2. Chapter 2
Chapter 2
Morgan
I never thought that I would be interested in living in the burbs, but I’m starting to see the appeal. It’s quiet, there’s plenty of room for activities, and most importantly, there’s running water. I would honestly force my best friend to let me stay another night if I didn’t have to see her fiancé, Dr. Demonspawn around the house. Even a single night under Parker Winters’s roof while I wait for the plumber to fix the pipes in my Virginia Highlands rental makes me nervous that I’m going to get kidnapped by his underlings and sent to his hellish lair.
“What do you think of Cliterate Cumsluts?” I ask, plopping down onto the brand-new sectional in Cassidy’s massive living room.
I recently created a group text for my friends, and I’ve been waffling on the name of it for days. Cass keeps vetoing all of my suggestions because she hasn’t spoken to her fiancé in a week and can’t appreciate my brand of humor at the moment. But she knows that she can’t reject my ideas forever—I’m impossible to resist.
“Do you have nothing better in your arsenal of alliteration?” Cassidy asks, rolling her hazel eyes as she tangles her bare feet with mine. “That’s disgusting.”
Her long blonde hair is pulled into a messy bun at the top of her head, a few wispy strands escaping to frame her face. She’s wearing an oversized sorority T-shirt and boxers, and I try not to think about who owns the underwear because I’m currently lounging around in a matching outfit myself.
I got the call about the water situation this afternoon while I was at work, and since the plumber couldn’t come until tomorrow, Cass offered to let me stay over tonight. I agreed, figuring that I could kill two birds with one stone—spending time with my bestie, and taking a nice hot shower.
“Claire liked the name,” I respond defensively. “She said it’s perfect because that’s what she’s turned into recently.”
Cassidy’s nose wrinkles, and she kicks my shin. “Gross, Morg. Some things are better left unsaid.”
Giggling, I start to flick through the movie options on Netflix. Her future sister-in-law never actually said those words, I just wanted to see how she would respond—sometimes you’ve got to amuse yourself.
While Cass and I have been friends for several years because we work in the same department, I’ve only known Claire for a few months. But sometimes it feels like I’ve known her longer because we’re so in sync. Honestly, if we weren’t almost a foot apart in height, I would think we were twins who were separated at birth.
I was sad she couldn’t hang tonight, but apparently she has her first nursing school exam next week and needs to study. I told her that studying is for losers, and the only things worth knowing are the ones that she’ll learn in clinical, but she didn’t believe me. One day she’ll realize that I’m right about everything, just like everyone eventually does.
“What are your thoughts on Margarita Mamas?” I ask, moving my legs out of the strike zone to prop them on the white-washed coffee table which also looks brand new despite the slew of junk covering the surface.
An entire box of Mellow Mushroom pizza has already been stuffed into our mouths. A bottle of red wine is well on its way to being emptied. And we’re about an hour away from passing out on the couch. Nights like these with my best friend are truly priceless.
“That group name would make sense if any of us were moms.” Cassidy shoots me a concerned glare like she’s trying to determine if I am, indeed, a mom.
I roll my eyes because she should know better. I wouldn’t be half a bottle of wine deep if I was pregnant . . . I am a nurse after all. And despite my daily nutritional intake of zero fruits and vegetables, I do have some sense of health promotion.
“Don’t give me that look,” I state with a pout. “I haven’t had sex this entire year. There’s absolutely zero chance that I’m pregnant, unless it’s with a fictional man’s baby.”
To be fair, my dry spell is entirely self-imposed—it’s not like there haven’t been loads of guys blowing up my DMs, but at some point, I got tired of lackluster sex with men who didn’t make me feel anything other than bored.
Yeah, I like the attention and it strokes my massive ego, but you can only pretend to come so many times before you start wondering if there’s more to life than faking it. At this point, I’m totally fine living alone with my vibrator and one-handed reads because at least I know I’ll always be satisfied.
“It’s only January fifteenth.”
“Exactly. I’m practically celibate,” I groan, spitting a strand of hair from my mouth. “Find us something to watch while I fix my damn braid. Not sure how I let you convince me that I’d look good with shoulder-length hair. This is worse than when I had bangs.”
I sit up and toss the remote at Cass. She conned me into chopping off my gorgeous chestnut locks last Halloween for a Spice Girls costume, and I’ve been trying to grow it back ever since. My hair only slightly passed my collarbone, and I’m about at my wits’ end of patience. At this point, I either need to overdose on Biotin or pay for extensions because I’m tired of the effort that having short hair requires.
“Anyways,” I say as I secure a clear tie at the base of my braid and flop back into my original position, “I know for a fact that I’m not a mother because my New Year’s Resolution was to stop hooking up with guys who don’t make my kitty purr.”
My best friend clamps her lips together to hide her smile. “Interesting.”
“What’s interesting?”
“Oh you know,” she starts, clearly amused by whatever is about to come out of her mouth. “It just looked like Walker was well on his way to doing that the night of my engagement party.”
My cheeks flame as I fumble for a lie.
“Not sure what you’re talking about,” I scoff, though I know exactly what she’s talking about.
The way that Walker Chastain looked at me that night was unlike anything I’d ever experienced before. It was like he wanted to devour me. Like he wanted to ruin me. Like he hated everything about me, but at the same time, he couldn’t stay away.
And even though it goes against everything I believe in, I couldn’t either.
I really can’t explain my visceral reaction to him that night because he isn’t my usual type. He’s a physician, and if there’s anything worse than a man who only cares about his own pleasure, it’s a man who went to medical school. I have a strict rule to never, ever, look twice at anyone in scrubs, which is probably why I never really noticed him until that night when he was disguised in a tuxedo.
Cass leans forward and takes a sip of her Merlot. “I never thought you’d be into a guy with tats.”
Me either.
I’ve never felt uncertain and nervous around a man in my life, but Walker made me feel that way with a single look.He’s broody and quiet—the kind of guy who you have no idea what’s going through his head when you look at him because he’s so good at controlling his reactions.
And honestly, it isn’t even his impenetrable vibe that makes me uneasy when I think back on that night—it’s his eyes. Eyes that are a deep, rich brown but completely empty, like they were once sucked free of all of the joy in the world. It made me wonder what had to happen in his life to have eyes like that. Eyes that don’t really see.
The weird thing, though, is that despite how much he seemed to be fighting it, it felt like all he saw that night was me.
“First of all,” I state, pretending to be disinterested in this conversation despite the way my pulse is racing. “I’m not into anyone. Walker is just another name on the long list of men who are obsessed with me. Second of all, he’s married, so it wouldn’t even matter if I was.”
“Is he?” Cass asks, a smug expression on her face.
I roll my eyes. “Yes, dumb dumb. According to Dr. Google.”
I may or may not have put my FBI agent cap on the next day because I wanted to understand why in God’s name he would walk away from me. It felt like we were playing a game of cat and mouse that we were both enjoying until he suddenly forfeited at the last second, right before he planted a kiss on my lips. He caged me in and then set me free like I wasn’t worthy of keeping, which pissed me off until I found his wedding photographer’s website from five years ago and everything made sense—the fucker isn’t on the market.
While I like to think that I’m adventurous in bed, the one thing I would never do is cross the line with a married man. Part of that is because I’m a Leo, and I refuse to share attention with anyone. The other part is that I’m a child of divorce, so I intimately understand the repercussions of illicit affairs—I have no desire to cause anyone to go through the headache I watched as a kid. Not even for the most gorgeous man in the world . . . which he isn’t, but he’s definitely close.
“Hmmm,” Cassidy muses into the rim of her wine glass. Her eyes are sparkling, like they’re dying to tell me something.
“Yes?”
She takes a deep breath to build suspense and then quickly blurts, “Parker told me that Walker is actually getting divorced, and they’ve been separated since December, and it’s supposed to be final soon.”
I feel my eyes go wide because there are multiple interesting things about the statement she just made. And while I would love to unpack the part about the surgeon who made my entire body tingle with just a single look, I decide to shift gears on our conversation—this is the first time she’s mentioned speaking to her fiancé in a week.
“Oh, Parker told you? Care to update me?” I plaster a fake grin on my face like I’m happy for her when the truth is that the fucker does nothing but piss me off.
I’ve never felt like he deserved my angelic best friend, and all I can pray for is that she comes to her senses before the wedding. But if she doesn’t, I’ll pray that there’s no prenup. That way she’ll take half when she inevitably gets sick of his bullshit.
“Well,” Cass says tentatively, setting down her wine glass on a ceramic coaster. “Remind me what the last thing I told you was?”
“That your bitch boy fiancé can’t see that you’re the best thing to ever happen to him,” I answer.
Cassidy didn’t say those words, but I’m paraphrasing.
Basically, Parker acted like a petulant child and wouldn’t speak to her because his ex-best friend, Weston, came back into town. And yes, it doesn’t help that Weston also happens to be Cassidy’s high school ex-boyfriend. Or that Cass kept in touch with him behind Parker’s back. Even I will admit that it wasn’t her best choice. However, I’m going to support her in whatever she does because my loyalty lies with my best friend, not her fiancé.
“Ah,” she sighs, looking away for a moment like she doesn’t want to tell me anything.
I probably should have phrased my words better and controlled my tone, but sometimes I struggle to hold my tongue.
Sorry that I’m human.
“By the way,” I add, trying to draw her back in, “you know that I support you in whatever you do right? If you want to go all ‘Goodbye Earl’ and wrap Parker’s ass in a tarp, I’ll be the one next to you giving him the black-eyed peas. And if you want to elope and marry his ass tomorrow, I’ll call in to the hospital and personally cover your shifts. I’ll be there for you no matter what you decide.”
Her expression softens despite the threat in my words. “I know. You’re the most loyal person I know, Morg, and I’m sorry I haven’t updated you. I’ve just been terrified that things wouldn’t work out, and I didn’t want to admit that to anyone, let alone myself.”
She takes a deep breath like she’s gathering her thoughts before continuing, “I think I just needed to sit with my guilt for a minute because the situation was entirely my fault. Parker asked me not to keep secrets from him, and I went behind his back. Again.”
I feel my blood start to boil.
Has he considered why she kept secrets from him?
Maybe it’s because he’s a goddamn baby who can’t handle any truth other than the one that he makes up in his tiny little brain. And maybe if he pulled his head out of his ass and listened to her side of the story, they wouldn’t be in this situation at all.
If I were in her shoes, I would’ve just been honest with the fucker, let him blow up, and then moved on like an adult. But for some reason, Cass walks on eggshells around him. And I hate that for her because she deserves better. She deserves more than a life of treading on thin ice.
“He doesn’t—”
“He does,” Cass interrupts me in a harsh tone. “He does get to ask that, Morg. And he had every right to react the way that he did.”
“So, what?” I ask, throwing my arms in the air dramatically because I clearly can’t be tamed when it comes to defending people that I love. “He’s just going to ignore you every time you do something he doesn’t agree with? Gaslight you into thinking that you’re the problem, when really it’s him? That’s manipulation, Cass, not a beautiful marriage.”
She blinks a few times, like she’s stunned by what I just said. “Do you really believe that?”
I have to take a second to think about how to respond. I didn’t mean to be so honest, but the words just spilled out and now I can’t take them back.
“No, I don’t,” I reply, though it’s a half-truth. “I think the two of you will figure your shit out and be totally fine. But I also think that you let him steamroll you just because you want to be together. And sometimes I don’t understand why. I mean, I know he’s got a big dick and all, but is it really worth it?”
My joke lands and her lips twitch into a small smile, slightly easing the tension between us.
“It’s worth it,” she teases. “But I understand where you’re coming from. When Parker came home from drinks after work yesterday, we hashed it all out. We’re in a much better place now.”
“Did you?” I arch my brow. “God, please tell me that your ass is okay.”
My bestie doesn’t share a ton about her sexcapades, but I know for a fact that they do some kinky shit, and I can only imagine the makeup bang-session that occurred after a week of the silent treatment.
“Only slightly sore,” she giggles, leaning her head against the back of the couch. “No, we just laid everything on the table and had a long talk about communication. He apologized for walking away without letting me say my piece, and for making me feel like I couldn’t tell him about Wes. I apologized for betraying his trust, and for going behind his back. It felt good, and we both acknowledged that we probably should have had that conversation sooner.”
“No shit, Sherlock,” I reply, offering her a smile in return. “I’m glad you worked through it, though.”
“Me too. I promise everything is going to be okay, Morg, and if it’s not, I know who to call.”
“Damn right you do,” I snort, grateful that she’s not pissed at me for how candid I was. “So, what’s going on with Wes? Is he back in town for good?”
Cass told me a few months ago that Weston was in Atlanta working on some personal stuff, but she was under the impression that it was temporary. So when I ran into him the other day in the ER, I had to do a double take because he was rounding like he was back for good. And while I can’t say that I care for some of the bullshit that the entitled prick has done, we’ve always gotten along well—he’s more likable than Parker at least.
“I honestly don’t know what’s going on. He told me that he left the fellowship back in November, but I had no clue he would come back to Midtown Memorial.”
“Hmmm,” I muse, taking a sip of my wine. “Have y’all talked recently?”
Cassidy sighs. “He’s texted a few times, but I wanted to talk to Parker first.”
“And?”
She purses her lips for a moment before replying, “I mean, he isn’t happy Wes is back, obviously, or that I want to have a friendship with him. But he also understands now that the love between me and Wes is related to my brother and those shared memories, not anything romantic. Or at least, he should because I spent an hour trying to explain that to him last night. ”
She pauses, tracing her fingertip along the rim of her glass.
“I think I’m just going to leave things with Wes alone for a while though. At least until we’re through the wedding.”
I arch my brow at her. “Your mom’s okay with that?”
From what Cass has told me, their families are still super close. I know that her mom was making a push to invite Weston and his parents to the wedding because she didn’t think Parker would care.
She clearly doesn’t know her future son-in-law that well.
“I haven’t told her. I’m just kind of ignoring the issue until we have to send out invitations in April.”
“Oh yeah,” I mutter sarcastically, “because ignoring your problems has worked out so well for you in the past . . .”