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I want to man cry. Huge ugly tears of hours upon hours of wasted time collecting these coins, around the clock, on the hour.
“Let it go…” I chant.
“Uncle Noah, why are you singing the Frozen song?”
“Ava,” I say as calmly as possible. “I need to get dressed.”
She smiles and skips happily out of the room. Meanwhile, I’m having a nervous breakdown. Unable to shower without interruption, my phone constantly being touched. Argh, I need some privacy! I cannot prolong the apartment hunting. As soon as I have a spare moment this week, I’ll find myself a realtor.
The text is from some woman I hooked up with last year. In the space of a year, she’s managed to get married again and divorced. I ignore the text, not interested in conversing with someone that has that much emotional baggage.
Before getting changed, I sit on my bed and decide to text Morgan to see if she’s free to meet up today. That, and to make sure she doesn’t back out of our agreement.
Me: Good morning. Are you free today? I could do lunch at midday. Please say you’re free. This morning has kicked my butt already.
Great. Like that didn’t come across as desperate and needy. She instantly responds, immediately lifting my mood.
Morgan: Good morning to you too. How is it possible that your butt has been kicked before six am? An early riser, huh? Sure, I can do lunch. I’ll text you the details when I’m in the office.
It’s just too easy, like shooting fish in a barrel.
Me: An early riser, yes. But baby, trust me, it’s worth waiting for.
The bubble appears on the screen, and I rip off my towel while I wait for her message and place on my boxers.
Morgan: I walked right into that one, didn’t I? Okay, okay… Noah 1, Morgan 0. I’ll see you at lunch, and make sure you behave. After all, we will be in public.
I laugh out loud, surprised by her sense of humor. There’s something refreshing about our confrontation yesterday. Finally, all secrets have been let out and now I can get to know who she really is. My fingers type quickly, eager for her to respond.
Me: A lot can go on under a table. But hey, I’ll behave if that’s what you want.
I place the rest of my clothes on and head back to the bathroom to quickly finish styling my hair. When I make my way to the bed, my cell that sits on the duvet has a message from her.
Morgan: I want a lot of things, Noah. But life doesn’t always work out that way.
She isn’t saying anything untrue. Look at where life has taken me. If I had my way, the boys would have forgiven me and life would have continued on back home. But here I am, trying to figure out how easily our conversation has become so serious.
***
Midday couldn’t have come quicker. I meet her at the restaurant she suggested, early as usual. When it’s well past midday, I think only one thing—she flaked on me again. Just when I’m about to text her, she bustles through the door in a state of panic.
“I’m so sorry!” She rushes. “My cell died, as in decided to do this random update and won’t turn on. Then this moron got a flat tire, causing this massive traffic jam. I would have texted you but—”
I touch her arm. Her breathing slows down, then her face relaxes as the two of us take a seat.
“It’s okay,” I say with a reassuring smile. “Just means we need wine.”
“I can’t drink. I’ve got a meeting in an hour with the execs at the studios,” she tells me but I can tell she’s disappointed.
“Wait,” I say in a serious tone. “You mean I can’t get you drunk? How else will you go to bed with me then?”
With her deep blue eyes dancing flirtatiously while watching me, she struggles to hide the grin behind the menu which sits tall on the table. It’s so cute and beautiful. And I just want to see her smile a million times over. Kiss every inch of her soft pink lips until that smile is replaced with a seductive moan.
“Not shy to say what it is you want, huh?” she answers with a smirk.
“I’m an early riser, remember?”
She openly laughs, shaking her head at me. The waitress working today walks over, requesting our order. The restaurant serves quality cuisine, and Morgan’s not shy in ordering a decent-sized meal.
