stared down at the brown bottle rapidly warming in my suddenly sweaty grip.
“Margo.” Kevin ran a finger along the back of my arm, a move that would normally have made me take his hand and drag him to the bedroom, even in the middle of a hot June afternoon.
It wasn’t going to work this time.
“Don’t ‘Margo’ me.” I leaped up and walked away from him, feeling trapped. “You know I don’t want to get married.”
“I thought that was just temporary. I didn’t think you meant never.”
Kevin actually looked really upset. And for a fleeting moment—less than a moment, really, a nanosecond—I felt sorry for him.
It didn’t last.
All I could think about was my mother and her soon-to-be eleventh marriage and how every one of the first ten had ended—in loud voices, hurt feelings and another round of my mother taking to her bed in despair and depression. It would kill me to ever put a kid through that. To say nothing of myself.
Marriage was not on my agenda, now or ever.
“What part of the word ‘never’ was unclear?” I flopped into my desk chair and looked Kevin directly in the eye, making sure he knew I was serious. “I like things just the way they are.”
“Well, I don’t. Look. You could sell your apartment—”
“No! I like my apartment.”
“You don’t live in it, so what’s the point?”
I stared at him. The point was that, with the Upper East Side apartment I kept in my name, but sublet to a young married couple, I still had a place to go.
“I just can’t,” I said instead, as if that explained it all.
Kevin wandered over and squatted down beside me, taking one of my hands in his. “Margo, I love you.”
I blinked. He didn’t say it often. I never said it. I didn’t think I had it in me. When Lance had told me he loved me, I left him. I couldn’t handle it. I had progressed, really. I mean, I hadn’t left when Kevin first said it to me. I don’t know why. With Kevin, they were only words. Words I could ignore…until now.
Kevin Timber and I were compatible, in and out of bed, most of the time. We liked some of the same things—mostly foods and movies—and what we didn’t both like, we were perfectly content to do separately. But Kevin still didn’t understand certain things about me. My aversion to marriage for instance.
In the past, Kevin always let it slide when I never repeated his declaration of love. Not this time.
“Say it back to me, Margo.”
“I…I can’t, Kevin. I’m sorry.” He started to pull his hands away, and I grabbed them back. “I’m really sorry. It’s not that I don’t care. I just…” I wouldn’t make promises I couldn’t keep. Promises I’d learned through many childhood lessons were virtually impossible to keep.
Kevin clamped his lips together and stood. I let him go.
“I need some time to think,” he said, his voice devoid of emotion. He turned and left the apartment.
I hadn’t even told him about losing my job. I wasn’t sure if it would have helped or hurt.
***
My Elvis bedside clock said 11:00 p.m. when I finally heard the key scrape in the front door. Kevin arrived in the bedroom a few minutes later, and I shut off the Viva Las Vegas DVD I’d been watching. Just me and Elvis, forgetting my troubles. Only it hadn’t worked very well.
“Hey.”
Kevin grunted and headed for the bathroom, looking a little rough around the edges. He’d probably been at Jeffrey’s. He didn’t go there often, as it wasn’t the normal hang-out for his accountant friends. He’d been there a few times with me and went occasionally on his own, because it was close. Especially when we’d been arguing and he needed to get away.
It took another ten minutes before he came out of the bathroom in boxers and no shirt. Kevin had a gorgeous chest, and when he slipped into bed, I ran a hand over his pecs, hoping we could put this nonsense behind us and have some incredible make-up sex.
“Have you changed your mind?” he asked,
“Margo.” Kevin ran a finger along the back of my arm, a move that would normally have made me take his hand and drag him to the bedroom, even in the middle of a hot June afternoon.
It wasn’t going to work this time.
“Don’t ‘Margo’ me.” I leaped up and walked away from him, feeling trapped. “You know I don’t want to get married.”
“I thought that was just temporary. I didn’t think you meant never.”
Kevin actually looked really upset. And for a fleeting moment—less than a moment, really, a nanosecond—I felt sorry for him.
It didn’t last.
All I could think about was my mother and her soon-to-be eleventh marriage and how every one of the first ten had ended—in loud voices, hurt feelings and another round of my mother taking to her bed in despair and depression. It would kill me to ever put a kid through that. To say nothing of myself.
Marriage was not on my agenda, now or ever.
“What part of the word ‘never’ was unclear?” I flopped into my desk chair and looked Kevin directly in the eye, making sure he knew I was serious. “I like things just the way they are.”
“Well, I don’t. Look. You could sell your apartment—”
“No! I like my apartment.”
“You don’t live in it, so what’s the point?”
I stared at him. The point was that, with the Upper East Side apartment I kept in my name, but sublet to a young married couple, I still had a place to go.
“I just can’t,” I said instead, as if that explained it all.
Kevin wandered over and squatted down beside me, taking one of my hands in his. “Margo, I love you.”
I blinked. He didn’t say it often. I never said it. I didn’t think I had it in me. When Lance had told me he loved me, I left him. I couldn’t handle it. I had progressed, really. I mean, I hadn’t left when Kevin first said it to me. I don’t know why. With Kevin, they were only words. Words I could ignore…until now.
Kevin Timber and I were compatible, in and out of bed, most of the time. We liked some of the same things—mostly foods and movies—and what we didn’t both like, we were perfectly content to do separately. But Kevin still didn’t understand certain things about me. My aversion to marriage for instance.
In the past, Kevin always let it slide when I never repeated his declaration of love. Not this time.
“Say it back to me, Margo.”
“I…I can’t, Kevin. I’m sorry.” He started to pull his hands away, and I grabbed them back. “I’m really sorry. It’s not that I don’t care. I just…” I wouldn’t make promises I couldn’t keep. Promises I’d learned through many childhood lessons were virtually impossible to keep.
Kevin clamped his lips together and stood. I let him go.
“I need some time to think,” he said, his voice devoid of emotion. He turned and left the apartment.
I hadn’t even told him about losing my job. I wasn’t sure if it would have helped or hurt.
***
My Elvis bedside clock said 11:00 p.m. when I finally heard the key scrape in the front door. Kevin arrived in the bedroom a few minutes later, and I shut off the Viva Las Vegas DVD I’d been watching. Just me and Elvis, forgetting my troubles. Only it hadn’t worked very well.
“Hey.”
Kevin grunted and headed for the bathroom, looking a little rough around the edges. He’d probably been at Jeffrey’s. He didn’t go there often, as it wasn’t the normal hang-out for his accountant friends. He’d been there a few times with me and went occasionally on his own, because it was close. Especially when we’d been arguing and he needed to get away.
It took another ten minutes before he came out of the bathroom in boxers and no shirt. Kevin had a gorgeous chest, and when he slipped into bed, I ran a hand over his pecs, hoping we could put this nonsense behind us and have some incredible make-up sex.
“Have you changed your mind?” he asked,
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