Page 74 of The Long Way Home
Margo picked a place a few blocks from her house. A tucked-away little bar on the edge of the historic district, with exposed brick and velvet booths you could sink into.
“Damn, Rach,” Margo says when I walk up, her eyes sweeping over me as she leans back in her chair. “You look hot.”
I roll my eyes, but a laugh slips out. “I try.”
“You don’t just try. You succeed.” She nods toward the glass across from her. “Come sit. Drink. Tell me everything about this week.”
I slide into the booth, tugging off my coat and draping it beside me. My purse follows, tucked neatly against the velvet cushion. The wine glass waits, half-full, and I reach for it right away. The server drops off a small charcuterie board, neat rows of crackers and folded meats. It almost looks too pretty to touch. I nod a quick thanks, grateful for the distraction, for something to keep my hands busy.
“You know, Rhett was over at the house the other day. Anderson had him over to watch football.”
“How nice, they’re bonding.” My head tips, one eyebrow raised.
Her mouth tugs into a smile. “He was asking about you.”
My fingers go still on the glass. “What did he say?” I ask, too quickly.
Margo watches me over the rim of her wine glass, the stem paused halfway to her lips. “Just little things,” she says. “Like how you were doing. It was brief—from what I could hear. Mostly guy time.” She shrugs, then softens. “Which is good for Rhett, you know. I feel like he shut himself off after Josh died. It’s nice seeing him bond with Anderson.”
I lean back in my chair, letting her words settle. “I… hadn’t really thought about it like that.” The realization stings. Had I been so wrapped up in my own shit that I didn’t even give him the benefit of the doubt?
Margo takes a sip, then sets her glass down. “I did hear him talking with Anderson about his mom or something. I honestly didn’t even know his mom was still alive. I’ve never heard him talk about her.”
My head snaps up. “He was talking about his mom with Anderson?”
She nods. “Yeah. Practically the whole night.”
“Holy shit,” I mutter, staring down into my drink.
Margo’s brows knit together. “Why the shock?”
I hesitate, rolling the stem of my glass between my fingers. This isn’t my story. But I also don’t want to hold it alone.
“Rhett’s mom left him and his dad when he was twelve.”
Her mouth falls open. “What?”
“He doesn’t talk about it,” I say quietly. “I think only Josh knew. And eventually me.”
“Holy shit,” she breathes again, shaking her head.
“Yeah.” I swallow. “I saw him last week. His mom apparently ran into him on the street.” I pause, choosing my words carefully. “It really messed him up. It’s not my place to tell, but I’m glad he feels like he can talk to Anderson about it.”
Margo leans back, dragging a hand down her face. “God. I feel like an asshole. I had no idea. I never even thought to ask. I just assumed she was dead. Wow, I’ve been such a shit friend to him.”
I reach across the table and tap her wrist. “I don’t think that’s fair.” She looks at me. “You were dealing with your own trauma,” I continue. “We all handle things differently.”
She exhales, then straightens, resolve flickering back into place. “Okay. Can we talk about something else?”
I blink. “Oh, do we have other pressing matters?”
She points her glass at me. “You’re kidding, right, Rach?”
I just stare at her and take another sip of my drink.
“You are really going to make me ask?” Margo sighs, setting her glass down with a soft clink. I remain silent, hoping she won’t want to press further. “Okay. Did you and Ben ever work out last weekend’s stuff?”
“Not really. We did what we always do: avoid each other for a couple of days, then act like it never happened.”
