“I warned you about him because I care about you, Margot. I don’t want to see you get hurt.”
Frustration rises in my chest. Everyone is talking about this as if it hardly even involves me. Like they all know best, and I’m just over here on the sidelines waiting to be acknowledged. Garrett and Emma, the board of directors, even this stupid magazine. At the end of the day, this is between me, Ethan, and exactly no one else.
“No, Emma, you didn’t warn me,” The words come out like venom on my tongue. “You spent an entire year not-so-subtly hinting that Ethan North would be a better match for me than my actual boyfriend. Then when I finally agreed, you made a cryptic comment about Ethan then rushed off the phone. No details, no context, nothing that would actually help me make a rational, informed decision.”
Emma’s tone is equally venomous when she replies, “Maybe you should ask Ethan for the details. I mean, has he even told you anything about his past? Do you know about Rachel? About Sophia?”
Rachel and Sophia? What does this have to do with them?
“I-I’ve met them,” is all I manage to say.
“So, you’re just okay with Ethan literally buying a house in Denver so his ex-wife can move there? You’re fine with him spending all this time with her?”
I stammer out a few syllables that make zero sense. How could they? None of this makes any sense at all.
Ethan was married?
To Rachel?
That can’t be right…
He never said a word about it.
Emma sighs. “You didn’t know.” It’s not a question. A long pause follows. “Look, I’m sorry, Margot. I shouldn’t have said anything, but at least you know now. Go talk to Ethan, okay? I’ll be home tomorrow. We’ll talk more then.”
I don’t know what to say, so I don’t say anything at all.
“Are you okay, Margot?” she asks, her voice softer now.
“I’m okay,” I lie.
There’s a sob lodged in my throat, threatening to break loose if I speak again. The tears are already spilling silently down my cheeks.
“Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow,” Emma says cautiously. She waits another second before hanging up.
My hands shake as I lower my phone to my side. The urge to throw it into the river rises inside of me, quelled only by my inability to move.
To speak.
To think.
To feel anything at all except the hollow spot in my chest, gutted clean by the thought of Ethan having an ex-wife. The thought of him lying to me about it while parading her around right in front of me.
Down the short path, Ethan’s eyes lift from the screen of his phone, connecting with mine. Instantly, he knows. My tears give everything away. He springs to his feet, hurrying down the path toward me in wide, steady strides.
He reaches out to wipe a tear from my cheek, and my shock turns to rage. Everything comes flooding back in—the sound of the rushing river at my side, the chill of the crisp mountain air, the warmth of his touch on my cheek.
But it doesn’t comfort me. It burns.
I pull away, my tears instantly washing away the heat of his touch.
“Margot.” My name is a question and a plea on his tongue.
It’s too much.
I march up the path, dirt crunching under my feet. Ethan says my name again, following a step behind.
“Please, Margot. Talk to me.”