08 Margaret

08

Margaret 

The car screeched to a halt. Even before the driver could park properly, Margaret spotted Alex sprawled weakly beside his car, a giant man towering over him. She sighed, already reaching for the door handle and stepping out.

He hasn't been home for weeks since Ryan left… and this is where he ends up?

If Ryan had been around, this would’ve escalated. No, scratch that, Alex wouldn’t even have dared this if Ryan were still in the mansion. The only reason he stayed there now was because of his child. That house reminded him too much of his late wife. Every chance he got to avoid it, he took.

“Alex,” Margaret called softly, placing a hand on his shoulder. He looked up and, upon seeing her, grinned.

“You’re here.” He slurred, trying to get up.

A whole CEO reduced to this?

“We are going to have words about this later but not here.” She gritted out, irritated as she carried him up.

The bartender rushed to help, lifting Alex with her.

“Don’t worry, ma’am. I’ll help him to the car.”

He guided Alex gently into the back seat and closed the door.

“Thank you, young man. Do you work at the bar too?” Margaret asked.

He nodded. “Yes, ma'am. Mr. Alex has been... grumpy lately. Please take it easy on him.”

Margaret chuckled softly. She glanced over at the expensive car Alex had driven and sighed.

“Erm… can you help with his car? You can drive, right?”

The bartender glanced back at the bar, hesitation on his face. He already knew what was coming. His manager probably wouldn't appreciate him disappearing from his post especially with customers flooding in. He didn’t want to get on the bad side of management, not while he was still riding the privilege of being recommended and favored by the owner of the bar, Mr. Alex himself. Not to mention the tips he'd be missing out on.

“Don't worry about that. I will inform Alex about it and your manager will be informed that you were needed. And the tips lost between the time frame will be covered. You will be offered $300”. The bar man's eyes widened in disbelief. $300!! That's more than what he earns and much more than the tips he gets. 

“I will give you $300 for the delivery and $100 to make sure your night wasn't a total loss. I will make sure Alex talks to your manager or I talk to him. No trouble will come your way.” Margaret assured. 

“Oh my God, ma’am. That’s… more than enough. Thank you.” He stuttered, grinning excitedly.

Margaret smiled and nodded as she got into the car. The driver followed, and they pulled out of the parking lot with the bartender following in Alex’s car behind them.

Back at the mansion, Margaret dropped Alex onto his bed with a dramatic thud.

“You’re heavy,” she huffed, breathing hard.

The driver had offered to help, but she’d waved him off. Alex still had a bit of strength left in him, so he didn’t lean all his weight on her.

Alex turned on the bed, sitting up with a boyish grin. “I’m big, and you’re small. What did you expect?” He said in his deep baritone voice staring right at her. 

Margaret’s face flushed slightly. 

What is he doing?

She cleared her throat and looked around the room, suddenly very interested in the floor. “You should freshen up before sleeping. Do you want something to eat?”

“No, I’m okay. My stomach hurts,” he murmured, flopping back onto the bed and staring at the ceiling.

“Alex… have you called Ryan since he left?”

Alex tensed. He rubbed his forehead, eyes closed in frustration.

“I want to, but I’ve been busy lately...”

“Busy?” she scoffed, cutting him off. “You know what? I’ve never really said this before, but you're destroying something, Alex. You are. You need to face your son. I’m pretty damn sure your late wife would never have wanted this.”

Alex groaned, clearly irritated, but Margaret didn’t care. That was the second time today someone had thrown that line at him, and honestly, he was getting tired of hearing it.

Why can't everyone just rest it out? Did they communicate with his dead wife and she told them that? Did they all consult a psychic and speak with his wife or something?

“Ryan needs his father. He needs a fatherly care, a father figure which you really haven't been fulfilling, sorry to say. But you really have to think your life through again.” Alex sat up, burying his face in his palms.

Margaret stood and headed for the door. “Get up and freshen up. I’ll bring you some medicine and soup. It should help with the stomach ache, headache, and body pain.” She said walking out. 

She paused at the door and looked back.

“Alex.”

He raised his head to meet her gaze.

“Please... call Ryan. As soon as you can.” Then she left.

She was tired of his brooding ass.

Mourning someone who was gone while ignoring the one person left with him. Ryan deserved all the love Alex had to give. If he really missed his wife, he should show up for their child not wallow like he was auditioning to join her in the afterlife.

Margaret made the soup and prepared the meds. This man was exhausting. Constantly self-sabotaging. Afflicting himself all the time! 

She returned upstairs and knocked on his door, twice. No answer. The sound of running water confirmed he was in the shower. She entered, walked to the bedside table, and gently placed the tray down.

The bed was a mess, of course. She straightened the sheets and fluffed the pillows, giving the room some order.

Once everything was in place, she quietly exited, shutting the door behind her.

As she descended the stairs, her thoughts drifted back to how pitiful he’d looked earlier.

She hated to admit it, but there was a hint of jealousy in her heart. Jealousy for the dead woman who still held so much of him. So much impact on him. 

Will he ever love anyone the way he loved his wife?

Margaret rubbed at the ache in her chest, trying not to let the answer hurt too much.