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I sent a quick text to both brothers.
I am home. I am fine. Do not come here. Thank you for all that you’ve done to help me. I will be in touch to deal with the fallout.
I just neededone more night to get my head on straight, one more night with Morgan to convince her that in the mess that would follow, what we had was worth fighting for. I wouldn’t hear their responses, as my phone remained on silent.
Morgan set down the photo of Jasper and me, and picked up the other. “Is this your mom?”
“Yes.” It was a photograph of the two of us curled up in her old green velvet chair. I was three, a year after Jasper was born.
“She has your smile.” Morgan set the photo down. “Do you mind if I look around?”
“Have at it.”
I followed her from the living room to the kitchen and down the small hall to a doorway on the left.
“This is it,” she said.“Thisis where you live.”
My breath caught in my throat as I stepped inside the office. It felt like I was seeing something positive from my old life for the first time.
The shelves were lined with a collection of tomes written by authors I'd read over and over: business textbooks, classics, and a plethora of thriller novels. A few books showed no signs of wear, delights intended to be indulged in after accomplishing some sort of work task. Memories of the specifics still remained slightly out of reach.
Framed degrees decorated the walls.
A box of pens sat on the large mahogany desk, behind my laptop which sat front and center.
“Ohmygosh.” Morgan pointed to a record machine in the corner. “You listen to vinyls. And you won’t believe what’s in here.”
She lifted the lid, started the machine, and let the music play.
I recognized the song—“Perfect Strangers.”
“Deep Purple, like your shirt.” Morgan beamed at me.
“I suppose Ididknow who they were all along,” I said.
I opened the top right drawer of the desk. Inside was a used and crumpled menu. I showed it to Morgan.
“This is where we order the best pizza in Epiphany,” I said.
When I looked at her face, I couldn’t decipher her expression. There was something there—hesitation? It was almost as if she was internally debating something far more consequential than the menu I held out to her.
She sucked her lower lip between her teeth and her expression softened. She was holding something back, something she needed to say.
Instead, she laid her hands on my chest and lifted on tiptoes. I wrapped my arms around her and met her halfway, capturing her lips with mine. It was sweet at first, gentle and coaxing. She took it deeper, twirling her tongue and making me dizzy with promises I wished we could exchange with words.
When the kiss ended, questions danced in my mind. Yet still I didn’t speak.
She moved my laptop from my desk, setting it gently on the record player, then she swiped the pens from the desk, scattering them all over the floor. An adorable blush crossed over her cheeks.
Her voice trembled as she said, “I always wanted to do that.”
“Stay with me,” I said.Here in this condo, here in my life, forever.
“I’m not going anywhere,” she said, her voice raspy with need.
“Not just for the night,” I said softly.
She didn’t say anything. Her breathing quickened, though.
