Blinded by Limerence

76 | The Bane of Addie's Existence

The words came out muffled, but Morgan understood every word, every syllable, every underlying meaning. 

Addie hastily dragged her long sleeves across her wet eyes. Morgan caught Addie's gaze then, and it was all she could do but break down crying again. "I just — I can't stay mad at you, for lack of a better term."

"Ads," said Morgan softly, believing that she's finally found the right words to say, the right words to fully encapsulate how sorry she is — how, even though she had no regrets about leaving, she was so selfish and how she admittedly didn't stop to consider how her leaving would affect others, "you're my best friend, and I love you. Are — are we good?"

For the seemingly millionth time in the duration of their friendship, Addie sniffled and smiled softly through the tears. "The best." 

One thing off the checklist, Morgan thought as she grinned from ear to ear at Addie's reply.

Addie's insane amount of tears cascading down her cheeks blurred her vision, which, Morgan assumed, was what made her fail to notice the pair of bright green eyes staring back at her. Nick was standing about a foot away from Morgan, and he had on a bewildered expression, clearly unsure if he should approach the scene or not.

"Who the f—?"

"Addie, this is Nicky — my son."

|

"I can't believe you have a kid now!"

The two, now getting reacquainted with one another, were seated in Addie's lounge, the Christmas tree staring them down, the fireplace alive with a crackling fire burning within. Knitted Christmas stockings, gold and silver tinsel, and everything else merry decorated the living room, and Addie had brought out celebratory champagne to mark the occasion — Morgan's return.

Nick stood by the fireplace, carefully observing the photos on the mantle, while the pair of adults sat across from him on the cream-colored sofa, their eyes never leaving the inquisitive young boy. "Yeah, it's pretty crazy, huh?" said Morgan, shaking her head and grinning. 

"That little guy just — popped out of you."

"Okay, well, that sounds graceful," remarked Morgan sarcastically as she cast Addie a what-the-fuck-even look. "You make motherhood sound absolutely swell, A."

"No! It's just —" Addie trailed off once more, trying to think of the appropriate wording. "Do you ever just stare at your kid and think... Wow, I made that."

"No!" Morgan gasped, a smile forming on her red lips. 

"Here me out, M!" retorted Addie, a determined look on her face. "Like, if you call his name, don't you just think, woah, I was the one who assigned him that name —"

"Addie —"

"It's crazy, that's what it is!" Addie exasperatedly cut Morgan off. "Not only did you make this little dude —" she gestured to Nick who was now playing with the festive ornaments "— but he's also like — like this little version of you!"

At that, Morgan stared longingly at her little boy, how his small fingers delicately traced the porcelain Santa Claus bauble. "I mean, I can't take all the credit," she said solemnly. She leaned in so that this next part could only be heard by Addie and added in a whisper, "After all, what's an egg without a sperm?"

Addie burst out laughing at the blonde's crude remark. 

"I've forgotten how gross you can be, M," she chuckled, shaking her head dismissively, "but still — it's crazy. I can actually make out what Nick got from you and what he got from Tre—"

Addie cut herself off then, tentatively glancing in Morgan's direction.

"It's okay, A. You can say 'Trevor' — sheesh, it's not like he's Voldemort or anything," she added, grinning.

"Okay, I know for a fact that you haven't read any of the Harry Potter books or watched any of the movies," Addie said, pompously crossing her arms over her chest. "Game, set, match."

"I could've in the six years I've been gone, you know!" retaliated Morgan, mirroring the brunette's wide smile — but the moment the words slipped past her lips, her smile faltered, and so did Addie's. "I — er — besides — you don't even watch tennis..." 

But she couldn't have known if that had changed, too.

Awkward would be an understatement to what both were feeling. The truth was that they've lost six years, and both could've changed a lot in the years they were apart; both were completely different people who simply shared some characteristics with the version they used to know.

"Shut up," laughed Addie forcefully. "We're — we're both very cultured women."

"I'll drink to that," Morgan said shortly, hastily raising her glass. 

It was only then that Morgan noticed Addie had only brought out one glass, had only poured one glass — 

"A?" she prompted quietly, looking at her best friend with concern-filled eyes.

Addie's gaze followed Morgan's to see what she'd been looking at, the singular glass in the latter's hand — and true to Morgan's sudden realization, this Addie isn't the same Addie she used to know —

"I — er —" Addie muttered as she averted her eyes away from the blonde's studious gaze. "I — I may or may not have a teensy weensy drinking problem."