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“No, thank you. Coffee is good.”
“Okay. Just give me a shout if you need anything.”
Morgan glanced at her watch. Nathan would be here at any moment. She peeked around the corner of the booth, eyes on the door, and her stomach turned over when it opened. It wasn’t Nathan, and the relief that flooded her made Morgan wonder if this was a good idea after all.
She stared at her coffee cup, her thoughts fragmented, jumping from her father to Cooper to Nathan and Christy. When the hell had things gotten so complicated? For a girl stuck in limbo, all of a sudden there was a hell of a lot of movement in her life. Made a girl wonder, was she strong enough to handle it all?
“Hey.”
She jerked her head up, fingers hitting the edge of her coffee cup, and if Nathan hadn’t grabbed it, the blue ceramic mug would have ended up on the floor. Heart in her throat, she felt a wave of heat rush over her at about the same time her stomach took a tumble.
Nathan’s dark eyes stared down at her as he slowly pushed the cup back in front of her. His dark hair was still wet, as if he’d come straight from the shower, and his jaw was shadowed, just like always. Dressed casually in slacks, a white dress shirt, and a charcoal-gray spring coat, he was obviously on his way to work.
He slid into the booth across from her, and for a few seconds, neither one of them spoke. Nathan placed his hands on the table, hands that used to belong to her. Hands she used to hold. She stared at them a moment longer, not really sure how she felt about that.
“You look great, Morgan.” He spoke hesitantly, as if unsure how to proceed.
She didn’t answer him. Instead, she looked away, her gaze on the window, thinking about the things her father had said this morning. The things her sister Sara had said a few days earlier. And she realized something. She didn’t want to do this polite thing. Didn’t want to dance around the elephant between them.
“Why did you want to see me?” she asked, turning back to Nathan, her gaze direct.
He looked surprised at her question. Or maybe it was the tone of her voice. Had it been that long since she’d had the balls to say what was on her mind? She thought about it and realized that, yes, it had. Ages, actually.
“I thought we should talk.”
“Why?”
“I…” He muttered something under his breath, looking more than a little uncomfortable. “We haven’t really talked since, ah…” Again, struggling for the right words. She was only too happy to help him.
“Since you had your mother come to my house and tell me you and Christy had headed to LA?”
His cheeks burned red, and that made her feel good. He glanced away. “I’m sorry for that.”
“You should be. You’ve had six years to make it right.”
He winced at her words. Actually winced. And damn but it felt good. Emboldened, Morgan fingered the edge of her cup. “So why the need to see me now?”
“I…well… I didn’t know you’d moved back to Fisherman’s Landing.”
She took a sip of coffee and set it back, her movements measured and precise. “Are you saying that you and Christy wouldn’t have moved back here if you did?”
“No, I…” He sighed and sank back in his seat. “I would have tried to see you first. To let you know so that it wouldn’t be awkward. I don’t want to hurt you. I’m just…sorry about everything.” He splayed his hands along the top of the table. “I should make it clear. We don’t want to hurt you.” He paused. “Christy and me.”
Wow. Unbelievable.
Morgan’s hands shook, so she hid them under the table. Not because she was scared or upset or anything like that. She was mad as hell. Plain and simple. Had she really wasted years grieving the loss of these two?
She leaned forward and held his gaze so that there was no mistaking her words or her meaning. She needed to get this right.
“First off, Nathan, you’re giving yourself way too much credit. You’re not on my radar anymore. Not at all. I’ll admit running into you and Christy at La Spagatt was a little weird for me, but that’s all it was. Weird.”
He looked uncomfortable as hell, which gave Morgan an almost savage satisfaction.
“Secondly, you gotta remember my bullshit meter is pretty damn
high. You don’t want to hurt me?” She made a tsk-tsk. “Please. You’ve already hurt me more than anyone ever has. The revulsion on your face that first time you saw me naked? That hurt. But even that didn’t compare to how it felt knowing you left my hospital room night after night and went straight to Christy. Jesus, you would tell me you loved me, even though you were careful not to touch me, and then go screw her.”
His eyes widened, and his gaze slid from hers, that nasty, guilty countenance more pronounced than ever.
