Chapter Fifteen
Liam
I wasn’t sure how I ended up alone in the living room with Morgan, but I didn’t mind.
She looked gorgeous tonight, her sexy red dress outlining her breasts in a way that made my mouth water.
It wasn’t too revealing for a family dinner, but the hem fell to mid-thigh, allowing me to enjoy the sight of her long legs on display.
The living room was large, with a vaulted ceiling and a stone fireplace where two armchairs sat. The couch was cream-colored suede, and there was a toybox in the corner of the room that I was sure was stuffed with Gracie’s toys.
Morgan moved to the large window, pulling aside the heavy blue curtain to look outside.
I strolled to the fireplace, where a curved wooden mantle held a collection of framed pictures.
My eyes caught on a photo of a little girl that was unmistakably Morgan.
Her green eyes shone as she smiled, revealing an adorable gap in her front teeth.
In another photo, she looked a little older, but was still young and standing next to a woman with a similar figure to the Morgan that I knew. They also had the same mahogany hair.
“Is this your mother?” I asked as she came to stand next to me.
“Yes.” She picked up a different picture, one that showed her in a birthday hat while sitting in front of a cake, and both of her parents were standing behind her. The candle revealed it was her seventh birthday. “She was pretty, wasn’t she?”
I didn’t miss the tender nostalgia in her voice. “Yeah,” I said honestly. They shared many of the same striking features that shaped Morgan’s own beauty.
“She died when I was eight,” she said, tracing a finger over her mom’s face in the photograph, her touch reverent.
“That must have been hard.”
“You have no idea.” She put the picture back on the mantle.
“I didn’t even have a firm concept of death at that age.
No one else in my life had ever died before.
So, even though she was sick for a while before she went, it was tough to grasp that she was gone forever.
I needed her, you know? She was my everything.
I mean, I’ve always been close to my dad too, but it’s different with a girl and her mom. ”
The pain in her voice made my chest tighten. Without thinking, I took her hand, grounding her as we both looked at the row of photos stretching across the mantle. Time changed frame by frame, first just her and her father, then Faith and Parker appeared, woven into their story and lives.
“There are a lot of pictures of you with Parker,” I observed, nodding toward one of them riding horses together, their grins wide and carefree.
She smiled, her eyes warming as she focused on the image.
“He was four years older than me, a teenager when our parents got married, and I wasn’t sure if he’d want me around much, but he turned out to be the best brother ever.
Right from the beginning, we were close.
Even before I developed a close relationship with Faith.
I think that having Parker in my life helped me to get past my mom’s death more than anything else. ”
“I get that. My brothers are my best friends. They’ve been there for me through so much,” I said, sharing something about myself as well since she just opened up to me so completely.
I nodded to a picture of her farther down the mantle. She was wearing a cap and gown and standing between two people. On one side, I recognized Whitney. On the other, there was a man with dimples in his cheeks, his arm slung casually around her shoulders.
“Who is that guy?” I asked her.
Her hand dropped from mine. “Just an old friend.” Her tone cooled, and she moved away from the fireplace, heading for the couch and sitting down. “I have no idea why Faith still displays that picture,” she muttered beneath her breath.
I followed, settling in beside her, curious about the sudden shift in her demeanor and the hint of annoyance I’d detected in her tone. She’d been so open about her mom, sharing those emotional memories without hesitation. This evasiveness felt…deliberate.
“What kind of old friend are we talking about here?” I pressed gently.
She sighed, leaning back against the couch cushions while her fingers fidgeted in her lap. “Trust me, he isn’t worth talking about.”
I smiled at Morgan, realizing I wanted to know everything about her, and the fact that she didn’t want to talk about this friend told me there was more there than she was letting on. “Indulge me.”
She met my gaze, hesitating a moment. I waited patiently, and she finally exhaled a deep breath and opened up to me.
“The short story is, his name is James. I was crazy about him in college. I thought I loved him, but he didn’t feel the same.
” Her words came out measured, but a shadow of old hurt clouded her expression.
“What happened?” I asked, sensing there was more.
A faint, wry smile pulled at her lips, though it didn’t reach her eyes.
“We spent months together. Late nights studying, long conversations that felt so real, and shared the kind of intimacy that made me believe it meant something.” Her cheeks flushed slightly, but she pushed on.
“I fell hard for him. He told me he wasn’t looking for anything serious, but I thought if I waited long enough…
well, it never happened. I was nothing more than an easy hookup for him.
He broke things off right after graduation, then met someone else.
Fell in love with her in weeks. Suddenly, he was ready for serious. Just not…with me.”
The pain I heard in her voice made my gut clench. “Morgan—”
She shook her head and cut me off. “It’s okay. I’m over him, but the whole situation…it just made me cautious with men and their motives after James. It taught me a lesson, not to chase after someone who doesn’t feel the same.”
Her words hung there between us, honest and unflinching, and somewhere deep in my chest guilt twisted hard as I realized just how badly my own actions had affected Morgan the night I’d left her in the hotel room.
I wanted to reach out and touch her, but I could hear the rest of her family nearby and knew it wasn’t the time or the place.
As I processed her words, all I could think was, fuck, I did that to her, too. I’d been the guy who took the connection, the intimacy, the night that meant something, and then disappeared. I hadn’t meant to intentionally hurt her, but I had and now I knew just how deeply.
So many regrets hit me hard. “I’m sorry you went through that with James,” I said, my voice low and laced with sincerity as I held her gaze.
“And it kills me to think I might have made you feel that way, too, after the night we spent together. Leaving you the way I did, I was dealing with my own issues, but it was wrong. I played right into those insecurities and I hate that I did.”
Her expression softened, a flicker of surprise widening her eyes. “Liam—”
I shook my head, not finished yet. “I didn’t leave you that night because I didn’t care,” I said, knowing she deserved the truth.
“I left because I panicked. I hadn’t dealt with my own shit yet.
Not with Ivy, not with what that breakup did to me.
I wasn’t looking for anything real and what I felt for you in one night scared the hell out of me. ”
“Thank you for saying that,” she whispered.
Relief eased the tightness that had gathered in my chest. “I never want to make you feel that way ever again. Like you’re not enough. Because Morgan, you’re more than enough. I know we’ve been taking this slow, but I need you to know that this isn’t casual for me. You’re not casual for me.”
Her breath caught, her eyes went wide and bright, hope warring in their depths. “You’re not casual for me, either.”
The admission hung between us, honest and a little terrifying, but it shifted something profound between us, like yet another barrier crumbling. Without thinking, I leaned in, my hand lifting to cup her cheek as the promise of a kiss hung in the space between us.
Until the sound of giggles erupted from the hallway, and seconds later Gracie ran into the living room, reminding us both of where we were.