Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 98412 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 492(@200wpm)___ 394(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98412 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 492(@200wpm)___ 394(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)
I didn’t regret having sex with Morgan, regardless of how the interlude had ended. I was disappointed about how she’d acted afterward and I’d felt like shit all night trying to figure out exactly how it had all gone wrong, but I couldn’t make myself regret it. I’d dream about her smooth skin, trembling muscles, and quiet sounds of pleasure for the rest of my life. It was a cross I would willingly bear.
“Have you talked to Kate lately?” my mom asked, dragging my attention from the scenery out my window. “She mentioned meeting us while we were here, but I haven’t heard anything about it since.”
“No,” I replied, shaking my head. “She didn’t say anything to me.”
“I should have called her this morning,” my mom mumbled, digging in her purse.
“We’re leaving tomorrow,” my dad reminded her. “If Kate didn’t show up last night, she’s not coming.”
I quietly pulled out my phone and texted my cousin while they argued about her plans.
You coming to Sacramento?
Gavin’s puking, so no. Sorry I didn’t let you know yesterday. Super disappointed.
“Gavin’s sick,” I said, interrupting my parents. “That’s why she didn’t call you yesterday.”
Inwardly, I breathed a sigh of relief. I was sorry that little Gavin was throwing up, but enormously thankful that Kate wouldn’t be anywhere near the situation I’d landed myself in. Unlike my parents, who wouldn’t suspect a thing, Kate would have taken one good look at me and known something was up. Then she probably would have meddled and made everything worse. I loved my cousin, but it was impossible for her to keep her nose out of other people’s business.
“Stan’s here again,” my mom said quietly as we pulled up to the house.
“I like him,” my dad replied with a shrug.
“Not surprising,” she said, smoothing down her hair. “You’re living vicariously through his car stories.”
“The man has good stories,” Dad said, climbing out of the driver’s seat.
I listened to them talk, their conversation moving to other things as we made our way up the sidewalk, but I barely noticed a word they said. I was too busy preparing myself to act casual when I came face-to-face with the woman who’d rejected me so spectacularly the day before.
The front door opened, and the first thing I saw was Etta, scrambling outside like she couldn’t wait a second longer to see us.
“Twevo!” she yelled, making my dad laugh as she bypassed them as if they didn’t exist.
“Hey, sweetheart,” I greeted as I lifted her high in the air.
As I lowered her to sit on my arm, my eyes met Morgan’s over her head, and my breath caught. Etta was chattering in her normal gibberish, but all I could see was her mother. Morgan was wearing a pale purple sundress and her hair was in a messy knot on top of her head. She was barefoot…and nervous. I hated that she was nervous.
“Hey guys,” she said, trying to hide the discomfort with an easy smile. “Come on in.”
“Thanks for having us over again,” my mom said as she started into the house.
“Of course,” Morgan replied, waving my dad into the house. “You should get as much time in as you can before you have to head north.”
She was being welcoming without a hint of hesitation, and I inhaled a huge sigh of relief. I was rarely wrong about people, and clearly Morgan was no exception. She wasn’t going to punish my parents for something they had no control over, and I shouldn’t have doubted her.
“Hey,” I said, giving her a small smile as I carried Etta inside.
She was obviously taken aback by my casual greeting, but after her initial reaction, she hid her surprise behind a small smile of her own.
The door closed behind me as I set Etta on her feet, and the second I stood back up I knew it wasn’t going to be easy to pretend that my feelings for Morgan had disappeared. I was standing in the exact spot where she’d torn off my shirt the day before, and the memory made my heart pound.
“Does anyone want coffee?” Morgan asked, moving across the room. Her voice wobbled only a little, but it was enough for me to realize that she’d been thinking about the same thing as me.
“I’d love a cup,” my dad said, sitting down on the couch.
“Lucky for you, my dad started it before he jumped in the shower,” Morgan replied with a little laugh. “My coffee is pretty bad.”
“You probably just don’t put enough grounds in,” my dad said, nodding. He took his coffee seriously. “That’s usually the problem.”
“You might be right,” Morgan conceded.
I stepped into the living room and sat on a chair just as my mom chimed in.
“I put enough grounds in, Mike,” she said in exasperation as she sat down on the floor with Etta and accepted a doll with a smile. “You’re just too picky.”