Chapter 15 Margot
Margot
This is what always happens.
Most people have a problem with saying everything that pops into their head.
They can’t filter their thoughts. But I have the opposite problem: I filter myself too much.
When I’m with someone new, I whittle my thoughts down, discarding every word that seems redundant or uninteresting until there’s nothing left.
It’s a habit I’ve carried with me ever since I was a little kid.
My mom always said it was a middle child thing, but I think it’s just a me thing.
There are four other middle children in my family, none of whom are plagued by the same social ineptitude.
I thought it might be different with Ethan. Conversation with him has always come easy. He has a way of putting me at ease, and I never worry as much about filtering myself when he’s around.
But the man sitting next to me right now isn’t the same Ethan North that I’ve come to know over the past two years.
The second he shifted into date mode, he became someone else entirely.
The charming smiles that I’m used to are amplified by a volume of ten.
Even with that ridiculous mustache adhered to his upper lip, I can’t ignore the way I feel that smile deep in my stomach… and worse, in between my thighs.
I was wrong before: Ethan and Nick are not the same. Nick was handsome and charming, but Ethan takes it to another level. And obviously, I am not equipped to handle it. Not at all.
“Okay, new plan,” Ethan says.
Thank god.
Maybe we can order a pizza and assemble some furniture. That’s where I shine—cramming pizza into my face and reading instructions out loud while Ethan screws the legs onto a coffee table.
But Ethan has other ideas.
“Tell me something I don’t already know about you,” he says.
I ponder this for a few seconds. “I hate clowns.”
Ethan laughs. “Everybody hates clowns. Give me something else. Give me your deepest, darkest secret.”
The look he gives me is suggestive and smoldering, yet somehow playful.
This version of Ethan is unfamiliar, dangerously so.
I suddenly understand how he’s so good at dating.
No woman could resist the way he’s looking at me right now.
His gaze pins me in place, as if I’m the only woman in the room.
Maybe the only woman in all of existence.
The intensity of it slides over my skin, sinking deeper, buzzing through every nerve.
It’s heady, intoxicating, making me crave more.
Feeling thoroughly off kilter and perhaps a little too truthful, I blurt out, “I won a pie baking contest once.”
“That’s your deepest, darkest secret?” he asks, raising one very skeptical eyebrow.
One very sexy skeptical eyebrow.
A sexy eyebrow?
Pull yourself together, Margot. It’s literally a small patch of hair on his face.
I take a deep breath. “It was a store-bought pie. Jeremy’s mom pretty much told me I was required to bring one to their county fair, even though I’m not much of a baker. Some patriarchal small-town bullshit. I never expected to win, but I never told anyone the truth either.”
“What kind of pie was it?”
“I don’t even know.”
Ethan laughs and raises the glass to his mouth. Right as the whiskey grazes his lip, his fake mustache slides right off his face and plops down into the expensive amber liquid. He frowns down at the floating strip of fur while I burst into laughter.
“I guess the illusion is shattered,” he jokes, fishing it out of his glass.
I press a palm to my chest, feigning indignation. “I feel so misled.”
“Can’t have that, can we?” he laughs while trying to reattach the wet moustache to his upper lip. “How’s this look?”
“Majestic. Like a walrus that just emerged from the sea.”
Ethan drops his chin and raises one suggestive eyebrow at me. “Are you into that?”
“Not even a little bit.”
“No mustache it is then,” he says, pulling it off and sticking it to a napkin on top of the bar.
We go on like that for a while, trading deep, dark secrets and laughing while we slowly sip our drinks.
Over the course of an hour, I learn that Ethan is banned for life from the market off Lincoln for stealing candy as a kid, has a fake dog named Biscuit that sometimes serves as an excuse to dip out of dates early, and thinks little toes are sort of creepy.
Just when I’ve convinced myself that I’m not so bad at this dating thing after all, a couple walks into the bar, and the air is sucked straight out of my lungs. My heart thumps painfully against my sternum, and my skin grows cold and clammy.
“Are you okay?” Ethan pauses his story to ask.
“Mmhmm,” I nod, my throat tight and my voice an octave too high.
I try to look away, to look at anything at all besides the tall, dark-haired man and the busty blonde making their way past the hostess stand, but it’s like my brain is no longer in control of my eyeballs. Ethan glances over his shoulder at the couple then back at me.
“Is that…?”
“My ex,” I finish for him.
“Fuck, Margot, I’m sorry,” Ethan says in a low, husky voice. “I picked this place because I didn’t think we’d run into anyone we knew here. Maybe he’s staying somewhere nearby?”
I shake my head, finally tearing my gaze away from Jeremy and his coworker-turned-girlfriend, or whatever the hell they are. “No, I don’t think so. I assume he’s staying with family or friends, and none of them live in this area.”
But I know exactly why he’s here. Jeremy wants the best of everything, and this bar fits the bill.
Jeremy and his date make their way further into the bar, headed for a table in the back corner.
I duck behind Ethan, hoping that Jeremy doesn’t notice me sitting there.
The last thing I want to do right now is have an awkward conversation with my ex-boyfriend.
Ethan notices my evasive maneuvers and subtly shifts in his seat to block me from Jeremy’s view.
“Do you want to leave?” he asks.
I ponder my response for a few seconds. I don’t particularly want to speak to Jeremy, but I don’t want to leave because of him either.
“No,” I say. “It’s fine. We can stay.”
Ethan’s eyes roam over my face slowly, like he’s checking for any hint of a lie. “Okay, just let me know if you change your mind.”
For a while, things go back to normal. Ethan and I are deep in an ongoing debate of ours about how many penguins it would take to overthrow Ireland when I feel a heated gaze on the side of my face.
Having almost forgotten that Jeremy is here, I scan the bar for the source of the unwanted attention and find a familiar face staring back at me.
Our eyes lock for several long beats before Jeremy’s look hardens into a death glare, cutting to the man beside me.
“I think we’re making your ex jealous,” Ethan says quietly.
“Oh, he’s definitely jealous, but that probably has more to do with you than with me.”
Ethan’s brows knit together in confusion. “Why’s that?”
I take a slow sip of wine and focus my attention back on Ethan, ignoring the angry glare that’s still burning a hole in the side of my head.
“He never said anything about it, but I always got the vibe that Jeremy was jealous of you,” I explain.
“When we met, we were just a couple of scrappy, young college kids. Jeremy was sort of dorky, and I loved that about him. He wasn’t afraid to be himself.
But once we graduated and got jobs, everything started to change.
He cared more about the way people perceived him,” I swallow hard, casting my eyes down to the hem of my dress, “and the way people perceived me. I used to think it was just a phase, but looking back, I realize that Jeremy is desperate for the world to see him a certain way: attractive, intelligent, and successful. You’re all of the things he wishes he was.
Not to mention Denver’s Most Eligible Bachelor… ”
Ethan looks at me for a long, quiet moment, his expression unreadable. Finally, he asks, “Who’s the woman?”
My eyes shift to the table in the corner, where the blonde next to my ex is now staring at me. We only met a couple times. I have no idea if she remembers me, but it’s clear she’s not thrilled that her date seems distracted by my presence.
“His coworker,” I say, tucking my hair behind my ear and adjusting my glasses. “They started dating as soon as we broke up, but I think she might also be the woman he cheated on me with.”
Emotions clog my throat. I don’t want Jeremy back, but the memory of his betrayal is still fresh. The sting is mild but present, like hand sanitizer on a papercut.
Ethan takes a long sip of his drink. “I thought he wanted the freedom to sleep around. Isn’t that the whole point of open relationships? I’m surprised he jumped straight into another relationship after you two broke up.”
I shrug, deflating a little in my seat. “My only guess is that they were already headed towards a relationship, and he was hoping for my permission to parade her around in public. She’s exactly the type of woman he would want to be seen with—tall, fit, blonde, and beautiful.”
Most days, I feel fine about the way that I look, but I’m also aware that I don’t check any of those boxes.
A muscle in Ethan’s jaw jumps as he grinds his molars.
His eyes drop to my lap, where my fingers are fidgeting with the hem of my dress.
He reaches out, gently pulling my hand away from my dress and tangling my fingers in his.
Our intertwined hands come to rest on my knee.
My chest tightens at the tenderness in his touch and the look in his eyes.
“Margot, I’ve been on a lot of dates with a lot of women. I’ve gotten pretty good at sizing people up,” Ethan says. He tilts his head ever so slightly towards the table in the corner. “When a woman like that sends me a message on Sip, I don’t even bother to respond. Do you know why?”
I shake my head.