Dedicated to SamDeeXO and my other (favorite) readers. Sorry for the delay❤️
𝘾𝙝𝙧𝙞𝙨
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"Why, thank you, Christopher." Lydia says to me with a proper handshake.
I laugh at her. "Please call me Chris."
I hate when people other than Morgan, Mom, or Dad, call me Christopher, it seems condescending. When women do it, it comes off flirty.
"Well, Chris, I'm impressed. You seem to really know what you're talking about." She smiles smug.
"Well it is my job." I chuckle, showing her out of my home office.
Time got away from me, she was only supposed to pick up the blueprints to her home, but with all the questions she had, it turned into a full blown consultation; the good part being she agreed to pay me for this past hour of my time.
"Oh," Lydia's voice sounds shocked. "Going somewhere?" She asks me, seeing the luggage in the foyer.
"Not that I know of..." I scratch my head, opening the door for her.
"Again, thank you." She says but I'm hardly paying attention. I tilt my head, trying to convince myself that this isn't my luggage in the foyer.
"Yeah." I clear my throat and see her through the door before shutting it.
I step towards the suitcases and travel backpack, still stumped.
I don't remember Morgan mentioning anything about a trip, I think in my head.
Hm. The bags are full. Full of my clothes and shoes, that is.
Jesus, how long are we gonna be gone, Morgan packed a lot of my shit?
"Baby!" I jog upstairs yelling, "Babe, where we going?"
I walk down the hall and see my mother exiting my bedroom.
She looks at me, blankly, and I stare back.
There's tears streaming from her eyes, I don't hesitate to wonder why.
"Is Morgan okay?" I ask, slowly approaching our bedroom door.
Mom doesn't say anything, she only sniffles and blows her nose into a crumbled tissue.
Ignoring her, I try going inside but the door is locked.
What the hell?
I shove my shoulder into the wood and it doesn't budge.
"Is Morgan in here?" I ask my mother.
Still, she remains silent. This time, though, she painstakingly looks away from me.
"Mom, what the fuck? Answer me." I raise my voice, violently shaking the door knob.
"I'm not in it!" She yells, flailing her arms as she storms off.
Mary bumps into my father's chest and pushes him out of her way, too. He stands there, confused like I am.
I cut my eyes away from him down the hall and return to trying to open this damn door.
After banging relentlessly and shouting for Morgan, she opens the door and shoves my travel wash bag at my chest.
"Morgan, what the fuck?!" I bark as she tries to slam the door in my face but I stop it with one hand.
She stomps over to the bed and sits with her arms folded over her chest.
"You better start talking." I wait for an explanation, hands on my hips after throwing my things across the bed.
She barely moves a muscle, just looks ahead blankly and says, "There's nothing to say to each other, that's why I put your shit at the door."
"The fuck did I do?" I furrow my eyebrows, standing over her.
Morgan stands and finally looks me in the eyes. Usually I'm met with her sparkling blue-green orbs but they have gone dark, and I'm scared.
"What were your results, Chris? And be honest." She remarks, arms folded over her chest.
I look at her for a while, completely dumbfounded.
"Okay... I am confused as shit." I confess, dropping my arms by my sides.
Morgan impatiently smacks her lips. "You have an STD?" She asks me.
Ohhhhhh!
I slap my knee, laughing hysterically. Whew. What a relief.
Bent over with a pain in my side from laughing so hard, I admit, "Phew. No. No, I don't. That's what this is about?"
Except Morgan is not laughing. "Why did you get tested? You think I have one?"
"No!" I insist.
She looks at me with a bored face. "So?" Her neck rolls.
"I was just being safe, Morgan?" I tell her the truth, trying to hold her hands and look her in the eyes.
"Why the fuck did you get tested all of sudden, Chris?" Her use of strong language suddenly throws me off.
Unsure of what to say here, I throw my hands up in innocence. Now she's angrier than I've ever seen her before.
"Calm down," I beg, "it's not like that-"
She cuts me off to say, "Is this why you didn't have sex with me all week, you were waiting for the results? Oh, God."
Morgan nervously laughs then takes a seat on the bench.
"Fuck," she gags, holding her stomach.
"Who is she, Chris? Is it one of the girls from your job? Tell me right now, I swear to God!"
I am honestly so baffled, that I can't speak. I try to, my mouth opens but nothing comes out. She doesn't even give me time.
"Get out." Morgan stands and points to the door.
When I don't budge, she pushes me in my back and tries again to shut the door in my face.
"And go where?!" I roar. "Wait, no— for what?!" I argue.
"Anywhere but here," she says, finally successfully locking me out of the room.
"MORGAN!" I yell.
Fuck! I kick the wood.
"Morgan, baby, open the door! It isn't what you think, I swear. Can we— can we just talk about this?" I beg, sliding down the door.
I use my knuckles to knock but I know it's no use. She's probably in bed, crying into her pillow, tuning me out. I'll give it to her, the old Morgan wouldn't have been able to kick me out or not hear my side of things. She's grown as a woman, that's for sure, but maybe I miss that timid, more forgiving side of her? This post-retreat Morgan is a hard ass apparently.
Dad turns the corner and appears to stand over me. I hate him seeing me like this, it's not very manly. I'm weak.
He offers a hand and brings me to my feet.
"I don't know what happened," he says through his thick voice with a hand on my shoulder. "and I don't want to know. What I suggest is you just stay somewhere else for the night, let her and Mom cool off."
✕
"—Thanks again for letting me stay here," I grunt as I kick my shoes off. "it'll only be for a night."
Lydia walks in behind me with Bebe on a leash.
The dog shakes the rain from its fur and then scurries across the hardwood floor.
"Don't mention it," Lydia says with a smile as she removes her raincoat. "you did just help me jumpstart my car - that old piece of crap."
I laugh softly. "Don't mention it."
Seeing me struggle, Lydia gives me a hand and helps take off my rain coat.
I chuckle, thanking her with eye contact. "I didn't know it was supposed to storm. It caught me at the right time."
"Yeah? Why were you out so late?"
"Jogging," I answer, "had to clear my head."
That's the truth. After arguing with Morgan, I threw my suitcases in the Tesla. I had no idea where to go, I didn't want to call Donny or the guys. And I damn sure wasn't about to pay for a hotel.
This will pass by tomorrow. Morgan's just pissed right now, it is best we sleep apart.
Still, I can't believe she handled it like that. If she just let me explain, none of this would be happening right now. . .
"Well you caught me at the right time, too, huh? Must've been a sign." She giggles, removing her red pumps by the grand staircase.
"Wow, Lydia, this house is-"
She cuts me off to guess, "Old?"
I laugh, looking around. "I was going to say nice. Really, it's nice."
"I haven't changed it since my husband passed, I didn't have the heart."
"So why'd you decide to hire me?"
She removes Bobby pins from her hair as she stares in a mirror above a coffee table in the foyer.
With a sigh, Lydia says, "It was time. Plus your work inspired me."
I smile humbly. "Well, thank you."
"Stay here, I'll fetch some warm clothes and a blanket."
"Thank you." I reply, watching her walk up the stairs.
Once she's gone, I give myself a tour. While the house is mostly white, it still feels dark. Unsettling.
I look down before any further wandering, and see Bebe staring up at me. Well, it looks like the dog is staring at me, but it's blind so I don't know.
I walk around the ankle biter and look at some portraits on the walls. It's not many but the ones that are hung up are well done.
Evidence of Lydia's Jewish background is prevalent throughout the home.
A picture of a young man in the military catches my eye. I lift the frame to get a better look.
"That's my son, his name was Jason." Lydia suddenly appears.
I jump out of my skin and put the frame back on the mantle.
"Snooping?" She presumes, clothes and blanket in her hand.
I laugh nervously. "Just familiarizing myself with the place before the build."
Lydia nods her head. "He died in the army."
"I'm sorry." I tell her, taking the things from her hands.
"Nevermind that. Here are some clothes and this is a blanket. You don't have to sleep on the couch, you know?" Her smile spreads over her red lips.
"I'll be fine." I assure her, avoiding eye contact.
"Good night, Chris." Lydia whispers to me. She turns on her heels and then puckers her lips to call for Bebe.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
I jolt out of my sleep at my desk and sit up.
"Come in." I say after clearing my throat.
Nia Aragon enters my office to me tidying up the trinkets on my desk. By "trinkets" I mean the papers, array of pens, and stress relief items cluttering the surface.
"How are you Chris?" She asks me, talking quickly.
Surprised she even ask, I pop my eyebrows and start to give an honest answer. "Tired, actually. I-"
She cuts me off to ask, "The Augustin project, how's that going?" I knew she didn't care about how I felt.
"How are you" is typically a throw away question for anyone who asks it, especially coming from Nia who does care but not enough to have a full conversation about it if it's not making her money.
"What? I haven't even started, yet. She has the original blueprints, that's about it."
"What does she have in mind?"
I shrug before a yawn comes on. "Wants something modern."
Nia smirks. With her pointer finger aimed at me, she says, "Ah, your speciality."
I just exhale deeply. "My specialty," I chuckle. "Nia?"
Her thin eyebrow raises hearing her name. "Yes?" That usually sharp tone softens for me.
I exhale again, this time even deeper. "Do you think you want to do this forever?"
She switches dominant legs in her stance and a smile pops across her lips. "Why?"
"I'm asking." I shrug.
She sighs but with a hard-thinking smirk. "Yes. I like where I'm at."
"Not me," I shake my head. "What if I always want more?"
"You don't come across like you have that personality trait, but it could be why you're perfect for this type of work. You could really come a big deal one day."
"Then what after that?" I ask, knuckles pressed against my lower lip.
Nia flips the bang out of her face and narrows her eyes on me but keeps a crooked grin. "What's this about?"
I hunch my shoulders and sit back in the seat. "I don't know if I want to be a working-man forever, mostly because I know I won't be able to stop. Mostly..." my voice trails off.
After pausing for a beat, I lean forward and open my fists to talk to Nia, head up. "I like working, so far it's been full of big moments... but I don't want to miss real life, you know? There are other big moments, like my wedding day. Huh. Besides, that's the only thing that'll actually be fulfilling— marrying Morgan, raising a family, retiring to some small mountain town when we're older." My eyes drift away as my words transport me to a whimsical daydream in which I envision the exact future I've imagined.
"Chris?" Nia's voice breaks me out of my thoughts.
"Huh?" I shake my head, bringing myself back to reality.
I look at my boss and she drops her head, laughing, on her way out of the door. "Get some work done, lover boy."
✕
"Chris, how much further? My feet are killing me." Morgan complains during our walk up the hill.
The national park offers scenic views, an array of friendly but distant wildlife, and the perfect spot for a picnic at the very top of the mountain.
It's perfect too, just before sunset. I didn't want to miss it so I skipped lunch and got off an hour early to spend time with Morgan.
"This is perfect." I tell her, pulling the backpack off of my shoulders.
The bag falls around my sneakers and I immediately drop to my knees to empty the contents and set up.
Three years in, you'd think Morgan would be used to these picnic dates by now but she's giddy every time like it's her first. The key is spontaneity.
I have to do a double take at my gorgeous fiancé when a gust of wind blows the hair across her face.
"Stop looking at me like that, I'm mad at you." Morgan pouts, playfully hitting me in the arm.
I sit beside her and offer to make a turkey sandwich - her favorite. I know exactly how she likes them made because it's also how I prefer mine.
As I spread mayonnaise across the bread, Morgan let's out a sigh.
"I did get your messages, though," she pauses for a moment before continuing. "all fourteen of them." Her giggle at the end brings me relief.
"You listening to all of them?" I ask, not looking up from placing the cheese on the turkey.
"I did. I'm sorry I didn't listen to you, I shouldn't have overreacted like that-"
I stop her there, putting my hand up. "Don't say sorry to me, it's not your fault. I know how it looked. I'm the one who's sorry. I shouldn't have listened to Tate, he just got in my head about all the STD stuff and I remembered I never got checked last year with all of the Sabri— nevermind."
Morgan puts her hand on top of mine and once I look into her eyes, hers soften and she nods her head at me.
I put my palm on her chin and then smile warmly. "You mean so much to me."
"I know, Chris," Morgan's voice is so cute. "you tell me all the time." She giggles.
I laugh and pass Morgan the sandwich.
She thanks me with a radiant smile - I know she's grateful for the gesture but also this is the face she makes every time she eats and is satisfied with food.
Knowing her, I impress her with two chip options: Lays salt and vinegar or cheddar cheese Pringles.
Morgan cutely points to the Pringles with her finger and snatches them from me.
It's like she starts to mimic me, Morgan becomes my reflection as she smashes a handful of the chips and puts them on her sandwich.
I bite into a dill pickle and so does she.
When I reach for an orange Gatorade, so does she.
With her hand on mine, we glance at each other and then bust into laughter.
I back off to let her take the orange Gatorade since it is her favorite flavor, but she nonverbally insist I take it.
So, I have a swallow or two and then give her the rest. Compromise.
Plus, if I kept it for myself she would've just drank half anyway.
Morgan laughs off a burp, excusing herself and then takes the worlds smallest, cutest bites into the sandwich. This isn't a shy or insecure thing, either, she just always eats so delicately.
Me, on the other hand, I'm almost finished my sandwich in two bites.
Morgan shakes her head at me and dabs a paper towel over my mouth, wiping up mayonnaise for me.
It's those motherly tendencies that make me swoon- such a little thing means so much to me, and the fact that it comes with no judgement.
"This is nice." Morgan says out of nowhere, playing that little eye game with me.
"What is?" I ask, edging a burp.
"A year or two ago, we would've broken up - taken a break, gone days without speaking, at least." She speaks with less confidence.
"Well let's break up then." I say jokingly, holding my laughter for Morgan's eye contact.
Just as her eyes cut to me, I'm attacked.
I bust out laughing as Morgan's body weight takes me down.
I fall onto my back, hysterical, and wrap her in my arms. She weighs almost a whole hundred pounds less than me but think she can really tackle me and hold me down, how cute.
Our eyes lock and I see a twinkle in her eyes but I can't tell if it's just a reflection of the shimmer in mine, or not.
It feels like an eternity before either of us say a word.
"I love you," I say, dipping my fingers into the deep line down Morgan's back.
"So much." I add.
Morgan pulls her nose from the crease between my neck and shoulders and looks down at me, her papaya-smelling hair curtaining my head.
"Hey," she bubbles, "that's my line."