Page 48 of Wicked Promises
She considers my answer, and in this moment, that’s what I appreciate the most about her. She doesn’t bullshit me—I’m practically an adult. She’s never tried to make me feel younger than I am. Sure, she’s still a parent. But it’s different.
“There are epic love stories that end in tragedy,” she finally says. “And then there are people who just float at the baseline of emotion. No love, no loss. I think it’s better to experience it all. Everything good and bad and terrifyingly ugly in this world. Otherwise, we’ll just walk around numb, and what kind of life is that?”
Love, loss, tragedy.
“And besides, who’s to say every story ends in a ball of flames? Some surpass time.” She wraps her arm around my shoulders.
I surprise myself by leaning into it, resting my head on her shoulder.
“I’m scared.”
“Why do I think you’re not just talking about Robert?” She hums.
“I don’t want to fall in love with Caleb if he’s just going to break my heart,” I whisper. “I don’t want him to… string me along or mess with me.”
She taps my bracelet. “What’s the story with this, if you don’t mind me asking?”
I snort. “When we were eight, I basically talked Caleb into pretend marrying me. It was just braided thread back then, nothing substantial.” I twist it around my wrist. “I lost it at oneof the foster homes, but I think Caleb somehow stole it. It was my own fault for not wearing it, but I didn’t want it to break. He fixed it up and gave it back to me at the masquerade ball.”
“Before he told us the lies about our daughter.”
“Yeah.”
“The eight-year-old Margo was ready to commit.” She chuckles. “If only we all had the courage that kids do.”
“Well, that was before I broke his heart, and he broke mine.”
She twists toward me. “If you listen to anything I say, I hope it’s this. Hearts heal. Scars fade. Memories of the past… they don’t last very long either. If you love him, love him with everything you have, and I promise it’ll be worth it.”
I blink back tears. “Is that how you feel about Robert?”
“Absolutely. We may not seem like it at times, though.” She wipes at her own cheeks. “Time has worn us down. But we put work and love into our relationship every day.”
“It’s funny… I never got to have a conversation about relationships or sex or love.” I roll my eyes. “Mom and Dad had a weird, angry relationship. The Ashers weren’t the best role models either. And the foster families…” I laugh under my breath. “None of them really had their shit together. Some pretended, of course, but we saw through it.”
“I’m sorry you’ve had to go through that,” she says. “I need to make a phone call, okay? How about you get us something from the vending machine.”
She hands me a few dollars and shoos me into the hall.
My body is numb. I walk down the hall and around the corner to the little alcove of vending machines. I get each of us a coffee and a granola bar, then trudge back.
The hairs on the back of my neck stand up, like someone is watching me.
I spin around, but the hallway is practically empty. Just a nurse walking away from me, pushing a cart, and another woman in scrubs at the nurses’ station.
I back away from that spot. I get the same feeling again and turn, coffee sloshing through the little hole in the lid.
“Fuck, ow.” I set down the coffee and shake out my hand, wincing at the red spots that already appear on my skin.
The hallway is empty.
Thoroughly spooked, I grab the cup and rush back to the waiting room.
How was it so busy not too long ago and deserted now?
“Angela told me she got you a new phone?” Lenora asks when I’ve retaken my seat. Angela—better known as Ms. McCaw.
“She gave it to me when she dropped me off. I haven’t looked at it.”