Before You Go (YA Romance) (16 page)

He seemed to thrive in her presence. He said the right things, smiled at the right times… His presentation was seamless, and he did it all while avoiding Margo’s eyes. It was almost impossible to believe that this turbo-charged phony was the same person who’d kissed her.

That Logan and this were polar opposites, and only one of them was real.

She distracted herself from the ache in her chest by wondering what her mother was doing here. Logan had mentioned something about July Fourth, but could it be a birthday celebration for her? It was ridiculous to even think it, but her birthday was July fifth. It was always possible—except it wasn’t.

Margo shook her head.
Time to stop being stupid.

Logan wound up between her and her egg donor in the food line. When Margo burned her hands on the asparagus tongs, he snatched them away and tossed a few stalks on her plate. As they stepped out onto the deck, and he pulled out Cindy’s chair, then hers, Margo reminded herself again that she didn’t know him. What she knew was a figment of her imagination, a ghost she’d invented after falling off Apollo; invented because—let’s face it—she’d needed it.

They were joined at the table by a ruddy-cheeked African scientist, the balding Nobel laureate whose room Margo had occupied, and the Austrian man Margo had bumped into on the stairs. She was staring at the Austrian scientist—actually, noticing how intently he watched her—they were joined by a familiar red-haired man, a tall, fit suit who was introduced as Mr.
Johnathon
Graystone
. Logan’s eyes snapped to
Graystone
, and Margo remembered who he was.

Another
multi-billionaire,
and her mother’s partner in the space business. No wonder Logan looked nervous. If he played his cards right over shrimp and rice, he might win a space helmet.

Margo started on her rice while conversation whirled like a hurricane.

So I told her we were clearly getting something there… Fabulous to hear that… Was impressed to learn about a little lodge… No, I don’t think so yet. She’s still a little timid… It came in last month, but we’re still waiting on the other half…I thought it was a good idea at the time, but you know how shifty the South American markets can be…

She looked up, between Cindy, who sat at the end of the table, to Margo’s right, and Logan, who was seated across from her, on Cindy’s other side. The screen door was just between their chairs. She wondered if she could make it out without attracting notice.

Figuring Logan would notice
,
if for no other reason but that he kept sending awkward glanced her way, she focused on her rice until she thought she heard her name.

She looked up and bumped into Logan’s eyes. He stared, like he was trying to give her a message, and went on: “Marge was the mother of Zeus and the goddess of unknown fortunes.”

“Very fitting,” said the Austrian man, who flashed Margo a grin with his creepy teeth.
 

“Yes. Quite nice,” said Jonathon
Graystone
.

“You know, it sounds a bit like Ma, another ancient deity. I like it.” Cindy smiled at Logan.

He didn’t smile back. The conversation spun around them, but Margo didn’t hear a word of it.

He had named the planet after her… or else—
oh, God
—he had lied. Logan had told her he was naming it for her, but in reality, he had already named it for some goddess. And she had fallen for it.

Margo’s fork clattered on her dainty plate, and the conversation stopped. Lifting her eyes, she found the one face she knew, and murmured, “I’m sorry. I’m just…clumsy.”

In the long breath of silence, Logan’s gaze held hers. Margo looked down to pick up her fork, glad to hide her face. He’d known what was going on; she’d seen it in his eyes. She had told him, without meaning to, just how she felt about their night together in the O. Now she wanted to die.

 
“You should not worry,” said the Austrian. Luther was his name, she thought she’d heard. His pale blue eyes watched hers with sharp concern. “How are you feeling?
After that fall?
Are you disoriented?”

“I’m doing well,” she lied.

His question prompted others. She answered mechanically. Sooner or later, someone asked how it happened. Once again, her gaze jerked to Logan. He blinked.

Swallowing hard, Margo said, “I jumped.”

“You did what?” the Nobel laureate asked. It was unclear whether he was surprised or just hard of hearing. She leaned forward.

“I tried to jump the creek. I was near the bend by the landing strip, and I didn’t slow down. I didn’t
realized
my horse wasn’t fully trained, so I thought we could make it.” She shrugged. “He threw me.”

That drew a host of oohs and
aaahs
, and
Johnathon
Graystone
asked if she’d seen a doctor. “Yes,” she replied, and she wondered if the man had traveled here with her mother. If so, Cindy obviously hadn’t mentioned Margo’s concussion.

Johnathon
Graystone
raised his wine glass. “May Margo’s hard head serve her
well.
”

Margo held up her water, too, but nearly choked trying to swallow. When she drew a good breath, Cindy caught her eye. “I believe it, about you being clumsy.”

The comment seemed innocent enough, but Margo knew Cindy.
Knew the television personality, anyway.
On her finance show,
Zhu’s
, which Margo had watched obsessively for a whole year, she’d learned that Cindy was bossy and cutting, shrewd and competent. If there was one thing she was not, it was clumsy.

To avoid her mother’s lingering gaze, she glanced at Logan. He was chewing a shrimp, but when she looked over, his eyes dropped quickly to his plate. Cindy’s gaze intercepted them. She looked from Margo to Logan, and said, “So…
The two of you.
You’re about the same age. Do you share any interests?”

Logan’s eyes widened just enough for Margo to notice. They were wary. When, after a millisecond, she didn’t respond, he quickly said, “Not Bach.”

“Oh?”
     
“Margo likes music where there’s more going on.
A little less quiet.”

Johnathon
Graystone
looked like he might have a seizure. The vein above his left eye pulsed, and he pushed against the table with both hands, making Margo think he might jump up. “If you do not have quiet, you do not have time to think!” he huffed. “You like to think, don’t you?”

Margo nodded.

“Well try someone else. If Bach does not ring your bell, consider Debussy or Beethoven. There are many fine composers.” He turned to Logan. “Are there not?”

“There are, sir.”

“I have Chopin in my baggage. After dinner, we should all listen. There’s nothing better than his
G Minor Ballad
.”

Everyone at the table nodded politely, and Cindy changed the subject—back to Logan.

“Tell us about
yourself
,” she said. “You discovered planet Marge, and Maggie before it. How exactly does someone so young find two planets in less than a month?”

He shrugged, looking for too long down at his plate, like he really wasn’t sure what to say. Except Margo had read that wrong.
False humility.
He attributed it to beginners luck, and the next second started explaining his process with the bravado of a television preacher. Margo would have gone into a boredom coma had she not counted the number of times
Johnathon
Graystone
should have used a contraction. Evidently, he’d come to those late.

She had almost finished eating and was again eyeing the screen door when the physicist tipped his glass at her and said, “What about
Marho
? Is that your name?”

She nodded, squeezing the napkin in her lap while he gestured to Cindy. “This is your daughter, am I correct?”

Cindy nodded, just slightly, like someone had told her it might rain.

“I would not have known it just by looking at you,” the man proclaimed.

Cindy smiled, tight-lipped. Margo felt her stomach curl into a knot.

The physicist didn’t seem to notice. “You do have her eyes,” he went on. “And the two of you are both very dainty—I mean physically.”

Cindy bit the head off a shrimp.

“
Marho
—”

“It’s Margo,” Logan interjected. Probably because Margo’s cheeks were turning red, and that just wouldn’t do. It wasn’t seemly for someone to make a scene at the table. It might distract from talk about Chopin and rocks! And Logan!
Phony Logan, with his charming smile and long eyelashes.
In that moment, as his arm stretched out, fingers pointing to her, Margo hated him in a whole new way.

“Margo! Oh, do pardon me.” The physicist wiped his mouth, and she prayed he’d turn the conversation somewhere else. “
Margo
, do you and your mother share a love of astronomy?”

“Not really,” she said, and Logan’s eye caught hers. Looking straight at him, she said, “I’m more interested in people.”

“
Oooh
, psychology!
That’s a worthy field as well. Will you attend a graduate school?”

Cindy laughed at that. She actually laughed out loud.
“Margo, in graduate school?”
Her rich alto voice hung, heavy and mocking. “I could hardly convince her to attend The Kerrigan School for Young Ladies. Do you know what she told me?”

Everyone leaned forward.

“She said that she would rather go to public school.”

People’s eyes seemed to roll in their heads.
Johnathon
Graystone
burst out laughing.

“And I suppose you would like to attend a state school, too, when you graduate.” To Logan, he said, “Would you have ever gotten where you are now in public school?”

He cleared his throat and glanced quickly at Margo. “Well, I went to mostly private schools, but my mother is a public school tea—”

“Excuse me, please.” Trying to stand, Margo found her foot tangled with his. She wished she could kick him; she tried, but couldn’t reach him. As she gathered her plate and glass, she gave the table a big, fake smile. “Sorry to be going. I’m afraid I have a planned engagement elsewhere.”

With her back ramrod straight, she tossed her napkin on the table and walked serenely out.