Chapter 24
KEEPING MY SECRETS STRAIGHT
Rhys
The triplets crash the cabin for Monopoly and stay until almost midnight.
Margot lets herself go and wipes the table with them because of course she does.
Their mistake in suggesting Monopoly.
But it’s fun to watch the four of them interacting, especially knowing Margot’s not hiding much of who she is tonight.
“Worst game ever invented,” Jack mutters as they leave.
“Worse than worst,” Decker agrees.
“What’s that word, Mr. Writer Dude?” Lucky says. “You know all of the words, so you must know that one too.”
He’s the only one of the three of them who was completely amused by Margot’s tactics.
Thought it was cute that a housekeeper from Des Moines could be a shark at Monopoly.
But all three of them hug her, clearly easily forgiving her for what she’s done to their pride tonight.
“Lucky’s going to hate me most,” Margot says after they’re fully gone.
I distract her from worrying about it by tossing her over my shoulder and taking her to the bedroom.
I’m barely conscious when she leaves for work Sunday morning, though I’m not far behind her when I arrive at the retreat center.
I’m not scheduled to work, so I claim I wanted to soak up the vibes of the place while off duty as my excuse to keep an eye on her.
Not that it’s necessary.
Only three guests are left to check out, and no one else is coming until Tuesday.
Completely clearing the place out before a bunch of people who make money by being naked on the internet show up.
She gets off work early, and I treat her to a steak dinner at the cabin.
The way she moans over it has me hard so fast it feels like I got punched in the gut, and I decide I like eating her for dessert better than I like any sugary confection I might whip up.
She doesn’t object.
And I’m gonna need another box of condoms.
Monday’s slow at the retreat center, so we’re both off early again.
She makes me dinner and eats me for dessert.
My life is a revolving door of work and sex and food, and I don’t hate it.
Margot isn’t scheduled on Tuesday to make up for working Sunday, and she swears she has real-life work to catch up on, won’t leave the cabin, and her head of security is on the clock anyway, so I have a Margot-less day, for the most part.
I hit Bee & Nugget for coffee with Decker before heading in for my shift.
“I think I like her,” Decker tells me over lemon scones and coffee.
“She’s likable,” I agree.
He scowls at me. “Fucker.”
“Glad you’re finally moving on after the shit show of your past year, Rhys. I like seeing my friends happy.”
Sabrina snickers as she refills our coffees. “He’s got you there, bud.”
“Thanks for dinner Saturday. It was fun,” I tell her.
“Margie’s great.” She stares me straight in the eye without blinking for too long. “Laney and Emma and I really like her.”
Decker looks between us, clearly noticing something in her tone too.
A creeping sensation hits my neck. “Must be something to that genetic lottery,” I say.
Sabrina smirks. “Margs. What a great nickname.”
Fuuuuuck.
I don’t like her tone.
“Call her Skillet sometimes too,” I say though.
“Think she’ll stay here long-term?”
“We haven’t talked about that.”
“You going to?”
“Like it here,” I reply.
“That wasn’t a yes or no.”
I shrug. “Been working through some shit.”
She smirks again. “I’ll bet you have.”
“Stop implying crap about my sister,” Decker mutters to her.
Sabrina’s gaze settles on me too long again.
“Have a feeling this will be a make-or-break week,” I say, like I’m not starting to break out in a sweat.
And it’s not even my secret.
I’m sweating because I think Sabrina knows Margot’s secret.
She purses her lips together, still smiling.
“Margie know yet?” Decker asks me.
For a second, I think he’s asking me if Margie knows who she actually is—like she’d have doubt about her own identity—but then my brain catches up.
He’s asking if Margie knows who’s coming to the retreat center this week. “Director informed the staff last night. Reminded them about that…one clause…in the contracts.”
The nudity clause.
All staff was told they might encounter nude guests from time to time because of the artistic nature of the retreat’s purpose. Apparently one of the housekeepers—Louisa—opted to take this next week off work, which wasn’t unexpected.
It’s part of why Margot was able to get a job so easily here.
They knew they’d be down a housekeeper.
How long she’d be able to stay after this if she were really Margie Johnson is another question.
Decker stares at me a beat, then he starts grinning too. “Gonna bother you for her to see that much dick?”
Semi-legit question.
Only male creators this week.
Have a feeling they’ll be letting everything hang out as often as possible.
“Stop talking, Decker,” Sabrina says.
Someone calls her name, and she gives him one last warning finger waggle before heading over to check on the other customers.
I glance around the café.
Not too crowded today.
Decker’s doing the same. “Crazy how well this town can keep a secret when it matters,” he says.
I angle another look at him. “Like that you know about your dad?”
He grimaces.
“Should tell him,” I add. “He’s still your dad. Always will be.”
“What if—” He visibly swallows and looks down at his mug. “What if he doesn’t know?”
“He knows.”
“How the fuck do you know that?”
I shrug. “Just a gut feeling that he’s probably always had a gut feeling.”
“My mom—”
“Yeah. I know.”
None of them want to find out their mom cheated on their dad.
None of them want to find out someone hurt her either.
And it’s hard to imagine another scenario.
Decker might still be telling himself they were sperm donor babies, but the odds of that are slim to none.
People in Margot’s zip code don’t donate their swimmers to sperm banks.
“I would’ve wanted to know Felice was cheating on me much sooner than I found out,” I tell Decker.
“Not your fault your parents made the decisions they made. Individually or together. But you know they each made decisions, and you know it’s stressing you and your brothers the fuck out not knowing who knows what.
Tell them. Get rid of the secrets. Might be shitty for a while, but you’re all tight.
You’ll come out stronger on the other side. ”
He keeps staring at his coffee cup.
And then he sighs long and deep. “I’m glad she’s been good for you.”
I don’t blink at the shift in the conversation, and I follow where he’s coming from.
Two weeks ago, I wouldn’t have given him this advice.
But now—yeah.
Now, I’m on the other side of some shit myself.
I smirk at my own coffee. “Figure it’s easier to tell you than it is to hit you with a frying pan.”
“If I knew that’s what you were looking for in a woman, I could’ve asked my assistant to find someone for you.”
I snort.
He chuckles too.
“Don’t do your own dirty work?” I ask
“Fuck, no. Not when I have a Nell. She’s damn good at it too. Not kidding when I say my world would fall apart without her.”
“Make sure you pay her enough.”
He winces. “Yeah. As soon as she got the photoshoot proofs, she knew it was Lucky and not me. She’s fucking good.”
“She blackmailed you?”
“No, she gave me a lecture on being authentic.”
“She really knew it was Lucky?”
“Yeah. And he swears he didn’t tell. She just—she just knows things.”
“Huh.”
“What?”
“If she’s that good at everything…maybe have her tell your parents you know.”
We stare at each other a second, and then we both crack up again.
And it feels good.
I’m still hiding something from my buddy, but fuck, he’s hiding shit too.
We’re all hiding shit.
For just a little longer.