“You’re right,” she said. “I should go.” She collected her wrap and her purse and plunked thirty dollars on the bar, which Griff pushed back at her.
“Please,” he said. “My treat.”
“Absolutely not,” she said.
“I insist,” he said.
She reclaimed her money and said, “Well, thank you for the drinks. And thank you for listening.” He had been attentive, he hadn’t tried to offer platitudes or advice. He had been a capital L Listener. Every family wedding, Margot realized, needed a Listener.
“My pleasure,” Griff said.
Margot slid off the leather barstool. She felt even more conflicted than when she had walked in here. On top of her other avalanche of emotions was regret about having to leave Griffin Wheatley, Homecoming King.
Griff said, “Margot, are you dating anyone?”
She said, “Oh, sort of.” Then she laughed because those three words had to represent a situation so complex she couldn’t begin to explain it.
He said, “I figured I had some kind of competition, but I wasn’t sure what form it took.”
He walked her home, holding her arm as she crossed the cobblestones of Main Street. As they walked up Orange, Margot began to wonder about the rest of her family. Would they be home? Would they be awake? Margot had, essentially, vanished, and her phone didn’t work, so no one would have been able to reach her. She couldn’t believe how liberating it was to be untethered.
The next thing she knew, she and Griff were standing on the sidewalk a few doors down from her house. There was a fat gibbous moon above them, and the clock tower of the Unitarian Church was illuminated.
Margot said, “Really, I can’t thank you enough…”
Griff put his hands on either side of her neck and held her like that for a second, then he kissed her softly on the lips. Then again, then again, more urgently, then there was tongue, and a flood of desire. Margot was breathless. She thought, This is the best first kiss I’ve ever had, and this is the worst first kiss precisely because of how good it is, because once he finds out what I did, he will never kiss me again. Therefore she had to be greedy now. Margot kissed him and kissed him, tongue, lips, hands, hair, she pulled on him, she could not get enough. She thought, Edge who? Kissing Edge had never felt like this. Kissing Edge had been like kissing an old man, sometimes their teeth clicked, sometimes his breath was sour. And yet Edge had such a stranglehold on her, he held her captive, so much so that she had been willing, eager even, to wrong this man right here. It was the secret of Edge that was addictive, it was his beautifully cut suits and his expensive watch. It was the fact that he should rightfully treat Margot like treasure, but he treated her carelessly, and the more carelessly he treated her, the more obsessed she became.
Griff pulled away, and Margot thought, No! She worried that he wasn’t enjoying the kissing as much as she was. Was insane desire and electricity like this ever one-sided?
He said, “I have a confession to make.”
She believed he was about to admit to a girlfriend, or even a fiancée, although his pursuit of her had been zealous to say the very least. She thought, I don’t care if he is married or engaged or if he’s been dating someone a year or three months or a week.
“What?” she said.
He said, “I’ve had a crush on you since the first second I saw you.”
Her feet in her silver heels turned icy. They were suddenly so cold that they hurt; she couldn’t move her toes.
“From the minute you first shook my hand,” he said. “I thought you were so pretty then. But pretty was the least of it. You were smart and capable, and… so tough on me. You asked the most exacting questions. It was a turn-on. I couldn’t ask you for your number then, obviously. I thought about calling you at work after I’d been signed off, but I wasn’t sure if… well, I thought it might be awkward for you. I didn’t expect to ever see you again, especially not on the ferry to Nantucket.”
“Oh,” she said. She flooded with shame, with panic. Smart, capable, tough… exacting questions… a turn-on. Jesus!
“And please don’t worry about the outcome of all of that,” Griff said. “I’m sure the other guy was a better match.”
Margot said, “I… I can’t talk about it.”
“Of course not,” Griff said. “Obviously. I’m sorry.”
I’m sorry! Margot thought.
He said, “Can I see you tomorrow?”
Tomorrow? Margot thought. Tomorrow was the wedding. She would be busy all day and night, and Edge was coming. She had liked kissing Griff, she had liked it a lot, but she hated herself for what she’d done. Griff was such a good guy. Margot had always thought of herself as a good guy… until that phone call with Drew Carver, when she had become a not-good guy. Margot could never confess to it. But she also couldn’t see Griff again, or kiss him again, without confessing to it.