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Our broker, Janine, shows us house after house, each one not fitting what we need. And then finally, we arrive at house number nine.
“No,” Morgan says firmly, shaking her head disapprovingly.
“But there’s a swing,” I beg.
“In the bedroom,” she exclaims. “Haven’t you ever seen those shows with the ultraviolet lights that scan the bedrooms? Imagine tracing the swing with that light.”
It’s enough to make me
shudder. Another man’s juices all over my bedroom—no thanks.
“Okay, you have a point.”
It’s house number thirteen—which should be unlucky—that’s the perfect one. It has four bedrooms, a huge backyard with one side that overlooks a canyon. I found it online and asked Janine to show us the place immediately having done some research on the property.
“This is it,” I mumble quietly. “This is our house.”
I stand beside the large palm tree watching Morgan as her eyes light up. “This is our house?”
“Uh-huh.” I pull her by the hand toward the other side of the property which looks into a field. And as if the universe’s timing couldn’t be any more perfect, the sounds of a freight train echo in the distance.
“You see that?” I point toward the train that’s moving across the railway line. “Michael can sit here and watch the trains go by. According to the timetable I found, they go past every hour during the day.”
Morgan stares vacantly into the field, without blinking. I wait for her to say something, her catatonic state making me slightly paranoid. And just as I’m about to reach over and shake her, a single tear falls down her cheek.
“He can stay with us?” she asks with a croaky voice.
“Why else are we looking at a big home? Wyatt agrees that it will be best for him to spend time with us as long as we keep to a routine. He also thinks this house is perfect for Michael,” I ramble on, stopping when she throws herself on me, bawling into my chest. I give her some time to calm down, stroking the top of her hair.
“Plus, the extra bedroom for Tom. He’s already expressed interest in moving to Cali because he thinks the women are looser here and more giving. His words, not mine.”
“Thank you… for being you, for loving me, for loving Michael,” she cries softly.
“I’ll carry your bags if you carry mine.” I smile.
“Deal.”
We seal it with a kiss, and when we pull away, I can’t help but point out the obvious.
“I can’t believe the evil queen just cried,” I poke fun at her.
“You call me the evil queen?”
“Yeah, I did. But in your defense you’re hot, so I still wanted to fuck you even though I could have sworn you were heartless.”
Her lips curve upward into a beautiful smile. A smile that belongs to me. I run my thumb across the bottom of her lip, watching as her body melts in slow motion. Then, our cells ping at the same time distracting us both.
“Hey, no phones.”
“Yours went off, too,” I remind her.
Curious, the both of us take our cells out, and in unison gasp at the image on our screen. It’s a selfie of Mom and Max, Mom holding up her finger with an engagement ring.
“They’re engaged?” Morgan questions with a laugh.
I stare in disbelief although Max had asked me for permission to marry Mom earlier this week. I said yes because I thought he was mucking around. But clearly I’m the fool. Utterly clueless when it comes to shit like this.
“I guess so,” I say without emotion. “Does that make you my stepsister?”
