3. Margo
CHAPTER 3
Margo
L eaving the Italian restaurant last night, I shut myself in the car knowing full well Chad wasn’t it. It was my second date with him, and he’s the fourth guy I matched with. The first three men were so boring I couldn’t even distinguish between them if I had to. All fairly good-looking, with great jobs, ready for commitment, and without baggage. Jeannie was adamant I only had to go on the full five dates with a man who I was into. She’s striking out by managing my dating profile. Instead of asking me for help, she dove deeper into her assessments of my personality, psyche, and history. It’s a therapy session every time I walk in the door. I let her because it’s better than her pointing out my flaws if she focuses on this part of me.
I am glad I can come to the base early to get things done, I show my civilian badge to get onto the SEAL base and smile at the gate guard. They’re always way nicer than they should be. The man on duty today has big bushy eyebrows and a dimple on one side. He’s a regular Navy guy, not special operations, a fact that bothers some of them, I’ve realized. While this is a new job, it’s so different from my previous assignment that all the differences stand out. “Have a great day, ma’am,” he says, winking as he hands me back the card.
“You, too.” Even though I’m smiling, I keep my tone professional. The last thing I need to do is to shit where I eat. Jeannie has strict orders not to match me with anyone who could potentially be my client. My entire life feels weird—like it doesn’t fit, even though I own it. I don’t want to avoid eye contact with someone I have to see daily, but I do because it feels like I must. I pull into my normal spot. It’s only open because it’s so early. My routine is so predictable, I’m a serial killer’s wet dream. There are no cars on either side of me, and the lights above the building are strong and bright. Even so, I grab my bag and jog to the drab, gray entrance, scanning my card once again to let myself in. It’s dark, cold, and always smells like new rubber and cleaner bought in bulk. Sitting down at my computer, I check my schedule and see I have another session with Tommy. It’s entertaining watching him dance around the fact he’s attracted to me. Maybe today will be the day he slips up. Not that I’d do anything, but it would be entertaining.
“Hey,” a male voice booms from the open door to the trainer office space. I jump. “Sorry,” Tommy says. “Thought I saw you come in. You getting ready to work out?” I nod, catching my breath and collecting my wits. “Did I startle you?” It’s only after the last question I realize I’ve stayed silent too long.
“I didn’t see any other cars in the parking lot,” I explain. “Where did you see me at?” I clear my throat. “You’re on the schedule for later in the morning. Did you want to go through your program now instead?”
“No, I just wanted to see you. Plus, I’m interested in how the creator of pain gets a sweat in.” He clears his throat. “If you don’t mind. You mentioned in the email what time you were working out. Was thinking that was an open invitation.”
I exhale. He’s polite, and his smile disarms me. “No one is ever here this early. Don’t you like sleep?”
He looks guilty. “Fun fact, I haven’t gone to sleep yet, so it’s still night.” Tommy slides into my coworker’s office chair and spins around once. “I saw what time it was and decided to see if you were working out.”
I meet his gaze after he spins. “Are you drunk? I’d advise against pushing your body if you’ve been out all night, drinking. Picking up and putting down heavy weights also seems like something I might get fired for if I don’t caution against doing while intoxicated.”
His grin is lopsided. “All I heard was you have a challenge for me, and in case you weren’t versed in these parts, we sort of eat challenges for breakfast.”
“Tommy.” I use his first name instead of his last as is customary. “How much have you had to drink?”
“My ex is an absolute terror. She’s getting married, and we’re from the same small town. I have to go home, and I’ll see her and the new guy.” Oh, he’s had more to drink than I initially thought. While that reply wasn’t a number, it’s just as good as one.
“Tommy, how did you get here?”
“My ride dropped me off.”
I swallow and nod. “Let’s go walk on the treadmill for a warm-up.” I don’t tell him that will be the extent of his workout this morning. “Why do you care?” I ask as he mounts the treadmill next to me.
“About what?” he asks.
“Your ex. Wouldn’t you be happy she moved on?” I turn my machine on for a brisk walk. “If this is going to be a free therapy session, you better get walking.”
He laughs, but he’s looking at the side of my face instead of paying attention to the speed he reached, and he wobbles. I grab his hand. I’m not sure why. There’s no way I could catch him from falling. I’m five foot nothing, and he’s over two hundred pounds of pure muscle. He catches himself last minute.
“Maybe don’t even walk,” I say, unable to keep the chuckle from escaping after. “Do you want to just talk?” I look at my watch, deciding I need to push my workout until after lunch if it doesn’t happen now. “Is that really why you came in early?”
He stops the machine and sits at the end once it stops.
“It’s okay. I’m going through it, too,” I admit when he stays silent.
“Ask me why you’re the only person who I can talk to about this.”
I ask him.
“Because everyone else either has a stake in it because they think I should try and get Dani back, or they’re so sick of hearing me talk about it that they’d punch me if I brought it up again.”
“Who thinks you should try and get her back?” I ask, unable to keep the incredulous tone from my voice. “She’s an ex for a reason.”
He looks at me, sad eyes meeting mine. “Exactly. Somehow I knew you would be understanding.”
I swallow. “I don’t know about that, I just know a thing or two about exes and that usually they belong in the past. When you let them into the present, it tends to screw life up.” He blinks once, but his steely gaze holds mine. “Tell me why you broke up and make it good because my ex left me for drugs and a prostitute.” I manage to say it with a straight face.
“Are you fucking with me?”
I laugh. “Unfortunately, not.”
“This really is a safe space then.” He licks his lips before he smiles widely. I did that. I made him smile. “Dani and I were together for a long time. We were each other’s firsts in all ways, and after the last first, everything changed, and she didn’t want to be with me anymore. I wasn’t the soulmate she thought I was because we had sex before marriage. We broke up, and she moved on faster than I was prepared for. I don’t know if I ever wanted her forever, but she didn’t give me the chance to figure it out.” He cradles his head in his hands. “I’m a Christian. I was a Christian. I don’t know what I am anymore. This job goes against a lot of morals and personality traits that aren’t following faith.”
Wow, the most unexpected thing I’ve heard in weeks.
“I loved the idea of Dani and I forever because it made sense inside of religion. I wouldn’t have been truly happy, and I know it. She wasn’t for me. Making that realization also forces me to question who I am, if I’m not the guy who married the first girl and goes to church on Sunday.”
This is complicated. There weren’t hookers or addictions that destroyed their love. This is a problem in a realm I’ve never been inside of. Something I’d label a normal person problem. “How do you know you wouldn’t be happy?” It seems like the only logical question to ask. I wouldn’t dare question his religion, and I don’t want to bring up Dani or make him think of her. Focus on him, I think.
His eyes glitter in the dim light, and my stomach flips. I’m no longer scared. Other emotions are bubbling to the surface. Ones that have been dormant since Hollis. I care about this man. “I wouldn’t have been happy because I know she wasn’t the person for me. We didn’t align on anything. We couldn’t finish each other sentences or agree on how many children we wanted. We were different people when we fell in love as kids. Me joining the military was something she didn’t agree with. She wanted to live the life we’ve always known in Texas. Sometimes I trip over my own loyalty. It might not make much sense,” Tommy says, swallowing hard.
“It makes perfect sense,” I interject. “Just because something looks perfect on paper doesn’t mean it’s forever.” My relationship was idyllic for a long time, until it wasn’t. “I don’t think you should try to win her back if she’s moved on, and I don’t have a stake in your life at all. Well, I guess your stamina better improve with my workout regimen, but that’s the only thing contingent coming from me.” I smile. “When do you have to go home?”
“Soon.” His smile tilts. “Say, have you ever wondered what it would be like to live on a ranch?”
I narrow my eyes. “We’re both from Texas, remember? I know what it’s like.”
He smiles wider. “Even better, ma’am. What would it take to encourage you to come home with me for the weekend?” The urge to decline immediately for work-related reasons is squashed the second I think of Jeannie and her current quest. This, Tommy, could be my golden ticket to freedom from her dates. He’s not a bad person. In fact, he’s too good for me. He’s gorgeous, and it would be bad karma if I didn’t help this Christian man, wouldn’t it?
“Can we clarify what exactly that would entail and why you’re asking your personal trainer instead of hiring someone online or asking a friend no one knows?”
Tommy angles his body so he’s facing me. “You work here, so I know you’ve been vetted ten times over. You’ve probably signed an NDA about your clients, and pardon my forwardness, but you’re real nice to look at.” I literally have to hold in a gasp when his gaze dances over my exposed skin. “I did download a dating app, but why use it when perfection is before me?”
I widen my eyes.“You’re really drunk, aren’t you?” My stomach tips and dips as he stares at me in a not-so-Christian way. “I’ll go home with you, but I also need a favor of sorts.”
“Name it, Margo.” Oh, man. His lips when he says my name are irresistible. It throws me off balance mentally for a second. “If it has to do with hookers or drugs, I’m going to have to tap out, though.” Another smile aimed at me warms my entire body. He’s able to make a joke about Hollis, and I don’t feel anything. No guilt, remorse, not even sadness. It’s a first for me, and it’s cathartic. “Give it to me,” he edges, leaning his head to the side.
“Since we’re pretending for your friends and family, I need you to save me from my best friend’s plan to fix me. Will you go on five dates with me? Pretend dates, of course. If she thinks I’m making progress, she won’t force me to date all these impeccable men she’s pulling for me on a dating app, and with you, it would be quid pro quo.”
He sets his hand on mine. “Is this date number one?”
I laugh, but his warm touch forces every hair on my body to rise—an electric current surging from his soul to mine. I swallow hard. “It could be,” I say, voice trembling. This doesn’t feel pretend. Not like the four men I’ve tried to force a connection with on my previous dates. I have something to compare with now, and for that, at the very least, I can thank Chad for the opposite of this. “Well, actually we’re at work, and technically this isn’t legal. They would fire me immediately. This doesn’t count as a date, so we keep everything on the up and up.”
“You play by the rules, then? Does that personality trait extend to every area of your life?”
His question, while slurred, is deep. “I’ve always had a plan, but I always leave wiggle room for the universe to guide me. I like rules. They keep everything from getting messy.” Messy like what happened to my life when Hollis stopped playing by the rules. “You do too?”
“Always, and look where it got me,” Tommy says.
“You’re literally in the point zero one percent of humans who have what it takes to be a Navy SEAL. You can’t fault one failed relationship on your ability to follow rules. That’s just bad luck,” I say. “Are you going to remember this conversation tomorrow, or should I store my number in your phone so when I call to remind you of this plan, you’ll know who I am?” I laugh but try to hide it by biting my lip.
He mimics me, licking his bottom lip. “I will most certainly remember this,” he says, waving his arm between our bodies. “This is sort of unforgettable. I ignored all the rules tonight.”
“This morning,” I correct. “The sun is about to come up, and this place will be crawling with men soon. You did almost fall off a treadmill. That’s kind of something you want to forget.” I stand from the treadmill and extend my hand down to him. “Then again, we did just make a deal, so I’m hoping you don’t forget about me.”
“Why does your friend want you to go on five dates? Is there something to that number?” He takes my hand and stands, swaying a little, and doesn’t let go.
I lose focus and try to pull out of his grasp because cameras are everywhere in here. “Jeannie, my best friend, is a psychologist as well. She says there’s something about that number of dates being all the human needs to distinguish if a relationship will be a lasting, meaningful thing or if the partnership is doomed. That’s the roundabout sum of it. Oh, and five dates without sex.” He lets me pull away at the mention of sex.
His neck works as he swallows. “That does have a way of screwing things up, doesn’t it?”
I shake my head. “I’m talking about sex with a stranger, so I think you can rationalize how much value I place on it. It can be just sex, Tommy. It isn’t why she broke up with you. She may have said it was, but it was only the excuse she used. Don’t let her dictate the value behind the actions for the rest of your life.” His face is stony, and I think I might have overstepped my boundaries for a beat or two, but then he nods. “She only has as much power as you give her.”
“Are you sure you’re not a psychologist?” Tommy steps toward me, a bold move. “Funny thing is right now I can’t think of anyone but you. And the power you have.”
My next breath lodges in my throat. “I don’t have power,” I whisper. “Just perspective.” Ignoring that forward statement about him thinking about me is easy because he’s so drunk, but every second that passes it’s as if his eyes clear, and he’s more present. It was simple talking to drunk, beautiful Tommy, but somehow this conversation sober would feel wildly personal and not very pretend-like at all. “Why don’t you go home and sleep? I’ll move your workout and will text you, so you have my number. I’m holding you to our deal.”
“No, I’m holding you to our deal,” he replies, following me when I head for my office. “Margo,” he says, when I sit in my chair and try to focus on the password screen flashing to life on the monitor.
“Yes?” I circle back to my professional voice.
“What if five dates aren’t enough? Are you in a place where you could commit to more?”
The way he phrases his question couldn’t be politer. “It’s just pretending, Tommy. Sure, as many dates as we need to go on.” I air quote the word date, but watch as his face falls. He bids me a quick goodbye, and I’m left feeling like an asshole. Did I miss something? I’ve signed an NDA and passed all the background checks required to work on a top-secret base. That’s why I’m attractive to him. He said it. He said it drunk, though. Jeannie told me once that everything said inebriated holds a shred of truth.
After my second client, I get in my personal workout, then head home sweaty and still reeling from my early morning conversation. Jeannie is at work, so she can’t rapid-fire a barrage of personal questions. I saved Tommy’s phone number in my phone before I left. I send one text, and it says, ‘Hi.’ Then I shower, taking a long time to mask my hair and shave my legs. I haven’t needed to stay up on things like this since Jeanie cut off my promiscuous ways.
My phone screen is bright as I cross from my bathroom to my closet. The new text message is evident. Holding my towel, I lean over to see how Tommy responded. ‘Hi.’
I text back, “This is Margo…your new girlfriend.” I contemplate deleting the last three words, weighing if the joke will transfer over text. Say what you mean and mean what you say, Hollis always said. Closing my eyes, I send the message, with the joke.
“I was wondering if I could see your dating profile. If you’re my girlfriend, I feel like I should know more about you.”
I grin, knowing how deep Jeannie went in curating the perfect photos of me and the details she shared about who I am. “This is supposed to be for strangers,” I text him back and then send him the link. “This is the handiwork of my psychologist best friend, but she did a decent job describing me,” I send.
He doesn’t reply for fifteen minutes, and I begin to get worried. “She did a great job,” he replies. “You’re looking for something serious?” Out of all the telling questions and photos attached to the profile, he picked out the one sentence that my heart wants to agree with, but my head can’t get on board with.
“Isn’t that what we all want?” It’s easier to text that than to tell him it makes me uncomfortable thinking about another long-term relationship because it scares the crap out of me. “I mean, underneath the pretenses and hang-ups, I think everyone wants a person to be with forever. Sorry to get deep.”
“No one gets deep these days.”
“How would you know if you’ve been with the same woman your entire life?” I reply.
“Touché,” he types back. Then after, “I’m surrounded by men who date casually. Some nights they don’t even get a name. I don’t think there’s a bone in their body that wants something serious. Casual is king. For them.” I cringe thinking how he just described who I was before I agreed to Jeannie’s plan.
“Maybe because I came from a serious relationship, and I’ve done the casual thing.” I leave out how recently in my past I’ve done the casual thing. “But maybe they’re all running from something, and getting deep with a woman would force them to face it.” I add, “Sorry, didn’t mean to offend you if I did.”
While I wait for him to respond, I get ready for bed. Pulling back the covers, I snuggle in and sigh. I have missed my bed. While I was out doing the nasty with random men, I rarely slept at home. I hear Jeannie get home, and she pops her head in my door.
“How was your date with Chad?”
The question is valid. We didn’t talk last night when I got home, and I left super early this morning because I didn’t want to have this conversation. I can’t wait to see her face when I tell her about Tommy.
“Awful,” I say back. “He was still boring, but…” I say.
Her eyes light up. “You’re going to give him date number three?”
I wrinkle my nose. “Heck no. I met a man at a coffee shop. Out in the wild. He accidentally got my order instead of his, and we had to trade.” I’ve had all day to formulate this lie. “He seems like a nice guy. A practicing Christian, so you don’t have to worry about muddying the waters with my libido. He’s not interested in that aspect.” I can’t tell her he’s a client because she’ll get mad at me on a new level. That means more lying. This time it’s for the greater good. “Just making sure I can pause my dating app while I try things out with him. If you deem that okay, boss?”
“Of course meeting someone in the wild for yourself is preferable. I’m still stumped about how you attracted that kind of man, though.” She scratches her chin. “I mean you aren’t that kind of girl, so how well will this work out?”
I exhale and flip my phone when I see Tommy text back. “I hate that you’ve crossed a whole species of men off my menu because you think I’m a hussy,” I say to her.
“You aren’t a hussy, you just like sex. There’s nothing wrong with that at all. I just wouldn’t have thought you’d entertain someone like that. It makes sense though. He’s not a threat.”
“A threat to what?”
“There’s no threat of you replacing Hollis. He’s safe. But fair is fair.”
I swallow hard, feeling remorseful for having to lie to her. “We’re getting to know each other just like you said.”
“Five dates, Margo. Give him five dates if you still have interest after one. Give him all five.”
She agrees to pause her hunt in the app, which is a relief, and I promise not to try to bang the Christian, which relieves her therapistguilt for playing a puppet master who affects other humans.
Before I even read what Tommy responded with, I text him, “Our first date needs to be coffee, so I can cleanse my soul.”