchase.
She reached home after eleven, exhausted. Shivers racked through her, the aftermath of the adrenaline rush that had taken over at the crime scene. She wanted a hot bath, comfort food ... and Jamie. His arms around her, his solid body holding her weight as she lay her head down on his chest, her ear right where she’d hear his heart beat. She’d seen horror that evening, and she needed the goodness this world had to offer to erase the darkness.
The house beckoned gloomy, not one light on. They must all have gone to bed. Her spirits sank further. Not the appr
opriate time to go wake Jamie up. He’d always come to her until now, and she knew not how to initiate contact between them. Oh, yes, she could breach the distance and kiss him, set the banked fires to soar once again, but getting together before that point? Total chicken.
Kelsey’s words resonated once again in her head. She’d vowed to give Jamie a chance.
But that didn’t mean she had to step out of the comfort zone tonight and seek him out. Some other day, surely, when she didn’t feel like a wrung-out, dirty sock.
She prised the lock open and slipped inside the house. Muffled noise reached her, and she frowned. A soft glow glimmered in the doorway to the front room. Someone had left the TV on?
She tiptoed ahead and stopped on the threshold. Her heart squeezed, and she lost her breath. Sky Sports droned on in the background, the shifting light from the screen casting radiance and shadows on the sleeping, sprawled form of Jamie on her sofa. He’d put his socked feet up onto a cushion on the coffee table, and the remote lay on his chest under his hand.
For long minutes, she stood there watching him, unable to tear her feet from the ground. He must’ve tried to wait up for her, and Jamie being there meant Emma had been looked after double this evening; she thus wasn’t worried about her daughter.
But this man here ... It couldn’t be love, surely. She didn’t do love, didn’t even know what that feeling felt like. True, fondness engulfed her as she gazed on at him, yet more? She had no clue.
Not for the here and now, Nolan. That bridge is still far away in the future.
On quiet, reverent treads, she stepped into the living room and knelt by his side. She gently picked up the remote, still, he startled when his hand landed with a soft plop onto his chest. His eyes flew open, and he stiffened. Then his gaze landed on her and he relaxed, mouth easing into a sleepy smile.
How handsome he looks. Tenderness engulfed her as she smiled, too, and reached out to brush the hair from his forehead. He caught her hand under his and pressed a kiss to her palm.
“What time is it?” he asked in a raspy murmur.
“Almost midnight.” Even her voice had a hushed note to it. “You waited up for me?”