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“Everything alright?” Morgan asked.
Alex looked up at her, standing just outside of the door, arms folded around her waist. All of those brown curls were hanging messily around her face as though she’d been lying down and the hair band had loosened.
“Actually, I’m bored.” Alex decided honesty was the best policy right now. “I’m hungry, bored and frustrated.”
Morgan took a couple of steps forward, her arms falling limply by her side.
“Do you want me to put the TV on? There might be a film worth watching. I can order room service.” She found the menu, picked up the remote and handed them to Alex. “Just let me know what you want and—”
“I want you to stop avoiding me,” Alex said. “Or at least go and do something, instead of locking yourself away in your room.”
Morgan said nothing, but moved across the room to an armchair, where she sat down and thought.
“I don’t know what else to do,” she finally said.
“I don’t want you to feel like a pariah, exiling yourself to a room whenever it’s just you and me.”
“That’s not—”
“Yes, it is. You’re keeping out of my way, and I get it. I’m feeling the same difficulties around you, but it’s going to be a long three weeks if we can’t even spend time in the same room together.”
“I don’t understand you.” Morgan leaned forward, elbows on her knees, hands clasped together. “From the moment we met, there’s been this crackling electricity between us. I know you’re attracted to me, I’m not blind, and I’ve made it very clear how I feel and so when we—” She closed her eyes and let the image of a naked Alex hovering above her disperse. “When we spent the night together, I just—it made sense, and now, youwant me to just switch off my feelings, my desires and ignore the chemistry that is still there.”
“I know, and I’m sorry, I really am. I take full responsibility. I should have kept my libido in check and not ruined—”
“Ruined? Nothing was ruined, it was exhilarating and fun, and I want more of it, but if I can’t then I need to create space between us, and remain completely professional and not interact with you, because all that will do is confuse the message you’ve given.” She waited for Alex to say something, to argue with her or debate the way forward, but when nothing came, she said, “So, shall I order dinner?”
“Would you at least eat with me?” Alex asked when the porter left, and the entire room filled with the scent of hot food.
Morgan considered the offer and nodded. “Sure, do you want it on your lap or—”
“I’d like to sit at the table if that’s okay, and you don’t mind helping me up?” She gave a small, vulnerable smile in Morgan’s direction and watched hopefully when Morgan moved closer. “Thank you.”
“It’s in my job description,” Morgan said a little pithily, reminded of the same words Alex had said in Winchester.
“Touché.” Alex swung herself around and into a sitting position. When Morgan reached under her arm, she pushed herself up and placed all of her weight onto her good ankle. Morgan then slid her arm around her waist, Alex’s arm easingaround Morgan’s shoulder as they shuffled together the few feet to the table.
With Alex situated at the end, Morgan dragged another of the chairs closer and raised Alex’s leg up before she found a cushion and squeezed it under her ankle. The bag of ice from earlier had worked well, and the swelling was minimal, but the bruising was a nice shade of blue and red, maybe even a hint of purple.
“Is that necessary?” Alex asked.
“Are you suggesting that I’d make you do it for fun, or as some form of sadistic punishment?” Morgan retorted.
Alex shook her head. “No, of course not, I just… It isn’t very comfortable, and dinner isn’t going to take much more than half an hour—”
“Do you want to walk on stage tomorrow, or hobble with a cane?”
Alex nodded. “Fair enough.”
Satisfied with her position, Morgan set about lifting the lids off of the plates and bowls, passing Alex her plate and offering to add accompanying side dishes.
“Yes, thank you. A little of each would be lovely.” When both plates were full and Morgan had taken her seat again, Alex said, “I’m not used to people making me feel better and doing things for me. I’m sorry if I come off abrasive or ungrateful.”
The comment surprised Morgan. “I thought with the way Francine is, your entire life was about people doing things for you and making you feel good.”
Cutting into a lamb chop, Alex said, “Yes, I guess in some areas of my life that’s true. Francine manages all of the practicalthings, the logistics, I suppose, but I don’t have anyone who just makes me feel better or helps in a more emotional way.”
Morgan was already chewing a piece of salmon, so she just nodded an acknowledgement.
