#SoBasic

by Sara Celi

“Wow, what a greeting.” Nick had glassy eyes, red cheeks, and slurred speech. He’d been drinking. No surprise there.

  “It’s not a greeting,” I retorted. “You shouldn’t be here.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I don’t want you to be.” I crossed my arms. I didn’t have to justify myself to anyone, and especially not to Nick. No way. He lost his right to an explanation from me a long time ago.

  “Didn’t your elementary teachers ever tell you not to answer a question with the word because, Margot?” He placed his hand on the wall and braced himself against it. “That’s bad English.”

  “I don’t care. We’re not friends, Nick, or anything else.”

  “That’s too bad.” He looked me up and down. “I heard you’re on the mend, and I’m glad.”

  “Um … thanks.” I glanced back at the hotel room door, half expecting James to walk through it. He didn’t. “But really, you need to go.”

  “Margot, you haven’t heard why I came here.”

  I shrugged. I didn’t really want to know, though I had a few hundred guesses.

  “I know you hate me.” Nick closed his eyes, exhaled a long sigh then reopened them. “I deserve that. I probably deserve more than that.”

  “You hurt me. A lot.” I uncrossed my arms and threw up a hand. “Breaking up with you was one of the worst things that happened to me, and honestly it took me a long time to get over it. I wasn’t sure I would ever be the same. In a lot of ways, I wasn’t.”

  He cocked his head. “And I deserve all your anger. I was a jerk, and that’s why I’m here.”

  I studied him for a long moment, remembering what we’d gone through.

  “No,” I finally said. “Whatever you wanted out of this weekend, you’re not going to get it.”

  “But, Margot—”

  “Stop. You’re making this worse.” I placed my hand on the doorknob. “Please, Nick, go. Just leave.”

  “How many times do I have to say I’m sorry?” He took a step toward me. “How many times do I have to ask for your forgiveness? I screwed up when I ended this relationship, Margot, and I know that now. I was stupid, an idiot. I let you slip away, and I shouldn’t have done that. I just … don’t you remember what we had?”

  I sucked in a deep breath. “What we had is gone, Nick.”

  “No, that’s not true,” he said. “What we had still matters. It has always mattered.”

  He grabbed my arm and pulled me against him. His lips crushed against mine, and he held me to him in a long kiss. His mouth claimed me, as if by one action he could crush the past and allow us to start again.

  And I was disgusted. This wasn’t right. At all.

  It didn’t fit. Not any more—and I knew that with every cell in my body. Whatever had sparked the attraction between Nick and me wouldn’t come back in the space of one kiss, and it wouldn’t reignite in a desperate moment like this.

  It was dead.

  I yanked my mouth from his and pushed him away. “No. No, Nick. No.” I made sure my gaze locked with his, and I contemplated following up my emphatic protest with a hard slap. But, I didn’t. He just needed to leave. Now. “I don’t want this anymore. I don’t want you.”

  “What do you want?”

  “Something else. Someone else. Not this.”

  A grin spread across his face. “Why don’t I believe that?”

  For the second time, he locked me into his embrace. This time, he pinned me against the wall next to the door and kissed me with a force I hadn’t felt before, as if I were a target, and he’d zeroed in on me with all his might. He held me to the wall as his mouth claimed mine again, even as I struggled and fought him.

  This was a Nick Valenti I didn’t know. A Nick Valenti I didn’t recognize. A Nick Valenti that disgusted me.

  “You’re awful,” I said when I finally got away. I slapped him as hard as I could across the jaw He winced, but it still didn’t seem to faze him. “How dare you?”

  “I want you back, Margot. I’ve been trying to let you know that. Don’t you want to give us another chance?”

  And this was also how James found us, when he opened the door of our hotel room.

  “I heard a commotion, and....what’s going on?” James said.

  Nick stepped away from me as soon as the door opened, and I gaped at James, wondering what I looked like. I must have been a mess of rumpled dress, crazy hair, smeared makeup, and shock.

  Not exactly my best look.

  “Oh, I was telling Margot I’m glad she didn’t hurt herself.” Nick straightened himself up then adjusted his tie. A large stripe of red ran across his right cheek.

  James eyed us. “Looks like you were doing more than just making sure Margot was okay.”

  Nick scoffed. “Aren’t you only the fake boyfriend who came here for a free Florida vacation? What do you care?”

  “I care plenty, you asshole.” James turned to me. “Margot, did anything happen out here that you didn’t want?”

  Plenty. Plenty happened.

  “Yes, but I’m fine.” I smoothed my dress, then limped away from the wall and closer to the door. “It’s—”

  “She and I were just getting reacquainted.” Nick shoved his hands into his tuxedo pockets. “Nothing to worry about, dickhead.”

  “He’s not a dickhead.” I glared at my ex-boyfriend. “And we’re finished here, Nick. Don’t call me again. Don’t talk to me again. And most of all, don’t you ever try to kiss me again.” I turned to James. “Now, where were we?”

  I hobbled closer to the door, and Nick grabbed my arm. “Margot, I don’t think—”

  “Stop it.” I lurched away from his grasp. “Whatever you think gives you the right to do this, you’re wrong. This ends tonight.” I narrowed my eyes at him. “And if you don’t leave in the next thirty seconds, I’m calling the police.” I paused so he’d understand the gravity of all this. “I mean it.”

  James put a hand on my shoulder. “She does. And I mean it too.”

  Nick regarded us for a moment.

  “Okay,” he finally said. “I get it.” He took his hands out of his pockets and raised his hands. “I’ll step away. I thought something could be salvaged, but maybe you’re right. Maybe it can’t.” He backed a few steps away from us and moved down the hallway. “I’m sorry, Margot. It was my mistake.”

  James and I stood at the doorway, watching Nick until he got on the elevator. Once he did, we made our way back into the hotel room and shut ourselves away from the rest of the world one more time.

  But the mood in that room had changed. A lot.

  “Nick’s crazy,” I tried. “Forceful. Not the guy I remembered, and I’m sorry you had to see that.”

  “See what?” James sat in the paisley chair across from the bed. “I didn’t notice anything.”

  “Come on. You did.” I sat on the bed, positioning myself across from him. “Don’t act like you didn’t.”

  He spread a hand. “It’s really none of my business, Margot.”

  What the heck?

  “None of your business?” I practically screeched. My thoughts began to race, and my heartbeat sped up, until it felt like it would burst of my chest. Something about his reply also struck the deepest pit of my stomach, and the control I’d barely maintained over the last few minutes disappeared. “What in the world do you mean, none of your business?”

  “Just that—”

  “No, I’m not ready for you to answer that question. I need you to listen to me, because I have something to say, and I’m tired of holding it inside.” I stared at him, realizing that I had finally reached the point of no return with this guy. He needed to make his intentions clear, or I was going to have to walk away for good. “You know what? I don’t get you. I don’t understand you at all. This whole time, since the dead battery, you’ve been sending me nothing but mixed messages.”

  He gaped at me.

  “What are we?” I motioned at the space between us. “What is this? You
need to tell me right now. Tonight. Are we friends? Coworkers. Neighbors? What? Because I’m having a hard time figuring it all out, and I’m sick of it. If you want just friendship—”

  “No, I don’t.” James held up a hand, and I stopped rambling. “I don’t want just friendship, Margot.” He paused. “I want you.”

  My mouth went dry. “You do?”

  “Yes. I want you. Here. Now.” His eyes had turned bright, and I thought I saw an intensity that hadn’t been there before. He looked at the carpet and laughed to himself. “It’s taken me far too long to say this, but yes, I want you.” He looked at me again. “I shouldn’t have waited to say it. I should have acted on it.”

  “Really?” I whispered. “Do you mean that?”

  He nodded. “I want you, if you’ll have me. I want all of you.”

  My heart dropped to my knees. This was what I’d waited to hear, and how he’d said it. “Of course, I—”

  But I didn’t get to finish my sentence or my thought. James closed the space between us in a flash, and once he stood in front of me, he leaned down, and his lips met mine. I didn’t resist—I couldn’t have, not during a moment like this. In many ways, I’d waited for it since the moment I met him. This kiss was fire and raw passion, everything I needed to release the pent-up tension I’d sensed between us since we first talked.

  “There,” James said against my lips. “Does that prove it?”

  “Yes,” I whispered. I was breathless, and the small hairs stood up on the back of my neck. “That does.”

  “Good, Margot Leesman. Very good.” He smiled. “Because I wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.”

  His lips crushed against my mouth again, and we sank together onto the bed. We lay there kissing and kissing, and it felt like coming home, but only to a place I’d never known, and in a way I’d never realized I needed. For the first time in a long time, every cell in my body felt content. My fingers entwined in his hair, and I hung on to James as we shut out the world.

  But then I broke the kiss and got off the bed.

  “Let me show you how much I want you,” I said. “How much I’ve wanted you.”

  “Margot, I—”

  I held up a hand. “Let me,” I said, then braced my fingers on the top of the television monitor to steady myself. I took a few deep breaths and found the dress zipper in the middle of the back of the dress. In a slow, smooth movement, I pulled the slider until the garment unwrapped itself from my body. I pushed the straps off my shoulders and let the fabric fall to the floor. Seconds later, I stood facing James in a pair of black underwear and a matching strapless bra.

  “You’re beautiful,” he said.

  “Thank you.” My cheeks warmed, and I glanced at my wrapped knee. “If only I hadn’t fallen at the wedding.”

  “No, Margot. That’s not it.” He laughed once. “After all this time, you still don’t get it, do you?”

  I looked up and caught his gaze. “No.”

  “You’re not perfect, but you don’t have to be.” James motioned for me to return to the bed, and I followed the request. I lay next to him on the soft duvet cover. “You have to be you. That’s what I like, and that’s what I want. I only want the real Margo Leesman.”

  We kissed again, and it was perfect this time, complete. We molded together on the bed, and I knew the truth. I knew what I wanted. For the last few years, I’d lived my life as a lonely, basic white girl trying to make her way in the world. But I wasn’t going to do that anymore.

  Whatever happened next—it would happen with James. And that sense of peace—of completeness—that I was finally with the man my soul recognized as mine, was one of the best feelings in the world.

  “You’re late,” I called out when I heard the back door of Gallery 29 jangle. I said it with a smile, though. I was a million miles from mad, because I knew who was on the other side. “Fifteen minutes late.”

  “That’s because I have lattes,” Margot said. When she appeared in the doorway of the offices, she had a to-go container with three fancy coffees and a goofy grin on her face. “Surprise. One round of mochas for everyone.”

  Hugh let out a low whistle and stood from his desk chair. “You don’t have to tell me twice.” He crossed the room and selected one of the drinks. “Thank you. I was just thinking I needed something stronger than the watered-down excuse for coffee that we drink every day.”

  “There are worse ways to start a hump day, right?” Margot walked over to my desk, handed me a coffee, and pecked me on the lips. “Good morning.”

  “Good morning.”

  “How are the final preps going for the opening tonight?”

  “As planned. The caterer will be here around four.” I glanced at Hugh. “And I’m going to make sure we don’t get overcharged this time.”

  “Good.” Margot sauntered to the desk we’d set up for her a few months earlier. Not only had she become my girlfriend, but she’d also joined our little staff in the job I’d proposed—as our communications and social media director. “I was checking the guest list on my phone, and it looks like we have just over two hundred RSVPs.” She sat in her chair with a flourish. “That’s better than I expected.”

  “You said we’d increase the attendance by at least ten percent.”

  “That’s because of all the posts I’ve done on social media. Over nine thousand followers on Instagram now. Gallery 29’s account is rocking it these days.” She drank more of her latte. “And it helps that Herman Greensburg’s photographs have a national following.”

  “Glad you got his name correct, since last week you called him Harold Greensburg.”

  Hugh laughed and muttered the incorrect name under his breath.

  “Hey, I never said that art is my forte,” Margot insisted. “I’m better at artful photos and Instagram feeds. But I promise we’re going to have a great show tonight.”

  “We better,” I replied.

  I sat at my desk and had to marvel at my luck. Somehow, it had all turned out. I’d found a girl I adored, had a thriving, expanding business, and an optimism I hadn’t felt in years.

  Not bad for a guy from Dayton, Ohio.

  In a way, this whole party was a test. A test for me. Of James’s gallery. Of us. That thundered through my head as I wove through the crowd. If I could conquer this, it would be big. It would be a statement about how far I’d come, how I’d recovered since my abrupt and abysmal departure from WCIN.

  And so far, it was going well.

  We exceeded Gallery 29’s fire capacity limit of 276 about half an hour after the party began, and after that, Hugh stood guard at the showroom doors, regretfully turning people away. Heather attempted to look as intimidating but was back on the floor doing what she did best—connecting. James agreed having her at the event would be a plus given she knew who-was-who in the city.

  The crowd seemed enthralled with Herman Greensburg’s 3-D conceptual photography, and few people hurried to leave after viewing the pieces in the two main rooms of the space. I counted twenty people in line for signed copies of his book and another ten waiting for cocktails at the bar in the far corner.

  We were doing it. Really doing it.

  “Margot, we’ve been looking for you,” my father said, snapping me out of my latest headcount. “It’s so busy tonight.”

  “Thanks.” I gave him and Mom a soft smile. It had been a great surprise that they’d driven here from Tarrytown. “And I’m glad you are here.”

  Mom held up her wine glass and the three of us toasted. After the wedding, Mom, Dad, and I had chatted about what happened at WCIN. I realized if I was happy and working in a job I loved, they were proud of me. It helped that they thought James was wonderful. I was sure Mom was smitten.

  What can I say? My boyfriend is hot.

  “Maybe we will buy one of the photos,” she said after a sip. “We could always use something new in the dining room, and I did have it repainted.”

  I knitted my eyebrows together. “Can’t r
eally see any of his work fitting in that room. He’s perspective is pretty aggressive.” I eyed the blood-red photo behind my dad’s head of a charging bull in Pamplona, Spain. “What will the neighbors say?”

  “Exactly,” my mom replied. “What will they say? Maybe we need to shake them up a little bit.”

  “If you get one and they don’t like it, don’t come running to me. I won’t bail you out of that kind of jam.” I laughed, and as I took a long drink of my red wine, a chill ran through my arms and down my spine.

  About fifty feet away from us stood Lisa.

  Lisa, my old coworker. Lisa, the woman who’d changed the direction of my life with one incorrect, mean-spirited email. And Lisa, the person who’d never given me a chance to prove myself in the mud pit WCIN called a newsroom.

  She stood on the fringe of a small group of people I didn’t recognize. All of them wore dark colors; the man on her left wore a pair of large horn-rimmed glasses and clutched a copy of Greensburg’s book.

  “Excuse me,” I croaked to my parents. I might have been talking to them, but my attention stayed on her. It was almost as if time had slowed down, and I only saw my nemesis, the human embodiment of all that had gone wrong for me in the last six months. “I need to take care of something.”

  Before they replied, I slipped away from them. How many times had I thought about what I’d say to Lisa if I ever saw her again? During the first few days of funemployment, it had been almost too many to count. How many times had I wanted to confront her about what she’d done? Too many times to count.

  But now, I had my chance.

  I took a deep breath, squared my shoulders, and set my jaw. When I reached Lisa in the crowd, I rapped her on the shoulder.

  “Didn’t realize you were an art aficionado,” I said as she turned around.

  Lisa’s eyes bugged, and her mouth opened about a quarter inch. “Margot, what are you doing here?”

  “I work here.” I didn’t try to hide the smugness in my voice. “I’m the director of marketing and social media for Gallery 29.”

  “You are?”

  I nodded. “Started a few months ago.” I glanced at the room, which still swelled with guests. “In fact, I’m responsible for planning this event tonight.”