Page 109 of Caught in a Storm

“Just start driving north,” she says. “And drive fast. I’ll text you my address in a minute.”

She imagines Billy in her apartment. She can see him running his hands over the cymbals of her drum kit, taking her guitar off the wall and frowning at how out of tune it is. It’s a little presumptuous, because yeah, okay, she hasn’t known him long, but she can picture the photograph of them framed and hung up on the wall. Billy about to give her a high five, and Margot smiling as big as she’s ever smiled.

“Margot?” he says.

“Hmm.”

“The day you left,” he says. “I don’t know why I told you I was happy. I’m sorry about that.”

“Yeah?”

“I wasn’t,” he says. “And I’m not. I used to be. At least I thought I was. Then I met you. And then you went away. Twice, actually. And that made me realize that I don’t think it’s possible for me to be happy again without you.”

Margot wonders if the bartender can tell that she’s about to cry. “It’s a good thing I called, then,” she says.

There’s a grinding sound on the other end of the line, followed by a clunk, then silence. “Shit,” Billy says.

“What was that?”

“My car. It won’t start.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Hold on a sec. Lemme try again.”

Margot listens to Billy talk to the Champagne Supernova. His voice is gentle, like he’s comforting a small, frightened animal. “Come on, baby. You can do this. You’re a classic. Just one more time. You and me against the world.” And then he sighs. “Please?”

She’s never heard a car start over the phone before, but it sounds about like she would’ve thought.

“There we go! That’s my girl!”

She can hear the smile in his voice, like joy. “We’re good?”

“Never better,” Billy says. “I’m on my way.”

From her barstool, Margot can see out onto the street. It’s getting dark out there. She’s turned around—maybe a little lost. But that’s okay. She’ll be home soon.