Sand In My Boots: The Sequel

Chapter 8

There was this huge whiskey and beer festival taking place in the heart of Nashville. The festivities ran for a total of ten days with numerous concerts and activities sprinkled over the course of the event. According to Seth's brother, Josh and his friend's had flown in for the festival a couple of days ago and were staying at the Hyatt House downtown.

"People are so gonna recognize us, Morgan. It's not even funny how dumb this plan is," I said, looking at my altered reflection in the mirror. The platinum blonde wig I had on was making my scalp itchy and the stupid glasses looked painfully fake. I scrunched my nose at the sight.

"You look hot. Like a nerdy cowgirl with them blonde hair and little glasses," he winked. I rolled my eyes at him.

"People are gonna spot you from a mile away. I don't get why we spent so much time putting together a whole costume for me when I'm not even the famous one."

"I can wear sunglasses," he shrugged.

"Wow, okay, Clark Kent. Good disguise," I deadpanned. He sighed.

"Hold on, I'll figure something out," he said before walking towards the bathroom and locking himself in.

I grunted as soon as my gaze met my reflection. This is dumb.

Morgan's plan was to go down to Josh's hotel and that I pretend to be his wife and to have locked myself out of our room. He said that if I looked desperate enough the front desk lady would probably let me in, which I honestly highly doubted to begin with. But now, looking at myself, I was fairly certain that she would just see a weirdo with a wig and fake glasses and burst out laughing.

Lesli had swung by and brought the kids to her place, again, and while my heart sank in my chest everytime I watched them leave, Morgan insisted that it was good for me to define myself outside of my role as a mother and I couldn't say I fully disagreed. I knew Dr. Finley would have agreed too.

"What do you think?" He asked. I turned around to face him and couldn't help but to let my jaw drop.

"What the fuck," I said, barely above a whisper. He giggled, letting his -very bald- head fall back.

"Do you like it?" He asked.

"I- Holy sh- I-" I mumbled incoherently.

"Ow," he clutched his chest, pretending to be hurt by my reaction.

"I don't know what to say," I finally blurted out, at a loss for words.

"Alright, so, you don't like it. Fine, whatever, it'll grow back," he said nonchalantly.

"I didn't say I don't-, I-, It's fine, you look good," I mumbled. He put his hat back on and came to stand next to me in front of the mirror, staring at his reflection.

"Still think people will recognize me?" He snarked, putting sunglasses on.

"I mean, you didn't have to be this extreme about it," I said, letting my hand trail on his bare nape.

"Will you still marry me?"

"Oh my god, you're gonna be bald in our wedding pictures," I said as the realization dawned on me. He laughed at my reaction and pulled me into his chest, wrapping his arms around my shoulders.

"You could always lend me that blonde wig," he joked. I rolled my eyes and cracked a smile.

***

We got to the Hyatt House and weirdly enough the lobby was nearly empty. We made our way to the front desk and the lady welcomed us with a smile.

"Welcome to the Hyatt House, do you have a reservation?" She asked politely, seemingly not thinking anything special of my idiotic outfit.

"Well, I was hoping you could help me," I started. "My husband and I have a room here and I ran back here to grab some stuff out of our bags while he's enjoying the festival but, silly me, I forgot to ask him for the key card," I said, slapping my forehead.