Total pages in book: 33
Estimated words: 30987 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 155(@200wpm)___ 124(@250wpm)___ 103(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 30987 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 155(@200wpm)___ 124(@250wpm)___ 103(@300wpm)
“Seems like a trap. You and Morgan obviously watch a lot of television together or movies or whatever, and so I suspect your tastes are aligned, so this is like a trick question. Sort of like the one where if both of you were drowning whom would I save first, and the answer is I wouldn’t have to choose because I’m fit enough to save you both at the same time. If I didn’t save you both, I might as well drown in the ocean with you because if one of you passed, the other would be distraught, and my life wouldn’t be worth shit then.”
Mrs. H purses her lips and nods slowly. “That was a lot of words to not answer my question, but I’ll let it go because it was a good response.”
Point for me.
“Are you going to hover behind the sofa the whole time or are you gonna join us up here?” I direct over my shoulder to Morgan.
“Why do you have a black eye? And what’s in the box?”
“The box is for you.” I pat the top of it. “I hadn’t seen you for a few hours. It’s a been thinking about you box.”
“In a horror movie, somebody’s body part would be in there.”
“That’s just my heart.”
Mrs. H claps in delight. At the door, Alfred snorts. I might not win him over, but Mrs. H is definitely coming around.
“She ran. You chased. I like it.” Mrs. H grins.
“I’m not a runner,” shouts Morgan.
“This won’t be the last time she runs,” Mrs. H warns me, ignoring Morgan’s outburst. “You have to stick with it. Persistence is not a quality common in your generation.”
“I'm in my early twenties. What generation are we talking about?”
“Every generation after mine. You all lack gumption.”
Alfred sniffs loudly.
“Not you, Alfred. You’re exempted. Let’s leave these two children alone. I suspect they have some things to talk about.” Mrs. H gets to her feet.
After Mrs. H drags Alfred out of the room, awkward silence hangs in the air.
“Are you gonna come over and take a look at what’s in the box? I fought Matty for it.”
She moves around the end of the sofa and stops about six feet away. “Are you two even friends? Every time I see you, you’ve gotten into some kind of fistfight with him.”
“That’s how you know we’re good friends. Because we can fight and make up and fight again and make up.”
“Have you considered that the relationship you really want is with Matty and not with me?”
“Is that what you told yourself when you got up and ran away?” I counter.
She wrinkles her nose. “The box looks familiar and expensive,” she comments and avoids my question.
I let her change the topic. “I don’t know how much it cost. I was fighting Matty and gave the lady my credit card, and as soon as it cleared, I ran out. He was trying to buy something for Blake.”
Morgan slides the remaining distance and settles into the cushion next to me, making sure we’re not touching as if contact with me will strip away all the defenses she’s erected. She gives the ribbon securing the box a small tug, and when she lifts the lid off, a gasp escapes her.
I cough into my fist to hide my smug smile. That little sound made all the pain go away. I’d fight a lion for her.
“It’s beautiful.”
“I know you carry around that black one with the red embroidery, so I didn’t wanna get you another black one, but I thought this would be a nice contrast. The red makes me think of you.” Fiery, passionate, welcoming.
“I think it’s too expensive.”
“Now, I didn’t go to all that trouble just for you to turn it down. Besides, red is more your color than mine. I’m a blue sky guy myself.”
A reluctant smile comes to her mouth. “Aren’t you worried that giving me this pretty, expensive gift encourages me to run?”
“There are better things if you stick around. Like breakfast in bed, and I don’t mean just early morning sex but like waffles and strawberries and whip cream and then sex.”
Slowly, Morgan places the bag back inside the box and folds the tissue paper so only a hint of the red shows through the opaque white paper. “I don’t know,” she starts to say, and I know whatever comes next is not something I’m gonna want to hear. “I don’t think I’m made for these kinds of relationships. I don’t have good experiences with long-term connections.”
“Other than your grandma and Alfred.”
“Grandma won’t give up on me.” A rueful smile tilts the corners of her lips up.
“And you think I will. That’s fair. You haven’t known me for very long, plus, you’re scared of my dick. Don’t worry.” I pat her hand. “You’re going to get used to me and my dick all in good time.”