Chapter 9 Homework （Margot）
HOMEWORK (MARGOT)
After the day I’ve had, there’s no freaking chance I’m getting any work done on my designs.
But I sit down at the desk anyway, stylus in hand. My tablet waits blankly in front of me like a mirror to my soul.
I want to focus on pretty shoes. Delicate heels and strappy sandals and pumps made with Cinderella-worthy class. Boots with so much sass they turn heads on a swivel, making every footstep a statement.
Wouldn’t boots like that fit Maine perfectly?
I’m not sure my heart will ever match my head when my muse whispers quietly. Right now, she’s being drowned out.
Kane.
Kane.
My unexpected white knight. Eighty percent devil and part-time gentleman.
Would the creeper have scattered for good without that big man charging out the door to protect us?
I wonder.
And I can’t wait to file a police report now, because even if I hadn’t seen him run past, the look on Kane’s face when he came back in, holding that lantern…
I shudder, even though I’m toasty warm in my purple robe.
…but what if he’s right?
If someone put in the effort to make a discreet lantern, who’s to say what they were up to?
I swear, they were watching me.
But along with the fear churning in my stomach, there’s a different jitter when I think about Kane Saint.
At first, he was all bravado. More eye-rolling rather than intimidating, even if he had that authoritative spark from the very beginning, when I felt like the intruder barging in.
Now, knowing he’s just a few doors down, ready to tear the heads off anyone who breaks into this house, it makes me feel safe.
Am I really such a shallow girly-girl?
The thought makes me snort.
Never, in all my twenty-five years alive, have I felt like I needed a protector.
When you’re a Blackthorn, there’s always someone watching your back.
Hired security at private events dripping with money. Or Holden Grumpface when I was little, always somewhere when PopPop was around, quietly making the rounds like a loyal guard dog.
The man could give Kane a run for his money, all sharp edges and hidden secrets.
I’m pretty sure he’s a single dad these days, too.
Looking after myself came naturally, though. Especially with parents who were more concerned about their next luxury stay in the Maldives than my emotional well-being.
But this feels different, a threat I’ve never known.
This isn’t some ass-clown trying to get close to me because they think I’m an easy in with Blackthorn money. I’ve lived and breathed that since I turned sixteen.
This person was stalking me.
Not online.
Not with cringey texts or unsolicited dick pics.
They invaded a special place very few people know about.
Of course, it’s no secret locally that I inherited this place after Gramps died, and we went into town where word travels fast. But there’s no one here with a grudge against me specifically.
Right?
Gramps on the other hand…
What did he do here alone? What was his life like in Sully Bay with my grandma, long before he ever brought us here as kids?
There’s a knock on my door, and my heart jumps up my throat.
Small miracle I don’t scream.
My legs tremble as I push up to stand, wrapping my robe tighter.
Kane again?
My heart starts humming for a different reason.
This late seems unlikely, and if it is, does it mean he’s rethought his whole mistake speech?
Is he about to storm in here bristling, ready to smother me in kisses and throw me on the bed?
When I open the door with my breath stalled, there’s a blank space where Kane’s head should be, towering above me.
Instead, I look down and see a munchkin.
Her hair’s messy and she’s wearing cotton pajamas with sheep on them.
“Sophie?”
“I can’t sleep,” she mumbles, swaying forward like I’ve already invited her in.
I glance up and down the hall.
Still and silent, just the way it should be.
Uncertain, I push the door open wider.
“What’s up? Did you hear something?”
“No, it’s not that.” She shakes her head and shuffles in as I close the door.
“Oh.” A quick glance at my smartwatch tells me it’s almost midnight. “What is it, then? Do you need your dad?”
She stops and looks at my desk with my tablet propped on its stand.
Her little eyes flash with a familiar light I’ve seen in Kane’s eyes.
“No, um… I just wanted to talk to you. Because you make shoes.”
Well, not really and not yet.
But she seems so serious, I don’t dare disappoint her with inconvenient facts.
“Sure, Soph. What’s up?”
I invite her to sit with me on the bed.
“So, I was thinking… could you help me get rid of these?” She flops down on the bed and holds up her black heavy shoe for inspection. I didn’t notice them in her hand earlier. “I hate them. I never get to wear anything pretty, not like other girls. Not like you.”
My heart pinches.
Poor, sweet baby.
The ortho shoes are ugly. They’re built for function, the aesthetics an afterthought, drab and clunky with thick straps laid over the top.
They also look too big for her feet. I guess that’s the point medically to give her extra support and protection.
But if I was stuck wearing these things, I’d be sad too.
I take my time, leaning in to examine them from every angle, turning her foot gently. “How long have you worn them?”
She pushes her glasses up her nose.
“This type, a few years. When I was little, I didn’t mind the others so much, but now… They’re like braces, but your teeth never get any better!”
My heart.
This is so wildly out of my scope as a designer, and I’m not even a real designer yet.
It’s just a wild dream backed by a fashion degree I was lucky to get. Designing something with medical considerations, that’s a whole different ballgame.
But she’s watching me with trusting green eyes and I can’t tell her no.
I can’t just explain away her hopes and dreams with lifeless logic, even if it’s the normal, adult thing to do.
“I’ll see what I can come up with, Sophie. Just give me some time,” I say firmly.
She leans forward and hugs me.
“Awesome! Thanks a ton, Margot. You rock.”
I rub her back, a little self-conscious.
I don’t deserve this little girl.
She’s already thanking me for a miracle I probably can’t deliver, and with so much gratitude you’d think I just made it rain puppies on parachutes.
But at the same time, warmth blooms in my chest.
I’m not used to kids hugging me. It’s surprisingly nice, and her skinny arms around my neck feel reassuring.
I give her a parting squeeze.
“I’ll definitely help out if I can, but just know, I can’t promise anything. Are you cool with that?”
“Oh, yeah, I know,” she says earnestly. “But that’s better than no one trying at all, right?” My surprise must show on my face, because she adds, “Dad’s cool and all. He just doesn’t get wanting to look pretty.”
No, I don’t suppose he does.
Dadzilla might be an expert at a lot of things, but that excludes his little girl’s style and self-image.
Sophie watches me a second longer, her small face pinched in thought.
“You know, it’s okay if you wanna kiss him,” she says slowly.
What?
I sputter, my fist banging my chest as I try to parse what she said. Surely, she didn’t actually mean—
“Kiss? Honey, are you talking about me and… your dad?”
She gives me a dull look. “Well, yeah. Who else?”
I can’t breathe.
“Why would you say that?”
“Dan said he saw you guys kissing in the attic.”
Holy shit!
I freeze.
“No, that was—” I stop before I hit a new low point in my life.
Dan did see. Or he’s smart enough to add it up.
I’m mortified.
“It’s cool, Margot,” Sophie whispers gently.
“It’s not cool. Not even a little.” My voice is so faint. No version of this fact will ever be okay. “It was a mistake, really—an accident. We weren’t thinking and we’re never going to do it again.”
What else can I offer her but the truth?
I think she’ll be relieved, or at least she’ll pick up on my humiliation and back off, but it turns out I’ve misjudged her.
She just folds her arms and looks at me stubbornly.
“You should.”
“I can’t believe we’re having this conversation.” I stop short of burying my face in my hands.
“Dad needs a girlfriend,” she hisses.
It’s so comical I could almost forgive her for springing this on me.
“I doubt he’d agree. And besides, Sophie, um…”
Where do I even start?
How do you explain to a child that a kiss doesn’t mean two people want a serious relationship?
Especially two people like us.
Kane Saint couldn’t be more different from everything I know.
Kids. Baggage. Big homemade breakfasts instead of croissants and coffee or green smoothies from a grab-and-go café.
Nothing says he even likes me enough to want to kiss me again beyond our shared thirst.
When I tried talking to him about it like a normal human being, he just bowed up and denounced what happened.
Probably for the best, honestly, because I’ve already decided it should never happen again.
But still.
There’s a difference between knowing something and having the man you kissed in a stuffy attic tell you what an awful move it was.
Especially when I’m the one who kissed him first.
Arrogant prick.
If it was a ginormous mistake—and yes, we both agree on that—then it was mine.
“Dad hasn’t been with anybody since Mom,” Sophie confesses with wide eyes.
I hate that I’m interested in this little nugget of news.
“Your mom?”
“Oh, she has loads of boyfriends. I barely remember their names.” Sophie’s voice is scathing. “Dad, he should get one lady friend, at least. It’s only fair.”
Oh, man.
I have no earthly clue how to interpret that statement, but my heart skips anyway.
So their mom is still in their life, but things are strained.
I mean, he has the kids here for fall, which must mean he has primary custody?
Not that I know much about how all that works. But I can’t pass up this opportunity to find out more.
I draw my legs up under me and face her like we’re two besties at a slumber party.
“What’s your mom like, anyway? Apart from the boyfriends, I mean.”