6. Margot
6
margot
Rae dips her honey chipotle chicken tenders into the tiny cup of ranch before taking a bite. I can’t believe it’s already the middle of the week. The festival feels like it was just yesterday, and the way time is passing weighs my stomach with dread. It serves as a reminder that Jackson will be back on the road before I know it, and I’m not ready to say goodbye.
“Summer term sucks, but I’ve been loving these lunch dates,” she says as she picks up a fry and pops it into her mouth.
I dip a chip into our shared queso. “Almost done at least.”
She nods. “I can’t believe summer is almost over.” Her eyes jump up to meet mine. “How are you feeling about everything?”
“Fine,” I lie. It’s easier to lie than admit I’m scared. “We did it before when he was opening for Sidecar. I’m sure it will be okay.”
The second part is less of a lie. I do know we’ll be able to do it again, but this time, I really don’t want to. I want to keep waking up to him, with his hair a mess and his arms wrapped around me as he buries his face in my neck. I want to get home from work and see him sitting on my couch with Matt. I want to keep having him be a part of my daily life.
“If anyone can do it, it’s you two.” She goes to take another bite but pauses. “I mean, you know he loves you. That much is obvious.”
I blink, not sure how to respond to that.
Rae tilts her head. “You two have said it, right?”
“Um.” I drop my gaze, pushing my fajita peppers around with my fork and trying not to choke on the way her question just made me feel. “No.” I shake my head. “We haven’t.”
“Margot!” she says with a laugh. “How long have you two been together?”
A soft smile pulls at my lips. “Depends on which days you want to count.”
She gives me an incredulous look. “You don’t even know when your anniversary is?”
“Not really.” I shrug, talking about this with her is hard. She and Matt are perfect. He knew he loved her so quickly and told her as soon as he felt it. But Jackson and I aren’t Matt and Rae. We never have been. I know I can’t compare us to them, but when I talk to her about things, it makes it hard not to.
Rae shakes her head. “Okay, let’s think. You two got together the week after Thanksgiving, right?”
“Unofficially,” I say with a nod. “But the show was in January, and then he didn’t stop touring until May.”
She does the math. “So, if you count since he’s been home, it’s been three months, but if you count since you two decided to be exclusive, it’s been almost seven?”
“Yeah.”
I know this. I’ve been running the numbers. Mostly out of curiosity. My ex, Chris, told me he loved me after a month, and I said it back even though I wasn’t sure I felt the same. I’m not even sure he felt it to be honest. With Jackson, I feel loved, but for some reason, he hasn’t said it. I think it’s okay. I think feeling it is more important than saying it.
She sets down her fry and brushes the crumbs off her hands, giving me her full attention. “And if he doesn’t say it before he leaves, he probably won’t say it while he’s gone . . .”
I swallow, sifting through my rice with my fork even though I have no intention of taking another bite. “Probably.”
“Which means he might not say it until he comes back for the holidays?”
Letting out a breath, I set my fork onto my plate. “Or if I go visit him on tour, but it’s fine. There’s no rush.”
Rae frowns as our server comes to the table. “One mini molten for you two?”
Rae’s eyes jump from me to the tall blonde taking our order. “Make it the big one.”
I’m about to disagree with her, but she gives me a look that lets me know she can see right through me, and she’s right. This conversation calls for the bigger cake. “Okay. One regular molten,” I agree with a nod.
“You’ve got it.” Our server disappears into the back, and I brace myself for the way Rae is inevitably still looking at me.
“Rae, I prom?—”
“Do you love him?”
I blink. “What?”
She rolls her eyes. “It’s not a hard question.” With a shrug, she asks again, “Do you love him?”
“Um . . .” I don’t know how to answer her. It’s not that I doubt my feelings for Jackson, but I’m also okay with the fact that we haven’t said those three words yet. Our relationship doesn’t feel like it’s lacking anything. Most days I don’t even think about how we haven’t exchanged the phrase. I only think about it when the occasional prickling thought settles into the back of my mind—or when I’m talking to Rae, apparently. “I don’t know. ”
She gives me a heavy-lidded stare. “You’ve been with him for over six months. You know.” She throws her hands in the air. “Hell, I know you love him just by being around you two.”
Our server sets the fudgy, chocolate cake with ice cream, Magic Shell, and a caramel drizzle in front of us. “Let’s drop it,” I say, even though I know there’s no use.
Without looking at her, I take my spoon and dig in.
She doesn’t do the same.
She’s still just waiting for me to give her a better explanation.
I let out a groan and swallow my bite. “I don’t want to talk about it. If I admit anything out loud, I’m going to think about it. I’m going to start overanalyzing why he hasn’t said it. And I’m going to drive myself insane. So, let’s just drop it, okay? I’m happy.”
She looks like she’s trying to solve a complex puzzle as she dips her spoon into the caramel drizzle. “You could say it first, you know.”
I scoff and shove another bite of molten chocolate into my mouth. “I am definitely not saying it first.”
I may have grown a lot when it comes to not bottling up what I’m feeling, but the thought of making that confession is still too terrifying. What if it makes me come on too strong? What if he gets freaked out? What if he doesn’t say it back?
I’d rather not find out.