Chapter 6
Kimberly
“The guilt is eating me alive,” I groan, my eyes closing. My stomach is literally in knots, and it’s taking everything inside me not to just give up the ghost on this. This is mean, at its base level. I’ve been a mother for a long time, and tried to never lie to my children.
Now I’m doing it on purpose.
Morgan’s hands pause, his thumb pressing into the arch of my left foot. “Do you want to call it off? We could send the kids a text, saying things are good here and that we hope they’re having a good night too. No need to confess anything, just a simple check-in.”
I consider it. Doing so would ease my conscience.
I’m not averse to a bit of strategic manipulation when the situation calls for it…
outside the family. I wouldn’t have made it at Morgan’s side while he built Andrews to the monster it’s become if I wasn’t capable of layered subtexts, master chess moves, and calculations through pleasant conversations.
But this is different. It’s our children.
“Maybe,” I drawl out uncertainly.
Morgan looks deep into my eyes, still every bit the man I fell in love with so long ago, but also more after so much life lived together. “Your call.”
Karl clears his throat, drawing our attention to the doorway. “Excuse me,” he says, “but Ross just punched in his code at the front gate. On the cameras, it looks like he, Courtney, and Abi are all here.”
“Oh my goodness,” I exclaim, jumping up from the couch in Morgan’s office where we settled after dinner, he with a scotch and me with a chamomile tea.
“Last chance, though I have to say, it seems to have worked,” Morgan says, seeming pleased if not a bit surprised at our quick success in drawing the children home.
I swat at his bicep. “Quit grinning or they’ll know right away.”
He grins even wider. That’s Morgan, the parent who enjoyed the Halloween pranks, the gag gifts at Christmas, or other playful things that added spice to our family life. “That’s my girl. Seeing things through to the end.”
“Hopefully, not the bitter end,” I counter, still not certain we’re doing the right thing.
“If I may,” Karl interrupts, “perhaps you should take your tea downstairs to the guest room?”
I point a finger at him. “Great idea. Remind me to never doubt your deviousness.” I start to hurry away, but Morgan pulls me back, pressing a quick kiss to my lips.
“Play your part and I’ll play mine. And we can play make-up later.” He wiggles his brows at me, flirting even now.
“You’re the worst,” I admonish him.
“You mean, the best,” he corrects.
As quickly and carefully as I can, I rush downstairs and practically leap into the guest room bed, curling up against the mountain of white pillows that haven’t been disturbed in months.
Karl almost keeps up with me, but at his age, I’m not surprised I beat him here. What does surprise me is when he appears in the doorway and tosses a book at me. “Act like you’re reading.”
I smile conspiratorially. “Devious.” As he disappears once again to answer the doorbell, I flip open the book to a random page.
Pride and Prejudice? It’s been ages since I’ve read this, but I let my eyes scan the book as if I’m thoroughly engrossed in it, just in case one of the kids comes to find me.