42. Margot
42
margot
The cool air and bustle of New York gets quickly traded for heat, humidity, and palm trees. I’m surprised to see Rae’s Jeep Liberty already waiting front and center, and I pick up my pace. Opening the door and sliding inside, I toss my bag in the back. “Thanks for picking me up.”
She grins. “Of course. How was it?”
“Great,” I say a little breathless as I buckle my seatbelt, but my smile is genuine. Every second I spent with Jackson this weekend just made me wish we had more time. There’s still so much we could have seen and done . . . or talked about. I feel like even though I told him about my job and my life, I still could have talked to him about so much more. There just wasn’t enough time.
Well, I guess we could have talked more, but we chose to do . . . other things.
I don’t regret a second of that either. My memory jumps to us at the pool, and I can already feel my face flushing. I can’t believe we did that—I can’t believe I did that. Having sex out in the open like that was thrilling and reckless, and I never thought I’d be so willing to break the rules .
But with Jackson, I do break rules. With him, I hardly think about what we were doing and where we were doing it. All I can see is him.
“What did you guys do?”
I blink, hoping my expression doesn’t betray me, but Rae laughs.
“You two didn’t leave the room, did you?”
A slow smile creeps across my lips as I bite my thumb. “We did a little.”
Rae gives me a rueful smile. “I should have known.” With a shake of her head, she looks over her shoulder before pulling away from the curb.
“Okay, so we may have done a lot of that, but we were long overdue. Honestly, the trip was perfect. Too short. But perfect.”
She glances at me. “I figured it would be. You look good by the way—happy.”
“I am.” I smile, and it’s probably the most genuine one I’ve given her in weeks.
As we drive toward our apartment, I tell her all about Jackson’s show. I tell her how the crowds are getting bigger, and how people are recognizing him even when he’s not on stage. I tell her about Mya and the missing cashbox, and how Jackson’s plans didn’t work out, but I didn’t mind.
As Rae drives, she laughs and gasps at all the right times, and something about this drive back home feels nostalgic. Something about it feels like when we used to drive around together in high school and gush about all the boys we thought were cute.
Rae shakes her head. “He wanted to take you to a comedy show? Jackson?”
I shrug. “He just wanted to plan something I think.”
“I mean, I guess. I’d understand if he wanted to take you to see a band or something. Times Square I guess makes a little more sense but still. ”
“Yeah. He was really set on that one, but I’ll see it when I’m there longer than twenty-four hours.”
Rae gives me a sideways glance. “Did he tell you he loves you?”
The words hit me like a punch to the gut, and my cheeks warm. I shake my head. “No, not directly.” Even though my answer is true, it feels incomplete. The lyrics he shared have been echoing in the back of my mind ever since he murmured them against my skin.
Maybe they’re just lyrics, but I think they mean something more—I hope they mean something more.
The crease between Rae’s eyes deepens. “Do you think he was planning to? Maybe that’s why he worked so hard to plan a date?”
I pause, letting her words sink in. Could that have been the reason he wanted to go so badly? I guess it could have been, but it doesn’t make sense as to why he would have decided not to say it at all. “I don’t think so? I wouldn’t care where he tells me.” I let out a laugh. “He could have told me as we were walking into the pizza shop, and I would have been happy about it.”
Rae raises a brow. “Yeah, but does he know that?”
When I stare at her blankly, she waves her hand in the air. “I’m not saying you should have told him, but think about it. Jackson has never had a serious girlfriend, right?”
I nod.
“So, he’s probably never done this before. Maybe he thinks it needs to be a certain way.”
I let out a light laugh. “That doesn’t sound like Jackson at all.”
Rae joins me with an amused smile. “No, it doesn’t.” She shrugs. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m wrong.”
“Maybe,” I add lightly before looking out the window as we pull into our apartment. It doesn’t matter if she’s wrong or right. Even if Jackson was planning to tell me with some big romantic gesture in the middle of Times Square, he didn’t. Something held him back, and that’s okay. He’s always been the one who can communicate what he wants or how he feels. If he’s not ready to love me, I can respect that.
My phone vibrates in my lap, and I look down to see a message from Jackson. In my rush to get to Rae, I didn’t text him from the airport.
Jackson:
Everything okay?
Margot:
Yeah. Sorry, with Rae now. We just pulled into the apartment.
The three dots appear right away.
Jackson:
I miss you.
Margot:
Already?
Jackson:
Too much.
Rae parks her Jeep, but I can’t stop looking at his last message. It warms my chest in a way that only he can. It’s okay if he doesn’t want to say those three words. I feel pretty loved anyway.
Margot:
I miss you too.