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I follow her lead outside the venue and cross the street with her hand in mine. There’s a cab stand in front of the restaurant, another couple waiting for one to pull up. It takes me a few moments to realize that my pocket buzzed, and inside sits my cell. I pull it out, my fingers stumbling as I tap the screen. I squint my eyes and can barely make out the message.
Morgan: Probably why it hurts so much.
I stand still as Ginger repeatedly calls my name. It hurts all right, it hurts like fucking hell. In fact, hell would probably be a vacation compared to the place I’m in right now.
There’s a loud ‘hurrah’ coming from the entrance of the restaurant, and with my eyes dashing toward the sound, I watch as the door opens.
It’s her.
And standing right beside her is her husband, his hand resting comfortably on the small of her back. Morgan sees me, and instantly, her face falls. The dark circles covering her eyes become darker when her eyes land on Ginger, kissing the side of my ear.
“C’mon, Noah, time to have fun.”
And in the act of the universe being all fucked up, I follow Ginger into the cab, avoiding Morgan’s pointed stare.
For tonight, Ginger will erase the pain gutting my insides.
For tonight, she will be my rebound.
NOAH
I’m lying in bed staring at the ceiling, thinking about last night—my actions and how everything in my life is completely messed up.
With K
ate gone, leaving on a red-eye to New York City, I wallow in my own self-pity, trying to pinpoint exactly where it all got fucked up. This is why I need Kate in my life—her years of wisdom would’ve deciphered the mess going on in my head.
Our office is closed today for fumigation. Haden got a call early this morning of a rodent problem and notified everyone immediately. I welcome the break, and over the call, Haden senses exactly that. He happens to be great at giving advice, explaining how he and Presley came together after a rather complicated union. Then he tells me Ginger’s quite a gal and to go back for seconds if possible.
I didn’t even go for firsts. Bailing on her after she took me back to her place, which was an utter mess. Sorry, a dump would be more inappropriate. What a fucking waste of time.
A rebound is what I needed, and I failed at that as well.
I don’t know how to gain control of my life. And there’s nothing more frustrating than the loss of power—the inability to think straight and move on.
I know only one thing—it continues to hurt like hell.
And no matter how much I try, I can’t stop picturing Morgan and her husband sleeping in the same bed, imagining his hands wandering over her body while she sleeps. Every time the vision pops into my head, I want to slam my fist through the wall and direct the pain elsewhere.
The door creaks open, and I expect to see one of the girls standing outside, but instead, I look up and see Morgan. Though my vision is tainted with only the color red, her beauty filters through and leaves me breathless. Fuck, I hate that she makes me feel this way, like some superpower that controls my emotions.
She’s wearing a white dress with red heels, and her hair is tied up into a bun. I feel exposed lying here in only my boxers. What the fuck is she doing here?
“Charlie, let me in,” she says, standing at the foot of the bed. “She just left with the girls.”
“What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be with your husband and son?”
“Noah, please, don’t you think after you ran off with some strange woman that I deserve at least to be able to explain myself? I’m hurting just as much as you are here.”
I sit back, crossing my arms in the process. Not correcting her assumption on my actions last night, I continue to act cold toward her, allowing my anger to be seen. Morgan sits on the edge of the bed, keeping her distance. She may not feel it, but my urges are in overdrive because I fucking miss her, and she’s way too close for me to be thinking straight.
“Wyatt and I met just out of college. It was a celebratory Vegas trip that went horribly wrong. A friend of mine had been drugged, and I was too busy getting drunk.”
Her hands fidget with the edge of the blanket, carefully recounting her story. “Wyatt found her, and long story short, we started seeing each other. One night, completely out of the blue, we both decided to get married. I did love him.”
It kills me to hear it. That fucking word does my head in. I bite my tongue, allowing her to finish.
“We’d only been seeing each other for six weeks before we tied the knot. My dad was livid,” she reveals. “Two months after we got married, Wyatt’s ex announced she was pregnant. I knew I couldn’t go back to my old life of drinking and partying. My destructive behavior began the moment my mom died, and I didn’t know how to cope. I wasn’t like Scarlett. She knew how to deal with her emotions and move on. I bottled them up, then screwed guys like they were going out of style.
