by Sarah Skye
Morgan stabs her fork into a date, inhales it, then nods as she devours another. “Yes. Easily. I’m starving after that hike. And what you did to me in our room.”
I laugh behind my glass of red wine, then sip. “I’m definitely hungry too, but this is an epic amount of food.”
Morgan polishes off the dates before I even take a bite.
“You’d better hurry or nothing will be left for you,” she teases before slicing into her entrée.
I dig into my halibut. Thirty minutes of ravenous eating later, and all that’s left are three asparagus spears and a slice of bruschetta.
“Wow.” I gaze at the expanse of empty plates between us. “We really did it.”
Morgan winks at me. “Told you.”
She looks around the dimly lit dining room. Then she turns to me, sets her wine glass on the table, and grabs my hand. “Thank you for this. It’s amazing, Marco. I’ve never felt so cared for.”
Her eyes are shy as she speaks. It makes me want to hug her. Instead, I squeeze her hand. “I never have either. I’ve never felt this way, been this happy, until now. Until you.”
Something flashes across her face, but she sips from her water glass before I can be sure of it. “You mean that?”
“More than anything.”
It’s a quiet moment of eye contact that we share before a family sitting a few tables down gets up and walks toward us. Their toddler runs ahead and nearly trips as he races by our table, but I reach out and catch him. He aims his big brown eyes up at me, clearly shocked to be held by a stranger. But a second later he smiles.
The woman I assume is his mom rushes over. “Oh gosh, I’m so sorry. Noah, honey, don’t run off like that.”
“It’s no problem.” I make a funny face at the kid, who giggles and steps over to his mom. As she thanks me, the man who I assume is Noah’s dad walks over. I notice he’s struggling to balance multiple to-go containers in his arms.
“Looks like you’ve got those dad reflexes. Nice,” he says.
I laugh and say thanks. They walk away, and I catch Morgan beaming at me. “You’re really good with kids, you know that?”
I tug at the sleeve of my dress shirt. “Eh, not really.”
“You are. I’ve seen you charm two children you didn’t even know.”
For some strange-as-hell reason, my mind flashes forward when I catch her intense gaze on me. I picture Morgan and me here again, but this time with a toddler of our own sitting in the chair next to us. They have my dark hair and eyes but her full cheeks, angelic face, and the same beautiful smile.
I blink, and the image disappears. Shit. That’s never happened before.
I take a slow sip of water before I pull up the image again in my brain. The longer I dwell on it, the calmer and more comfortable I feel.
“Do you want kids someday?”
I look up at her. Her stare is pointed but open, like she’s mustered all the courage she has to ask me that.
“Despite being nervous about what kind of father I’ll be… Yeah. I do.” I don’t blink when I answer her. “Do you?”
She smiles slightly and nods, then looks down. “I’ve, um, always wanted to have kids, to be a mom. I guess because I never had parents. And I grew up an only child.” She fumbles with her napkin on the table. “I mean, I technically have a half-brother, but that doesn’t really count. I’ve never met him. I don’t know anything about him. Except that we have the same last name.”
I reach over and place my hand over hers. “I know. You told me about it on the trail, remember?” My smile is meant to reassure her that I’m not tired of hearing this and I never will be. “You’ll be an amazing mom, Morgan.”
Even in the dim mood lighting of the restaurant, I can tell her eyes are watering with tears. She blinks them away before they can fall down her cheeks and whispers a quiet, “thanks” before lacing her fingers in mine.
“Have you thought about looking for your brother?” I ask.
She shrugs. “I don’t even know how I’d go about that. I’d probably have to get in touch with my dad. Last I heard, he was in prison.” Sheepishness clouds her expression as a sad smile tugs at her lips. “I’ve never told anyone that, not even Lily,” she says softly.
When her voice wobbles, I move my chair to be next to her, then I hug her to me. It’s a bizarre cocktail of emotion coursing through me. Sadness at the pain Morgan is enduring. Anger at her dad for abandoning her and making her feel like anything less than the incredible person she is. Joy that she feels comfortable enough to tell me this and be vulnerable in front of me.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you by bringing this up.”
“No, it’s okay.” She sniffles. “It feels good to talk about it. Cathartic, in a way. And I’d actually like to meet my brother someday. I’m just not ready to talk to my dad, and I’ll have to do that if I want to find my brother.”
“Of course.” I kiss her cheek through her hair. We stay cuddled together until our server walks over and asks if we want dessert.
“Can we get it to go?” Morgan asks, her tone lighter and happier.
The server says of course, and Morgan orders a slice of lemon creme cake. When I hand over my credit card to pay, she protests, but I shoot her a look. “It’s on me.”
She leans over to kiss me and whispers thank you. We walk hand in hand back to our room. The minute I shut the door behind me and set the dessert on the side table, Morgan is on me. She pulls my clothes off and backs me toward the bed. Soon we’re naked, tangled in the sheets, grabbing at each other like the world is ending and this is our last night together.
But when she moves on top of me, the mood shifts. This isn’t going to be our usual playful sex where I take charge with loads of dirty talk. I can tell by the slow, deliberate way she kisses me, the way she holds me, the way she looks at me—like she’s seeing right through me—that this will be different.
I still her with a hand on her stomach so I can grab a condom. I roll it on, and then she lowers herself onto me. She rides me slow and steady, the pressure and pleasure building inside of me with each passing second. We don’t speak a word; we let our bodies do the talking. Every kiss, every caress, every time I brush her hair away from her face, every time she presses her palms to my chest to steady herself, it all speaks more than words ever could.
When she comes, I reach up and pull her mouth to my mouth, swallowing her screams and moans with my kiss. I lose it right along with her, and we end tangled in one another, shuddering, barely able to catch our breath.
As we get up and get ready for bed, we trade kisses and touches just like before, but it feels different. Every time I’m with her, it’s heaven. This is something else entirely though.
It doesn’t hit me until later that night when she’s fast asleep on my chest, my hands in her hair.
I am so fucking in love with Morgan.
24
MORGAN
“Oh my god, I can’t believe we’re doing this.” Lily giggles so hard that she has to bury her face in my shoulder as we’re led back to the private room.
When we walk in, the man serving as our table tonight perks up at the sight of me. Of course it would be the same guy as before. Not for the first time tonight, I cringe.
Naked sushi makes perfect sense as a bachelorette party first-stop. But when I found out this is what Harmony had picked for Lily’s night out, I got a twinge of karma coming full circle on me. Coincidences tend to be lessons to learn, and the fact that I was here with Marco just a month ago couldn’t be a fluke.
Or maybe it could, I reasoned as I pushed the dread away.
“Hey, how’s it going?” the model asks as I settle into my seat. He grins. “Not officially on duty yet, so it seems fair to ask. Did you ditch your date the other night?”
Lily chokes on her own spit. “You came here on a date?” she hisses, but I wave her off.
“Um, no, not really. Going okay, thanks.” I flash him a close-lipp
ed smile that says I’d prefer he shut up and stay in his lane of being our table. He winks at me, but gets the message, thank god.
Lily is giggly and glowing tonight, and I’m happy for her, even as she says, “What a place to go on a first date. Knowing you, I bet you were so offended when you got here and realized what it was, right?”
I twirl my chopsticks to keep busy. “Um, I guess. It was kind of funny, honestly.”
Her dark brows shoot up. “Was it a good date? All I ever hear are horror stories.”
“It was okay,” I say softly. “He took me to karaoke after.”
“Morgan! That’s your favorite!”
“I know, Lil.” I roll my eyes playfully.
She grips my arm. “So? How did it end?”
Sushi table guy is all ears. He’s trying not to let it show and failing miserably.
I can’t help the heat that creeps up my neck when that night flashes back. Marco on the karaoke stage, goofing his way through “Butter” even just thinking that word now makes me hot—then back at his place… Our first kiss…
“Morgan Paulsen, you are blushing!” Lily’s voice is a pure squeal, very unlike her.
“It was a good date, okay?” I mumble, then grab her cocktail and basically shove it into her hand. She lets me, giving me a firm cheers before knocking most of it back.
I get the conversation off me by bringing up her sculpture. Lily lights up and begins to talk about the latest piece she’s been working on. She blushes hard to admit it’s an abstract bust of Calder’s chest, which makes Harmony and me lose it in helpless, all-the-love-for-our-friend giggles. From there we ease through dinner, flowing from one topic to the other.
Harmony had pouted at Lily’s insistence that it just be the three of us for the night. She wanted to bring an entourage and do the typical bachelorette thing, but it’s not Lily’s style. Her major victory was getting Lily to wear a “bride-to-be” sash and plastic tiara.
But typical bachelorette party or not, Lily is thirsty tonight and ready to cut loose. After sushi, we have plans to go to a paint-and-drink thing, just like we did the night Calder proposed to her, but out on the sidewalk, she suddenly decides karaoke is our next stop. So, Harmony calls the painting studio and moves our reservation to later, then gets us an Uber to the exact same bar Marco and I went to that night.
Universe, why am I retracing these steps? What am I meant to learn?
I’m listening so hard to my intuition that I don’t dare drink much. There’s a Cosmo in my hand at the bar, but that’s one drink versus Lily and Harmony’s free-flowing beverages. Of course I sing, but this time it’s a different song. “Ruin My Life” by Zara Larsson catches my eye in the list of options. The words scroll on the prompter, and my girls cheer me on, but a stone continues to solidify in my stomach. These lyrics are a little too close to home.
What am I going to do?
As I hop off the stage, I think about our romantic getaway. It was perfect. Hiking and being lazy and all the sex we could handle. He was so… lovely. So completely lovely. In fact, the whole time this has been going on, that beautiful, broken boy has really been nothing but. Taking care of Gram, being there for me even though it made no sense for him to do so, and now acting as a crusader for Gram’s friends against this scummy lawyer. How can he be the man I want and the douche from my girls’ past?
How tired am I of worrying about this?
I stop in my tracks on the way back to them. That’s it. I’m so damn sick of the duality, of walking this path with him and now with them, of living two lives—and of having Marco be two people in my life, the old villain and the new… okay, the new love interest.
As a figure of speech.
“This is silly,” I mumble to myself, then lift my chin and scurry back, determined to make some changes.
We finish up at the bar and rideshare over to the painting spot. Lily and Harmony are bleary with alcohol, but they happily accept champagne from the receptionist. I take my glass for a toast and follow them to the easels.
When we’re settled in with music on the speakers and a bowl of cherries to paint in front of us, I flash a grin at Lily. “Having fun?”
She bobs her head with a goofy grin. “This is so great.”
“Good. I want the best for my bestie.”
Suddenly, Lily hops up and throws her arms around me. My brush slashes a bright red line across the canvas. “I want the best for my bestie, too. The guy who took you to naked sushi. Have you seen him again?”
“Um, yeah, a little.”
She squeezes me again. “Good, I’m so glad.”
I look up at her. “Are you? Is there any situation in which you’d not be glad about that, Lil?”
“Of course not, silly. If you’re happy, I’m happy. What on earth could stop that from being true? You’re, like, the best person. You’re so attuned to the universe, you listen to your instincts, and you care about everyone you love so deeply. Why would anyone who made you happy be bad?”
My eyes sting with tears. Lily’s speech is slurred and her eyes are half open, but her words touch my heart. “Thank you for saying that. I, uh, I guess then maybe I should tell you—”
“I mean, it’s not like you’re dating Marco or something,” she barrels on as if she didn’t realize I’d spoken.
Both she and Harmony shriek with laughter, but my heart shatters right then and there.
“Sorry, Morgan, that was silly,” Lily says once they quiet down. “What were you saying?”
“Hmm? Oh, nothing important.”
We paint on and finish our cherries. Even drunk, Lily’s comes out beautifully. Harmony’s cherries look pink and puffy and adorable. And mine? Mine looks like overripe fruit on a white tablecloth—with a long, blood-red slash right across the whole thing.
Apropos as a souvenir for the evening, I’d say.
The next morning, even with no hangover, I lie in bed a long time and stare at the ceiling. Even with no hangover, my stomach is rolling and my head aches. Or maybe it’s my heart. Or both.
I finally reach for my nightstand and grab my tarot deck. After idly shuffling, I toss a card for the situation: three swords. Betrayal, heartache, hurt.
I toss a card for my action: five swords. Conflict, disagreement, walking away from a bad situation.
I toss a card for the outcome, fully expecting the Tower and its chaos and upheaval. Instead, I get the Lovers: union, harmony, and honesty.
Carefully, I arrange the three cards on my nightstand as a reminder. This hurts, but something good will come of it. There’s more for me. Even if my heart has to hurt first.
Then, I get dressed and text Marco.
Me: Can I come over?
Marco: I’ll get the rug ready for you ;)
I smile sadly at the screen and order a rideshare. Driving seems like a bad idea.
He grins when he sees me. I try to smile back, and that makes his brow quirk.
“Hey?” he offers. “All okay?”
“Butter.”
I blurt the word, and my heart cracks all over again.
Marco’s eyes go wide. “Excuse me?”
Tears fill my eyes. “Butter. Full stop. I can’t do this anymore.”
It’s like the color had just been waiting to drain from his face. He takes a stumbling step back into his living room, motioning me, but I shake my head and hug myself tight.
“Come inside, dammit, don’t do this in the hallway,” he growls, and so I force myself just inside the door. I don’t want to breathe, don’t want to inhale the lightning-bolt-bottle cologne. I don’t want to look and see the rug, or the sofa, or anything I know so well by now. I don’t even want to see him, so damn handsome even in a black t-shirt and jeans. I just want to run, run back to Gram’s house and oatmeal raisin cookies and lavender blankets and a sense that I was safe and life was easy.
Instead, I put my shoulders on the wall and fix my gaze on my shoes.
Marco clears his throat. “Full stop
, huh? You told Lily?”
“I tried to, but even then… It’s a no-go, Marco. She’s never gonna be okay with it. And you know what? I have no right to ask her to be. I am fall—uh, fucking her ex.” I hear my near-misspeak and wince, shaking my head hard.
“That’s what you’re doing, huh.” His voice is hollow.
Tears leak from my eyes. “No,” I croak. “You know damn well it’s not that simple.”
“So do you.”
Tugging on my own hair simultaneously gives me a little jolt of pain to sharpen my senses and makes me long to feel his hands there instead. “Yeah, I do, and it still doesn’t matter. This is never going to work. We’re going to hurt everyone if we keep going.”
“Better to hurt ourselves then, I guess.”
I lift my gaze at last and let the tears flow. “Exactly. That’s the right thing to do.”
He crooks his mouth. “Always putting everyone else first, that’s you.”
“It is. It’s just how I operate. It’s safer.”
“You sure?”
I take a moment to envision announcing that I was dating Marco. No, that I was head-over-heels for Marco Woodruff because there’s no sense in pretending this is anything less. I picture telling Lily and Harmony and shrugging off their horror. I picture losing my friends, losing their trust, losing the few people in the world who have always been there for me.
I can’t do it.
But he’s been there for you too.
“I realized last night that I’m worn thin worrying about this, living this divided life. We can’t undo our pasts, but we can make a better present and future. You are doing that, Marco, and god do I see that clearly. That growth will take you amazing places, I have no doubt.”
“Just not into your life.”
More tears leak out. “I don’t see how we possibly can. Do you?”
An eternity stretches out in the moment before he answers.
“No.”
I force a watery smile. “For a moment, I actually hoped you had a plan here.”
He mirrors my expression. “So did I.”
“Goodbye, Marco.”
