The only thing worse than having that conversation at the office is enduring eight hours of awkward silence. Margot and I have never gone a full workday without talking. I don’t even know what that would look like. All I know is that I can’t let this ruin everything between us. Now more than ever, I need Margot in my life. Our friendship has changed over the past few weeks, quickly becoming something I rely on. With other aspects of my life changing, I need the comfort and stability of my friendship with her.
And I think she might need it, too.
Reaching for the phone, I tap Margot’s extension. On the opposite side of the glass wall, the phone rings, pulling her attention away from her computer. There’s a beat of hesitation before she answers.
“Do you have a minute to talk in my office?”
“Of course.” She agrees quickly but stands slowly.
We have a lot of private meetings in here. So far, none of them have been about the two of us falling asleep in the same bed and waking up cuddling. That’s about to change, and it makes me nervous.
Margot appears in the doorway a minute later with a notebook and pen clutched in one hand. Maybe it’s out of habit, maybe it’s out of hope that this meeting is actually about work.
She closes the door behind her then takes a seat in one of the gray chairs on the opposite side of my desk.
“I figured we should talk.” Although, I now realize that I have no idea what I’m planning to say. Stalling, I add, “About Saturday morning…”
She nods lightly, my words confirming what she already expected.
The air thickens instantly. She crosses her arms lightly over her waist, not defensively, but like she just needs something to do with her hands.
I clear my throat. “I want to apologize.”
“That’s not necessary,” she rushes to say.
“It is,” I insist. “My relationship with my brother and his family is complicated. Seeing them again dredged up some unexpected emotions, and I didn’t handle it very well. Asking you to leave like that, I know it must’ve felt… abrupt. Maybe even harsh. That wasn’t my intention.”
She exhales, her gaze flicking down to the notebook on her lap before returning to me. “I figured you needed some space.”
“I did, but that doesn’t excuse how poorly I handled it, especially after…” I stop myself, but the unspoken words still hang in the air.
Color rises in Margot’s cheeks, and she shifts slightly in her seat. “It’s fine, Ethan. I didn’t take it personally.”
A reassuring smile graces her lips, but her expression falters, just for a second. Something fragile and uncertain flashes in her eyes, and I hate that I’m the one who put it there.
“And trust me,” she continues with a faint laugh, “I’m not here to judge anyone for an emotional outburst. At least you didn’t get drunk and try to fight an office plant.”
The joke lands, but our laughs are thinner than usual. I smile anyway, grateful for the lifeline. For a second, it feels like we’re almost back to normal.
“Thank you for understanding,” I say quietly.
“No problem.” Her tone echoes mine.
Our eyes connect over the desk, holding each other’s gaze for a few long beats.
“I should probably get back to work,” Margot says, motioning towards the door. “Unless there was something else you wanted to talk about?”
I shake my head. “No, that’s all. Just wanted to clear the air and make sure we’re all good.”
“We’re good.” Margot gives me a small smile before standing, smoothing her skirt, and slipping out of my office.
The click of the office door behind her punctuates the end of the conversation. I lean back in my chair, letting out a long breath. We avoided the topic that mattered most: the near-kiss.
I know exactly what I should’ve said:It was a mistake. It won’t happen again. But when I looked at Margot, the words lodged in my throat like broken glass. It can’t happen again.
And that’s the only part I regret.
13