Page 90 of Us in Ruins
“I only came here without telling you because I knew you’d be too busy with work to actually listen, and you’d say no, and we’d end up in a big fight,” Margot said, her bottom lip quivering.
Her dad brushed her wild curls away from her face, gentle and caring. “You’re right. I haven’t always been there for you the way I needed to be. I held on too tightly when I should have let you spread your wings.” He laughed, then, a wet sound like he might tear up, too. “I just knew one day you’d grow up to be this brilliant, adventurous young woman, and I was going to lose you, too.”
“Daaaad,” Margot said. She swiped at the tears leaking out the sides of her eyes, totally about to smear her mascara. “I thought I was losing you because... Sometimes I feel like I have to stop being me to make you happy.”
He shook his head. “I’m sorry. I want you to do what makes you happy. Not what you think will make other people happy.”
Well, she’d followed her heart, and it led her here.
And here was... not exactly like she’d imagined it. Somehow, it was better.
Across the meadow, Margot found Van, still engaged in a conversation with eager reporters (and Suki, who had taken it upon herself to produce a notepad and a novelty pen and was now certainly asking the hardest-hitting questions). His chin rose like he felt her eyes on him, and when his gaze met hers, she winked.
“Margot! Come with me. Let me get a photo of you and Van!” a journalist with a hefty DSLR strapped around his chest said.
She let herself be corralled through the crowd until Van was back at her side, his arm fitting comfortably around her waist. The journalist pressed the camera’s viewfinder to his eye and swiveled the lens, shifting them into focus.
“How does it feel? Finding the treasure of Venus?” the journalist asked.
“I’m never letting go,” Van said.
Margot leaned in closer, a sappy smile spreading wide, but Van tilted her chin up toward him. As the camera flashed, he kissed her, like they were the only two people in the world. The kind of kiss that would rival Isla and Reed’s. Windswept and sunlit and lipstick stained.
32
Fictional adventurer Wren Cahill had just wrangled the jewel thief into a headlock when Van plopped a filthy trowel-spade at Margot’s feet.
Margot peeked over the screen of her laptop, her attention snapping away from her Word document and back to reality, as Van swiped the back of his arm across his forehead, leaving a streak of dirt behind in the afternoon sweat. “How’s it going down there?”
They’d abandoned their old dig site and migrated to the grassy knoll and its mounds of freshly upturned dirt to excavate Venus’s temple. Which was fine by Margot. She didn’t mind if she never saw Plot D again in her life.
“Topher and Rex just discovered a first-century spatha, so Suki’s taking bets on who loses an eye first,” Van said as he sank into the pastel-colored folding chair next to her, beneath Dr. Hunt’s white tent.
Margot laughed. “My money’s on Rex.”
The boys’ underhanded comments at Margot’s beginner’s luck had ceased immediately when they realized that her name would be added to their textbooks someday. Even Astrid had surprised her by turning delightfully tepid, too excited by the prospect of new documents she’d get to translate to keep up the charade of annoyance. Neither of them would ever admit it, but now that they were partners, Van and Astrid managed to get along—her academic prowess paired well with Van’s hands-on know-how, and a century-old feud fizzled out with every studied scroll.
The Campania sun had sprinkled new freckles across Van’s cheeks, and his face had a pink tinge, newly sunburned. His steps had grown lighter with every day since the curse had broken. The divot of his single dimple appeared as he said, “I’ve also got something I want to show you.”
“It’s not Rex’s eye, is it?” she asked.
Van leveled her with a look.
“Okay, great, because as soon as Wren finishes kicking this guy’s butt, she’s going to realize she’s totally lost.” Her nails tapped against her laptop keyboard as Margot pressed the save button before closing out of her half-written manuscript.
Wren was the kind of archaeologist Margot had wanted to be. She didn’t care if she got dirt in her nail beds and wasn’t squeamish around bones and wouldn’t take no for an answer, even if it meant leaving her comfort zone behind. And while Wren was stuck in Ariadne’s labyrinth trying to save the crown of King Minos from a masked thief (who was obviously secretly super hunky and going to be forced into working with her), Margot had never been more certain of her own footing.
On the page, Margot could become anyone, but every word somehow brought her closer to herself. There was something magic in every sentence, every finished chapter. Writing was the one place where she didn’t have to try to stop herself from getting carried away, from diving in too deep, too fast. All her daydreams and every one of her wildest ideas—they weren’t just allowed. They were encouraged.
While the rest of the class unearthed and analyzed every golden artifact from the buried temple, Margot had spent the last few weeks dreaming up Wren’s story, every emotional arc and unexpected plot twist. Van helped, fielding any world-building snags she ran into along the way.
Margot could hardly believe Dr. Hunt managed to convince her dad to let her stay the rest of the summer under the guise of auditing the class for research. And next quarter, she’d sign up for a creative writing elective. This one, she was certain, would stick.
“Don’t suspect you’ve found a Cretan treasure map down there, have you?” Margot asked, still ruminating on her looming plot hole.
Just then, a trio of other students came up carrying big plastic bins of sorted discoveries. They quieted when they noticed the two of them. One of the boys whispered something that made another one laugh. Van stiffened, standing, and extended a hand to Margot.
She took it and slid her computer into her chair in her place. Wordlessly, Van led her to the other side of the tent, behind a stack of crates that shielded them from their classmates’ prying eyes.