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“You should give that lady Simone’s number,” said Will. “She’ll be able to sniff out if she’s legit or just a weirdo.”
April pursed her lips. “Nah,” she said.
“No?”
“Nah. I can’t hit the man with my car, on account of I don’t have a car, or a license, and because he is presently about five thousand miles away. But I can make sure he doesn’t get everything he wants.”
“It’s your decision,” said Will. “Honestly.”
“Filming has finished now anyway,” said April. “I doubt it would make any difference. I just don’t think he deserves this.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” April stood up. “I’m off to write some fanfic in which a series of increasingly painful and humiliating things happen to Captain Kismet.”
No sooner had Will heard the front door close behind April than Margo returned to the living room, a wineglass in each hand and a bottle of Pinot Noir under one arm. He realized that he was being watched in shifts, and felt a touch of petulance at the idea, but reached out for a glass as Margo filled it all the same.
“So,” she said. “Patrick.”
“I don’t want to talk about him.”
“Fair.” She sat down on the dry side of the settee and took a contemplative sip of wine. “Jordan?”
“Him neither.”
“Fine.”
“He was such a bitch to me,” said Will, immediately changing his mind. “He just gets so high and mighty, you have no idea.”
“Oh, trust me, I get it,” said Margo, tucking her feet underneath her and getting comfortable for the venting portion of the breakup ritual. “Remember when I came on a night out to the Village with you guys, and he acted like you’d brought your mum out with you? Telling that story about railing some twink and then being all ‘Oh, sorry, Margo, didn’t mean to shock you.’ Like I was some kind of bumpkin! I’ve given birth, it takes a lot to shock me.”
“I’m sure.”
“The smell, Will.”
“I get the picture!”
“I’m just saying, I’m not brand-new. I am very aware that gender and sexuality are a vast and rich spectrum. I’m raising a nonbinary teenager, am I not? And sure, I’m doing the whole suburban-motherhood thing, and the only person I ever loved happened to be a man, but that doesn’t mean I’ve been shipped off to Stafford.”
“Do you mean Stepford?”
“Shut up.”
“I never knew Owen was the only person you loved,” Will said.
“Who else would there have been?” Margo asked.
Will shrugged.
“I suppose I just assumed all those nights you used to go out when we were younger, you were having all kinds of outrageous love affairs.”
“Oh, I was.” Margo’s face was deadpan. “The quickest way out of my teen angst was in the backseat of an older boy’s car. But love had very little to do with any of that. And then…” She placed her hands on her stomach and made a boom gesture. “Baby.”
“Baby,” Will repeated. He remembered when Margo had called him to tell him she was pregnant. Her tone had been characteristically neutral, and he’d had to ask her whether she was phoning him to tell him he was about to be an uncle, or because she needed a lift to the clinic. “I’m keeping it,” she’d said. “If only to see the look on Mum’s face.”
“Just Owen, then?” Will asked.
She let out a little pfft sound, and repeated Will’s own words: “I don’t want to talk about him.”
