Chapter 40
Rory
Morgan and Grandma take turns at my bedside and I sleep away most of the day fitfully. Sometimes I wake up and Grandma’s in the chair by the bed, dozing, her hands on her cane. Sometimes I wake up and it’s Morgan in here with me, his head resting on our entwined fingers, while he sleeps.
I obsessively touch the hole in my gum where the tooth has gone missing. It doesn’t hurt—I’m on painkillers that take care of that—but I can’t stop, my tongue wanting to fill the gap in my teeth.
I have to have a consultation for a dental implant. I guess I could use this as an excuse to fix my teeth, like the dentist suggested so long ago. Maybe, when I get the implant, they can do something about the other tooth too, and I won’t have this smile anymore.
Do I want that?
Morgan’s soft breaths blow down the length of my forearm and I gaze down at him. I fade in and out of sleep thinking about every time Morgan called me gorgeous.
I know exactly what my ex would say, if I cared about her opinion. But I do care about Morgan’s, and my heart knows that he would want whatever I want.
The police come back and talking to them wakes me up fully. I tell them about the hand brake going missing, the panic I felt when I could barely slow down in time to make the corner. Morgan squeezes my hand.
“Oh, the dashcam!” I remember.
“Yes, we recovered the SD card. Now that we know about the brakes, we’ll make sure to check the footage before the incident, see if anything comes up. Is there anything else you can remember?”
I shake my head.
“I have their contact information if you think of anything,” Morgan adds. He’s still next to me, having woken up when the cops came in and listened to my version.
The police nod and shuffle out, leaving me, Morgan, and Grandma alone.
“Well,” Grandma says, and taps her cane on the floor. She looks at me, then at Morgan, then back at me. “I think I’ll wander down to the cafeteria and grab something to eat,” she says, even though we ate just before the cops came.
Morgan and I are alone, and even through the drowsiness and the painkillers, I feel butterflies take up space in my stomach. He’s leaning against the bed, his chin on his forearm as he looks up at me.
“How are you feeling?” he asks.
“I love you,” I blurt out instead. I don’t know why I’m so nervous. Morgan has said everything except he loves me, and after reading my grandmother’s emails showing his efforts to get us to stay, to make us belong Here, I’m pretty sure he loves me too.
But pretty sure isn’t knowing.
His smile blooms, curling his lips until it’s megawatt.
“That’s what I was coming to tell you.”
He sits up on his elbows. “Man, I wish you’d made it. It would have been the best day of my life.” He wrinkles his nose. “I can’t exactly say this one is, with you in the hospital and all.”
“I wish I had too.”
“I love you too, my queen. Of course I love you. I probably fell in love with you the first time you rolled your eyes at me.”
I do it right now, and he laughs. I smile back, until I remember about my tooth.
“Don’t, gorgeous,” he admonishes me. “Don’t worry about that now. Not when I love you so much. Because someday your teeth will fall out for other reasons and we’ll have to get you dentures and I’ll still fucking love you with all my heart.”
My smile’s back. “Surely not all your heart. There’s gotta be room for Princess.”
“And Barty. And Kit and Hunter, and, well . . . all the Herevians. And your grandmother.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Really? My grandmother?”
He grins. “Even that crotchety old lady.”
“I heard that!” Grandma shouts from the hallway.
Morgan straightens. “Sorry, Mrs. Patterson.”
“You can call me Valerie now. Or Grandma.”
Morgan’s whole face brightens, pleasure radiating from him. “Okay!”
He settles back down again. “Will you move back in with me?”
I push my head back into the pillow. “Yes. But ugh, I won’t be able to work for a while.”
“We’ll make it work.”
Morgan’s words have so much conviction to them.
He doesn’t even know how much money I have saved up or that I’ll likely be able to switch to a remote office job in the meantime.
“There is one thing, though,” I add. “I’m not sure I want to get married.
I’ve never really pictured myself doing the whole white dress, wedding ceremony thing.
If our engagement had been real, I would have been serious about the elopement thing. ”
Morgan exaggerates a sigh. “I do have bad news on that front, too. I sold the ring.” He grimaces. “Now I regret it . . .”
“Don’t,” I say. “The lodge means more to you, I know that. And also, while it was a gorgeous ring, I, uh . . . didn’t like wearing it?” My voice ends on a high note, and I hope I’m not offending him.
“Oh.” He blinks. His gaze shifts to the right for a moment, and then returns to me. “So, hypothetically speaking, if we did elope one day—no ceremony, just an officiant and a witness—”
There’s a throat clearing from the hallway.
“Maybe a very well-behaved octogenarian witness,” Morgan raises his voice, not that Grandma’s having a hard time hearing us. “What kind of ring would you want?”
I’m grinning. It hurts. I don’t care. “Well, maybe two rings—”
“Two rings?” he asks with mock incredulity.
“One silicone so that I can wear it while I’m working.”
“Smart.”
“And one small band.”
“No diamond?”
“No diamond,” I confirm.
“Gold? Silver? Platinum?”
“Gold,” I decide. “Maybe engraved?”
“Romantic.”
“Shut up.”
“Make me.”
One little tug is all it takes, and Morgan rises up to gently kiss my battered—but happy—smile.