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“You arenotgoing to—” Sumner began, but I already answered and put the call on speaker.
“Hi, Destelle,” I greeted, holding the wheel with one hand and my phone with the other. “I was beginning to think you lost this number.”
“I know, I’m the worst,” Destelle groaned. “In my defense, it’s been crazy.”
Sumner pried my phone out of my hand, grabbing my wrist and forcing my fingers to curl back around the steering wheel. “I can multitask,” I whispered to him, low enough for Destelle not to pick up. Sumner vehemently shook his head.
“What’s that noise? Are you driving?”
“A golf cart.”
“How’d you get one? I thought you were on the ban list.”
Sumner had an expression that saidoh, so everyone knows but me. I slowed down so the engine of the cart wouldn’t be as loud, and so Sumner wouldn’t have a heart attack and drop my phone. “I’m offended you doubt me.”
Destelle laughed on the other end of the phone, but it was riddled with tension. “Listen,” she began in a hesitating voice and then paused again, which raised my guard. Disappointment set in even before she spoke. “They added one last show to the tour. One of the bigger venues in San Bernadino had a spot open up, and the band booked it.”
I lifted my foot off the gas pedal, the golf cart slowing in a relieved response. Even with preparing for her guilty tone, it hadn’t softened the blow. “So, youwon’tbe home for Annalise’s wedding.” It was a statement.
“I know, I know,” Destelle rushed, and I could imagine her rubbing her hands into her features. “Their manager didn’t check with everyone before they agreed, and they?—”
“You could still come home. You don’t have to be there for every show.” Immediately, I wanted to suck the whining words back in, especially since it wasn’t just Destelle who’d heard them.
“I know, I just—it’s the last show, and everyone will want to celebrate, and I really wish I could?—”
I hated everything about this moment. I hated the fact that I made Destelle stumble over her words in defense, making her feel guilty for living her life. I hated the fact that the call was on speaker and Sumner couldhear all of it. I hated the sunset and the golf cart and myself. “Don’t give yourself premature wrinkles,” I told her, affecting a firmer, nonchalant tone to replace the childlike plaintive one. “Save those for your thirties.”
“I’d totally rather be there for the wedding,” Destelle said, though we both could hear the lie. She was just trying to make me feel better.
It made me even more pathetic. “Please, even I’d rather be at a concert than the wedding, and that’s saying something. Enjoy listening to your boyfriend perform.”… the same songs they’ve been playing for the past month and a half.
“I’ll still be coming the day after. I can meet Aaron then—if you’re still going through with it, that is.”
I’d never gotten a chance to tell her about the video call that didn’t happen. At the mention of Aaron, though, Sumner returned his gaze back to me. I refused to look over. “Yes, I am.”
“You’re always so independent and strong, I have no doubt it’s going to go just fine. Have Nancy give you a pep talk beforehand, then, okay? Or call me—I should be free in the morning if you need someone to talk you out of it.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
Destelle and I hemmed and hawed on the phone for a few more moments before we hung up. Even after the call ended, Sumner and I sat still in silence, thoughts brewing like a storm in my mind.
It was more than Destelle not being able to show up for a wedding. A wedding didn’t matter. But she was going to be by my side and get me through one of my first encounters with Aaron, andthat was the most important thing. Disappointment welled, causing the back of my throat to tighten.
“Margot,” Sumner began.
“Don’t,” I warned, but the word came out tired.
He didn’t. Instead, Sumner set my phone down on the seat between us, pulling his hand back to rest on his knee. Only for a second, though. When I reached for my phone, to tuck it back into my pocket so we could drive back to the country club, Sumner’s hand shifted back over and grabbed mine. A comforting warmth spread from his fingers as they gently wrapped around my palm, thawing the icy chill in my skin. The contact was like a spark, jumpstarting my heart.
I looked at our combined hands and then up to him.
“I figured your apology earlier meant I could touch you again,” he said, and then he must’ve seen the question in my eyes. “It’s meant to be comforting. Like a ‘I’m here with you’ touch. No one’s held your hand in comfort before?”
That was what this was meant to be? Our palms pressing together, holding hands for the first time ever.Comfort? Granted, it felt as if his warmth thawed out a bit of my frost, but in a way that left me feeling uneven, like an ice sculpture out in the sun. Comforting would’ve been the last way I’d describe it.
“I know what you’re thinking,” he murmured. His fingers readjusted with mine, pressing our palms firmer together. “And Destelle not making it home for the wedding doesn’t mean you’re not important.”
“Of course not,” I returned, speaking past my aching throat. “It just means she’s busy.”