10. Margo
TEN
MARGO
I wake up warm and buried under a pile of blankets. I groan and I stretch my arms above my head, sore and tired after spending all night with Finn. He was true to his word, having me three more times while the stars were out and again just as the sun started to rise. I flip onto my side, ready to wake him up with my mouth on his cock, but I frown when I find the space beside me empty.
That’s not good.
I sit up and glance around. There are no signs of life in his bedroom except for a sticky note attached to his pillow. I grab it off the silk fabric and read it, my frown pulling up into a smile when I see his messy handwriting.
You snore in your sleep.
Come to the kitchen when you wake up.
Fa-la-la-la Finn
There’s even a damn reindeer next to his name.
I throw back the covers and jump out of bed, finding a big T-shirt of his to slip on. I make my way over to the dresser against the wall and put on a pair of fuzzy socks, grateful the central heat is kicking out most of the cold in the room.
Opening the door, I pad down the hall and grin when I see an eight-foot Christmas tree in the living room. It’s decorated from top to bottom with ornaments and colored lights, and I walk over to smell the fresh pine needles.
The few times I’ve been to his house with Jeremy, I haven’t taken a good look around. We’ve usually headed out to the pool or stayed in the kitchen to grab a bite to eat, so I take a second to admire the area around me.
A quick scan shows me he has a matching couch and loveseat set. A fancy coffee table in the middle of the room and a bookshelf against the wall that’s covered in garland.
Everything about it is adult and mature, a guy who obviously has his shit together, but I’m not surprised. The man has a headboard, for god’s sake, so a fully furnished house isn’t a shock.
Tapping one of the lights, I veer left toward the kitchen and find Finn bent over the stove. His sweatpants sit low on his hips, and there are red marks all over his shoulders from where my nails dug into his skin when we went for round two in his bedroom. I cross my arms over my chest and watch him for a minute.
He knows his way around a kitchen, flipping a pancake and cracking an egg like he’s a Michelin star chef. I hear him humming a low tune, and I wonder what he’s singing.
“Morning,” I say, announcing my presence.
Finn turns to look at me over his shoulder. His eyes move down my shirt and bare legs, and a slow and lazy grin stretches across his mouth.
“Morning.”
I yawn and step into the kitchen. “Do you have coffee?”
“Just brewed a fresh pot. The only things I know about you are how many of my fingers you can take and that you steal the covers in the night, so I wasn’t sure if you wanted milk and sugar.”
I burst out laughing and take the mug he’s handing me. It’s covered in snowflakes, and the man might as well be Santa Claus himself. “While those are important things, coffee is more important. Splash of milk, half a spoonful of sugar.”
“Noted. Help yourself to anything. Food should be ready in five minutes.”
“That’s all right. I don’t want to linger, and I’m sure you want to get back into your routine. Once I finish this, I’m going to head out.”
“Head out?” Finn chuckles. “Blizzard came through last night, and it’s still coming down. The streets are closed, so there’s no way you’ll find an Uber.”
“What?” I stand on my toes and pull back the small curtain covering the window above the kitchen sink. It’s a world of white outside, and I stare at the snow piling up, knowing there’s no way I’m going to make it home in the foreseeable future. “That derails my plans.”
“Why don’t you eat and hang out for a while? When it clears, I can either drive you home or call a car for you.”
“I don’t want to be in your way.”
“You won’t be.”
I deliberate for a beat before conceding. I didn’t expect to interact with him once the day started, but I might as well take advantage of the situation. “The second it stops snowing I’m going to leave.”
“That’s fine.”
I pull out a chair at the table and sit. “Do you like to cook?”
“I don’t mind it. I eat a lot when I’m marathon training, so making my meals is a lot cheaper than going out. That shit adds up,” Finn says.
“How many marathons have you done?” I ask, watching him dole out food onto two plates.
“Seven.”
“And you’re fast, right?”
“I guess you could say that. I finished eighth at the Olympic Trials in the marathon this year.”
“ What ? You’re joking.”
“Nope.” He sets the plates down and sits across from me. “I like to run.”
“My god. You must’ve thought I was absolutely ridiculous acting like that after a half marathon.”
“I told you I don’t think that way. We all have different abilities, and I bet I’ve been running far longer than you.”
“Probably longer than I’ve been alive,” I say under my breath, and he reaches under the table and squeezes my knee.
“You’re not wrong. Now eat, Margo, and tell me how you slept.”
“Pretty well.” I cut a piece of pancake and swallow it down. “Your bed is very comfortable.”
“It is, isn’t it? I splurged on it a couple of years ago, and it’s done wonders for my back problems.” Finn spears his scrambled eggs and shovels a bite into his mouth with a smile. “What do you do for work?”
“Are we playing the Twenty Questions game?”
“We might as well. This is our fourth date, after all.”
“I’m not sure I’ve ever had a guy want to get to know me after he fucked me.” I take a swig of my coffee and sigh happily. “I’m a third-grade teacher. We’re off until the new year and having some time away from the classroom is a treat.”
“A teacher? That’s awesome. How’d you get into that gig?” he asks.
“You make it sound like I work for the FBI, not molding the minds of the next generation of leaders. But, yes, to answer your question: I got my degree in biology, only I didn’t want to spend all day in a lab, so I went the teaching route. Once I feel more comfortable in a classroom environment, I want to transition to high school. The younger kids are fun, but it requires a lot of patience.”
“Teachers are superheroes. My mom was in education for thirty-five years, and I have immense respect for what you do. I’d probably get fired after ten minutes, and I’m definitely not smart enough to inspire young minds.”
“I don’t know about that. A lot of it is a curriculum that’s given to you. This is my third year, and I’m finally at the point where I think I know what I’m doing.” I glance up at him. “You’re a paramedic, right? Or some kind of doctor?”
“Paramedic. Been in the field for about ten years now, and I love it.”
“You must see a lot of shit.”
“I do,” he says. “But I bet you do too.”
“I’m not performing CPR on my students.”
“Maybe not. But you do see how tired they are after they’ve listened to their parents fight all night. You see them skipping meals and experiencing emotions that are tough to work through when you’re young. That can have similar weight to the stuff I deal with.”
He’s not wrong.
What I do is 30 percent teaching, 70 percent listening, observing, helping and loving. I have kids from broken homes. Kids who didn’t eat dinner last night. Others who are three reading levels behind because they don’t have an adult in their life who believes in them.
For as much as I love my job, there’s a lot of heartbreak too, and this is the first time someone’s sounded so understanding when talking about the challenges I face in my profession.
“I guess you’re right,” I say, rubbing a hand over my chest. “Still. What you do is more important.”
“We’re both important,” Finn says.
“Okay, humble guy. You win. We’re both important. My turn for a question?”
“Sure. I’m an open book. Ask whatever you want.”
“What’s the deal with Jeremy’s mom? Is she still in the picture? I know what happened between us doesn’t mean anything when I leave, but is she going to come through the door in an hour and want to kick my ass for sleeping with you?”
“That would be awkward, given she has six-month-old twins and a husband she loves very much. We had Jeremy when we were young. Sixteen, juniors in high school, and really fucking clueless. It happened after the homecoming dance. I wanted to make the night romantic, so we drove out to this open field and looked at the stars.” He grins and leans back in his chair. “We didn’t know any better, and a few weeks later, she missed her period. I told her I’d support her no matter what she decided to do: keep the baby, have an abortion, place him up for adoption. Ultimately, she decided to keep it, and Jeremy was born.”
“Okay, so that was twenty-something years ago. What about now?”
“We dated until we graduated college. After, we parted ways as partners but stayed friends. We love each other, but we’re not in love with each other, if that makes sense.”
“Makes total sense. How was it co-parenting?”
“So easy, but I know not everyone can say the same. Layla and I always communicated with one another. We split custody of Jer, and there was never any drama. We had a good support system, and we both sacrificed a lot for him.” He pauses, and the weight of his gaze is heavy on my shoulders. “What happened between you two? He mentioned you a few times, but he didn’t mention a breakup.”
I take a bite of food to give myself a second before answering. “He cheated on me,” I say bluntly when I swallow, and Finn’s eyes widen.
“ What ?”
“We were out at a bar and he said he wasn’t feeling well, so he wanted to head home. He wasn’t answering my texts when I asked if he got back okay, and I saw he was still sharing his location with me from earlier in the day. Turns out, he went to the restaurant next door where he was meeting up with the woman who teaches in the classroom next to mine. They were going at it in the bathroom.” I laugh. The whole thing sounds absolutely ridiculous now. “He’s a piece of shit. Sorry. I know he’s your son and what we had wasn’t that serious, but a little decency would’ve been nice.”
“Fucking Christ.” Finn pinches the bridge of his nose and shakes his head. “I’m sorry, Margo. I don’t know where he learned that shit, but it wasn’t from me.”
“It’s fine. I knew I wasn’t going to marry the guy. Just, you know, I’d rather not have seen my boyfriend’s mouth on another woman.”
“Still. That’s unacceptable. It’s not hard to have a conversation with the person you’ve been seeing and tell them you’re not interested in pursuing things with them anymore.”
“It’s no big deal. If we hadn’t broken up, I wouldn’t be here right now, and I’m having a lot of fun. You’re putting me in the holiday spirit with your tree and decorations, and I’m forgetting all about him.”
“It’s Christmas, Margo. Everyone should be in the holiday spirit.”
We make casual conversation for the rest of our meal. Finn tells me about growing up just outside of Chicago in a small suburb. I tell him about my childhood and my sixth-grade science fair project.
Everything about it is easy. I can’t stop laughing, and there’s not an ounce of awkwardness in hanging out like friends after he railed me for hours last night.
“So.” I wipe my mouth and set my napkin on my empty plate. “What else is on your agenda today? Do you need to run a hundred miles? Are you going to climb Mount Everest on your lunch break?”
“Nah. I’ll save that for next week.” Finn stands and takes our plates to the sink. “I’m watching the DC Stars hockey game later.”
“DC? Not a fan of the Chicago team?”
“They’re not bad, but Maverick Miller is unstoppable and damn fun to watch. Before that, I have some work I need to do.”
“Work?” I frown. “Are you stitching people up in your home office?”
“Not exactly.” He rubs his jaw, and it’s obvious he’s weighing something in his mind. “Do you want to see?”
“Oh, fuck no. This is the part where you murder me, isn’t it? Katarina has my location, so she’ll know exactly where to send the police.” I stand and hold my fork out in front of me. “Come any closer, and I’ll jab your eyes out.”
“You’re cute.” He stands too, and I have to crane my neck to hold his gaze. “It’s good your friend knows where you are when you’re hanging out with a stranger, but I’m not going to murder you.”
“That’s exactly what a murderer would say.”
His eyes twinkle with amusement, and he chuckles. “Pretty sure a murderer would have offed you in your sleep. It’s a lot less work than going up against a fork.”
“See? Your brain is working like a serial killer’s.”
“Do you want to tie my hands behind my back?” Finn holds up his wrists. “You can. Might turn me on, but at least you’d feel safer.”
I consider him and slowly lower the fork to my side. “You can show me, but one wrong move, and I’m going to stab you.”
“Now I’m even more turned on.” He hooks his thumb over his shoulder and winks. “Come on. I’ll show you my torture chamber.”