31. Margot
MARGOT
I t’s the best dinner I’ve ever had.
Not because of the food—though the main course and dessert was unreal—but because of him. Cal was sweet. Attentive. Funny. Thoughtful in the quiet, intentional way that makes me feel like I’m the only person in the room.
He felt like a whole new person tonight. Or maybe he’s been this person all along, and I’m only now letting myself see it.
We talk through dinner like we’ve known each other forever. Easy, unforced, real. He makes me laugh until my stomach hurts. He listens like every word I say matters.
Now I’m laughing again—he just made a dry comment about the dessert being good enough to propose over—and something about the way he’s watching me makes my heart beat faster.
It’s the way his eyes linger. Like I’m not just pretty. Like I’m his favorite view in the whole world.
And for the first time in a very, very long time, I feel truly wanted. Desired.
Not for what I can do. Not for how well I can hold everything together.
Just for being me.
I think… I’m happy. Really, genuinely happy. And that scares me more than a little.
Cal leans in slightly, his voice low and steady. “Margot… I really like you. A lot. And I don’t want to keep pretending I don’t. I’d love for us to be in a real relationship. Officially.”
My heart skips. The warmth in his eyes, the way he says it—it feels like something sacred.
Something I’ve waited a long time to hear.
But there’s also the stark reality of this moment, reminding me that it’s never going to be easy.
Soon, Cal will return to the city, and I’ll be back here in town, wondering what he’s doing and when we’ll see each other again.
Would we survive it?
Can we do it?
But as I look at him, at his earnest expression, I already know. Despite my valid worries about our situation, one thing is clear: I want to make this work, and I want to trust my ability to put in my best.
So I smile at Cal, but I don’t rush. “I’d love that too,” I say honestly. “But I still want to know you better. Really know you.”
He nods, no hesitation. “You will,” he says simply, like it’s a promise.
Then he takes my hand, turns it gently in his, and presses a kiss to my knuckles.
Something in me melts.
I don’t doubt Cal’s affection for a second. It’s in his eyes—so open, so sure. Like he’s been waiting for me to catch up, and now that I have, he’s not letting go.
My fingers are still wrapped in his, the warmth of his lips lingering on my skin, and all I can think about is how much I want to hold on to this moment. Bottle it. Frame it. Tell the whole world about it.
I can’t wait to tell my sisters, my parents. Aunt Edie. Mia.
Oh, Mia. She’s going to scream when she hears this.
But right now, I just sit there, smiling at him like a fool, heart racing in the best way. Because somehow, in the quiet clink of silverware and candlelight, this doesn’t feel like the end of a date.
It feels like the start of something beautiful.
He glances at me as he leans back a soft smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Ready to go?”
I nod. “Yeah.”
He flags down an attendant and pulls out his wallet, handling the bill with quiet ease. I can feel his hand graze mine again as we leave, and my heart skips like it’s still our first hour together.
Outside, the night air is cooler now, brushing against my arms and carrying the scent of night blossoms from somewhere nearby. The valet brings the truck around, headlights glowing softly under the Stars sign, and Cal walks ahead to open the passenger door for me.
But just as I step toward the seat, I turn—and he’s already there.
His hand touches my waist like muscle memory, like he’s been doing this forever. I lean in slightly without thinking, and the space between us disappears.
The kiss is gentle at first. Warm, patient. But then his hand slides up to cradle the side of my face, and something in me melts completely. It’s not rushed. It’s not showy.
It’s just us. Just this.
Then— Ahem .
A pointed throat-clear cuts through the night air.
We break apart, slowly, like waking from a dream. I blink, startled, and turn toward the sound. My stomach dips.
Raymond—the reporter from yesterday.
He’s standing just a few feet away, hands in his coat pockets, his messenger bag slung across his chest like yesterday—but there’s also a camera hanging around his neck. I’m ready to call him out for following me around, for ignoring my polite “no” about his stupid pitch for a story.
But when I open my mouth, I realize something’s wrong.
Raymond isn’t looking at me.
He’s staring at Cal.
And his expression? It’s not curiosity.
It’s recognition. Like he’s just uncovered a secret.
Cal moves without hesitation. He steps in front of me, subtly, protectively. His voice is firm when he speaks. “Who are you?”
Raymond gives a small smile, one that makes my stomach twist in the worst way. “Calvin Hale,” he says, voice calm, like he’s just confirmed something. “It’s good to see you again.”
I glance at Cal, confused. His jaw tightens. He doesn’t respond to Raymond. Instead, he tries to guide me gently toward the car.
“Margot,” he says under his breath, “please get in.”
But I don’t move.
I can feel it. The shift. The crack in the air between us.
I turn to him, my hand resting against his chest. “Cal,” I ask quietly, “do you know who he is?”
He hesitates. It’s so small, barely a second—but I feel it.
Then he shakes his head. “No,” he says, too quickly. “I don’t.”
And just like that, everything inside me stills.
Raymond’s smile sharpens. “I’m a journalist,” he says, reaching into his coat just enough to flash a press ID, like that’s supposed to make this any better. “I’ve been trying to track you down for weeks. Didn’t expect to find you hiding out in Everfield.”
I freeze.
Hiding out?
“What do you want?” Cal’s voice drops, low and dangerous. It’s not the soft, teasing tone from dinner. It’s nothing like the man I’ve come to know. This voice is steel.
“I just want to ask a few questions,” Raymond says casually, like he’s not standing here wrecking a perfect night. “Maybe give you a chance to clear the air. You disappeared without a word, Calvin. People are still asking why.”
People are asking? Who are these people?
Cal steps forward, his arm instinctively reaching behind him—like he’s shielding me. “Leave,” he growls.
It’s a sound I’ve never heard from him before. It’s not just anger. It’s warning. And suddenly, I realize—I don’t know this version of him at all.
Raymond doesn’t budge. If anything, he plants his feet firmer, like he’s here for the long haul. Cal turns to me again, jaw tight, his voice low but desperate.
“Please, Margot. Please get in.”
Something about the way he says it—like he’s not just trying to protect me from Raymond, but from something bigger—makes my chest tighten. I nod and slip into the car.
He shuts the door, firm but not angry, just… urgent.
By the time he circles around to the driver’s side, Raymond’s already raising his camera. The flashes go off one after the other, stinging my eyes even from inside the car.
“Will you be coming back to L.A. soon, or is this your new life?” Raymond shouts.
L.A.?
“I heard you sold TechBit for five billion dollars—is that true, Cal?”
Five billion what?!
The door swings open and Cal slides into the driver’s seat. He doesn’t say a word, just slams the door, throws the car into gear, and drives.
Silence stretches between us, thick and heavy. I don’t know whether to ask, to wait, or to panic.
But one thing’s for sure.
The man beside me isn’t just the sweet stranger who checked into my inn.
He’s someone much, much more. I turn to him, my pulse still thudding from the chaos we just escaped.
“What was that about?” I ask, quieter than I expect. My voice feels small in the tense silence of the car.
He releases a deep breath. “I will tell you everything. I promise.”
As we near the inn, my heart starts to break—because I know this night will end in the worst way possible, and we may not be able to survive it.