Chapter 14
I glance at my watch and smile when Morgan’s burnt-orange hatchback pulls into the lot. She’s ten minutes early. My girl’s trying, and I love it.
I’ve been waiting outside for her like a dog with a friggin’ bone, hoping to steal a kiss and get her all hot and bothered before an hour of yoga.
With fucking Kelsey...
My heart lurches at the other reason I’m waiting outside, wanting to warn Morgan about her. I don’t even know how the girl finds out about my personal life. Probably Jina’s giant mouth, not that my sister realizes what Kelsey does with the info.
It’s my fault anyway, giving her an inch for a single goddamn second. Since then, she’s been doing her damnedest to take the mile.
I let out a long, regret-filled breath.
Maybe John’s right, and I should finally show my sister Kelsey’s true colors. At least Morgan will know here in a few seconds.
Make that a few minutes—she’s parking on the far side of the lot for some reason. Extra steps, maybe?
When she gets out of the car, I jog to meet her halfway. After spending all day thinking about her, I want her in my arms right fucking now. But something’s off—her usual brightness dulled, like someone dimmed the Morgan-Asterman sun. Not even a flicker of a smile.
Worry jolts through me like a static shock. I definitely didn’t leave her like that this morning.
“You okay, baby?” I ask, concern creasing my brow as I finally wrap her in my arms. She melts into me, burying her face in my chest. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“No, not now,” she mumbles, voice muffled against my shirt. “Maybe later. If I can bring myself to even say it.”
Stroking her curls, I push a little. “I said it before, and I’ll say it again. You can tell me anything. I want to be your safe space.”
Morgan inhales deeply, her hold tightening. “I know,” she says on a sigh. “And you are. I’m just…not ready. It’s been a shit day.”
“I understand.” And I mean it. I’ve had plenty of shit days myself.
That being said, the Kelsey conversation can wait. The last thing I want is to add more shit to the pile. And Kelsey’s ongoing campaign to fuck up my love life is a giant piece of shit. Besides, if Jina gave her my warning—sugar-coated or not—she should be on her best, most professional behavior tonight.
My fingers twitch, anxiety spiking. Christ, I hate this.
Not knowing what happened or what will happen. And I hate not being able to fix it even more. It’s all out of my control…and I’m trying to be okay with that. Just like Morgan’s trying to be kinder to herself and manage her time better, one of the many late-night conversations we had between the sheets.
Morgan lets out a long breath, stepping back to look up at me. The slightest smile curls her lips, one I know is forced. What the fuck happened, baby?
“Thanks,” she says, “Just hugging you made everything a little better.”
Channeling my recessive cheeseball gene, I tease, “I’m always the best medicine,” topping it off with a cheeky grin. Works like a charm every time.
Her forced smile widens into a real one—eye-roll included. That sass I’ve grown attached to present again.
She laces her fingers with mine, and the deliberate care in the gesture makes my chest swell. God, this woman.
“Come on,” she says, tugging me along. “Let’s go do awkward stretches and listen to weird, hippy-dippy shit.” She waves a hand overhead, mocking in a mystic tone, “Feel your breath in your fingertips.”
I chuckle, because—same. “If that’s how you feel, why’d you sign up for this class?”
Morgan cringes. “I find it almost impossible to say no to your sister. Why do you think I have this gym membership to begin with?”
I throw my head back, laughing, stepping onto the sidewalk. “Welcome to the club, baby.”
She pokes me in the side as I open the door, but we barely take three steps before she freezes, the genuine smile I created crashing into wide-eyed shock. I follow her line of sight to—
Fucking Kelsey.
“K-Kelsey?” Morgan stammers.
A tall, lean half-Korean, half-Caucasian girl with a high, jet-black ponytail turns at the sound of her name. She’s the textbook definition of conventionally attractive, but her personality suuucks.
Her blue eyes flick to Morgan, a flash of recognition crossing her face. Her gaze then slides to me, mouth breaking into a wide, toothy smile.
“Oh. Em. Gee. Jiho!” Kelsey shrieks, skipping toward us.
She jumps on me, legs around my waist, arms around my neck, the attack too fast to dodge. I hold my arms out like a goddamn tree, turning my face so Morgan sees I want no part of this, mouthing the word, help.
Morgan blinks, then shuffles into Kelsey’s line of sight. “Um, Kelsey? Can you maybe detach from Jiho, please?”
Kelsey’s ponytail smacks me in the face as she whips her head. “Oh. Em. Gee,” she gasps again, this time at Morgan. “Morgan? You’re here too? I didn’t recognize you. You look so…so… different.”
I roll my eyes. She definitely saw Morgan before she saw me. Kelsey Bradshaw—queen of playing dumb. Or maybe just dumb. I’ll go with the latter.
“Thanks?” Morgan replies.
“You’re, like, so welcome, Morgan.”
“For fuck’s sake,” I mutter, my whole body tensing, pissed as fuck, wanting to throw her off of me. But we’re in my sister’s gym—a workplace. I need to stay calm and professional. So instead, I peel her off, saying once her feet hit the ground, “One, if you read the class roster, you’d know she was coming. There aren’t that many Morgan Astermans in the city. And two, did Jina not tell you this is your trial class? If I don’t like it, I’ll pull the plug. Jumping on me? Not a great start.”
Red creeps into her cheeks as she tucks a loose strand behind her ear. “You’re right, I’m sorry. I was just excited to see you. It’s been forever since New Year’s.”
I sneer, hating the mere fucking mention of that night.
“That’s just how she is, Jiho. Happily excited, right Kelsey?” Morgan says in a light tone, surprising the hell out of me.
What the fuck? Why would she defend her, after brazenly climbing me like a fucking tree?
Kelsey nods, eyes darting to my hand as I slide it around Morgan’s waist.
“I’d introduce you two,” I say, “but it seems you already know each other?”
“Yeah,” Morgan says slowly. “She’s Reginald’s stepsister.”
Well fuck me.
“Since when?” blurts out of my mouth. But I roll with it—shocked.
Kelsey lights up, thinking the question is for her. “Like, since eight years ago, silly. My mom went back to Korea to visit her parents and, like, met Reginald’s dad. He was there on business, but,” she clasps her hands together, her face contorting into what I can only describe as swooning Disney princess, “no one can ignore love at first sight.”
Nailed it.
A second later, her face contorts again into…actual thoughts? She points at me, asking, “Wait... You, like, know Reg?”
What do you know? Her two brain cells can actually function.
I shrug. “More or less.”
“And you,” Kelsey continues, her finger shifting to Morgan, “like, know Jiho?”
“Damn straight she does,” I say, moving my arm from Morgan’s waist to around her shoulders. Call it complete arrogance, but I make a show of it, turning her chin toward me and kissing the hell out of her. I want it to say, don’t you fucking try anything.
When I finally pull away, the look on Kelsey’s face says I executed it to perfection. Morgan’s face just reads, subtle.
Kelsey’s finger now gestures between the two of us. “You two are a thing?”
“Yeah, Kels,” Morgan says without hesitation, and it makes me stand a little taller.
“That’s so great,” Kelsey says—too fucking loudly—fake enthusiasm dancing across her features and in her voice. Clapping her hands once, she adds, “I thought you’d never get over Reg. I mean, it’s been, like, so many years. But here you are. With Jiho! It’s just so, so great. Like, so great.” She wraps flailing arms around Morgan, and now I both sneer and cringe. There might be some hand sanitizer in the office…
“It really is great,” Morgan echoes, hands lightly meeting Kelsey’s back. “But how do you know Jiho?”
Kelsey steps back, re-tucking the loose strand. “Jina and I are besties.” Yeah, no they’re not. “We roomed together in college, and I met Jiho when he helped Jina move in freshman year. We’ve been like besties, too, since then, haven’t we, Jiho?”
“No,” I deadpan. God, she’s annoying.
There’s a wide-eyed pause—like a tall, gangly deer in fucking headlights—and then Kelsey fans a hand towards me, laughing. “I’m just kidding. You’re always so serious.”
Morgan’s face softens, a small smile tilting the corner of her mouth. “How have you been, Kels?”
“I’ve been so—”
“Great?” I throw out, and Morgan lightly smacks my chest.
“Be nice,” she scolds, earning a smirk from me. “That’s wonderful to hear. I’m proud of you for getting your yoga instructor certification. I remember you talking about it for a long time.”
Kelsey cocks her head. “Thanks. Wish I could’ve told you sooner.” There’s a hint of genuine hurt in her voice. Were Morgan and Kelsey actually close at one point?
Fuck, Morgan winces. Goddammit Kelsey. “Sorry, Kels. I got a new number…after Reg. I hope you understand.”
“Oh, yeah, totally,” Kelsey feigns, laughing it off. “I’m, like, just happy you’re here.” She glances at her watch. “You two, like, ready to start?” Then looks Morgan up and down. “Let’s go burn some calories!”
Jesus Christ.
Kelsey turns on a heel, and it’s like a fucking switch flips. The space-brained girl vanishes, replaced by a sharp, focused instructor, like she knows she’s got something to prove. I’ve never seen her so adept.
Seriously, she knows her shit about yoga, and her instruction is both clear and easy to follow. Not to mention, her pacing’s perfect.
Dammit. I really wanted a reason to pull the plug.
I had placed my mat next to Morgan’s, not wanting to get a boner halfway through. I’m here to monitor Kelsey’s class, not my girlfriend’s ass—my catchphrase for the night. Regardless, I still find myself looking Morgan’s way every minute or so.
She’s so focused on every single one of the poses, happily allowing Kelsey to correct her form. Which happens to be on every single one of the goddamn poses.
But Morgan responds well, adjusting her stance and remembering the corrections the next time around.
While we’re in prasarita padotton-some-shit, a wide-legged standing forward bend, Kelsey calls to the group in a classic, breathy yogi voice, “Now, this is a beginner class, but if you’re up for a challenge, try this... Slightly bend your right knee and slide your left hand down the outside of your right leg. As you do, rotate your chest to the right, press your inner thighs back, and extend your right arm forward. Hold for three…long…breaths. Good. Other side now and keep switching every three breaths.”
Kelsey prowls through the room, stopping at a few people to correct form, including Morgan, of course—it’s seemingly mandatory at this fucking point. But then she stops at me, and I feel her hands grab my hips, correcting their alignment.
Resisting the urge to swat her hands away—because I’m a professional—I switch on breath number three, turning again towards Morgan, who’s eyeing Kelsey’s hands like a hawk.
Her expression’s unreadable, but I can’t help but feel she’s sensing the exact shit I wanted to talk to her about earlier. Good. It’ll make the conversation easier.
Kelsey’s hands linger too long for my own comfort, and I hate the fact that Morgan’s watching.
So I stand, take a step back, and say, “I need water.”
Kelsey winks, and my stomach churns. “Good idea. In fact, let’s all take a sixty-second water break.” She turns to Morgan, covering her mic. “You’re doing, like, so great.” And then gestures to her feet. “Just remember to ground your feet.” Her hands make a scooping motion as she inhales and then exhales. “Try to feel your breath expand into every cell of your body and use that energy to press against the earth with your toes.”
Morgan nods, quipping, “Right. I’ll be sure to tell my lungs to do just that,” trying her hardest to hide her smile. I fucking love when she does that, and she knows it, too.
Kelsey blinks before chuckling, “Oh, you’re so funny, Morgan. I forgot how much I love your unique sense of humor.”
Morgan and I side-eye each other as Kelsey walks away and quietly crack the fuck up.
***
The rest of the yoga class went by without a hitch, and just as Morgan and I head for the door, Jina calls me into her office. Frustration spikes—I should start wearing a Do Not Fucking Disturb sign when I’m anywhere near my girlfriend.
Kissing Morgan’s temple, I say, “Five minutes, okay, baby?”
Apprehension flashes across her face as her eyes quickly dart to Kelsey and then back to me, but she nods, taking a seat on the bench by the door.
“So?” Jina asks, shutting the office door behind us. “How’d it go? Does she get the Jiho Park Seal of Approval?”
Sighing, I scrub a hand over my face. Professionally speaking, Kelsey’s a shoo-in. Personally, I don’t want to see the girl— like, ever —not to mention this coincidental we-all-know-each-other shit.
But this is my sister’s business, and she’s worked hard to get to this point. Letting my own personal feelings get in the way of her potential profits would be a dick move.
So I admit, “She’s good, I’ll give her that.”
Jina’s hopeful gaze meets mine. “Is that a yes?”
“It’s a maybe.” I glance over my shoulder at Morgan, now being cornered by Kelsey. Fuck. If that girl so much as tells her before I—
“Ugh, really, Oppa? Why?” Jina whines, bringing my attention back to her.
Looking back over my shoulder, Morgan and Kelsey now have their phones out. Kelsey’s smiling like the idiot she is, while Morgan looks…conflicted. I need to get out there.
“A month,” I order quickly. “Let’s see how many people she can bring in and keep in a month, before I say yes.” Morgan’s eyes catch mine—a silent, pleading, please save me— and I mutter, “Look, I got to go.”
Jina calls after me, but I don’t hear it, beelining for Morgan. Grabbing her hand, I usher her out the door—leaving Kelsey mid-sentence.
Morgan doesn’t fight me, which means I sure as hell made the right choice.
“What’d Kelsey say to you?” I ask, curious why it was the right choice.
“She wants to get coffee sometime soon and catch up,” she mumbles, her pinched brows and tone suggesting her frustration. Like she can’t believe she agreed to it. “She also asked me for my new number.”
I give myself ten seconds, holding my breath as anger pulses through me. So much for nothing happening during an hour of yoga. “And did you give it to her?”
“Will you think less of me if I say that I did?”
“There’s nothing you could do to make me think less of you, but I don’t think it’s a good idea. I mean, hell, she’s Reginald’s stepsister.” I inhale to finally tell her the biggest reason it’s a bad idea, but at the mention of her ex’s name, Morgan’s eyes flicker with a sense of panic that wasn’t there before.
She digs in her heels, bringing us to a stop. “I can walk alone from here,” she rushes out. “I don’t want you to have to walk all the way back to your car.” Her brown eyes look anywhere but my face. I think I’ve come to hate that the most—when Morgan Asterman looks at anything other than me. I want her looks, her laugh, her eye-rolls. Everything.
“You know that’s never going to happen, right?” I attempt to pull us another step. “I will always walk you to your car, especially at night.” But she pulls back again.
“I’m serious, Jiho. I want to walk the rest of the way alone,” she says, but her voice gives her away.
There her eyes go, looking straight at her goddamn feet.
Unwillingly, I unlace our fingers, planting both hands on each side of her face. She tries to squirm out of my hold, but I squish her cheeks, forcing her eyes on me. “Exclusive rights. Tell me everything, including why you had a shit day and want to be alone.”
She blinks a few times, looking like the cutest little chipmunk, and it takes everything in me not to crack a smile.
Then, in a small, shaken voice, she squeaks, “Reginald evicted me.”
Well fuck me a second time.
Did I hear that right? “What do you mean, baby?”
“Reginald evicted me,” she repeats, blinking…back tears. Fuck. One escapes, my thumb brushing it away.
And just like that, Kelsey’s off the board again. There’s no way in hell I’m adding to her tears.
Goddammit. This isn’t good. I’ve pushed the conversation aside twice now, and I have a feeling it’s going to bite me in the ass. Morgan knowing Kelsey’s the fucking shoe on the ground, and now I’m waiting for the other one to fall out of the sky and hit me on the head.
Seeing nothing but red, my hands drop from her face, curling into fists at my sides, ignoring the sting in my knuckles. Gritting my teeth, I growl, “But, in order to evict you, he has to be your—”
“Landlord,” she cuts in. “Which he is. Well, was.”
I run a hand over my jaw, wishing I’d punched the bastard into oblivion. Next time I see him, I most definitely will. “Did the fucker give you a reason?”
“Um,” she starts nervously, eyes darting to my knuckles. Her voice drops into a whisper. “Retaliation.”
The single word slams into me, a flood of fucking guilt replacing the anger, my vision clearing. The bastard left her homeless, and I’m the goddamn reason.
Frantically, self-loathingly, I run a hand through my hair, not knowing what else to do. “I’m sorry, baby. It’s my fucking fault.”
“I don’t blame you.”
“You should.”
“Well, I don’t,” she rasps, quiet but firm. “Reginald has always been an asshole, Jiho. Chances are, he would’ve done the exact same thing had you not punched him. There’s more to it, anyway.” Glancing around us again, she adds, “Which I’d rather not tell in the middle of a parking lot. Besides, I need to find a place to stay. He only gave me enough time to pack a suitcase before I had to come here.”
“And the rest of your stuff?” I ask, anger resurfacing. Maybe she should stop talking before I lose control, find the prick, and teach him a lesson his mommy and daddy clearly fucking failed to do.
“He gifted me with eight whole hours on Saturday to pack it all up.”
“How fucking generous,” I grumble.
Morgan sighs, “Yeah,” exhaustion shrouding the honey in her eyes. “I’m sorry, but I need to go. I need to find a hotel or call my parents or Michelle or…something.”
“Fuck that. You’re staying with me,” I blurt before I can even think. Call me crazy all you want, but three months with Morgan warming my bed sounds pretty damn nice.
She must be calling me crazy, too, because her eyebrows shoot to the night sky. “You want me to move in with you?” This bemused look of hers is new—cute. I like it. “Jiho, we’ve been dating for literally three days.”
“And?”
“And you still barely know anything about me. What if you hate the way I live? Your lifestyle is immaculate, while mine is very…lived-in. What was it you said after reading that article about colors? I’m sunshine with a touch of…?”
I smile, wanting to calm her, my hand finding her cheek. All the anger and guilt morphs into blatant anticipation, my heart beating like I just ran a marathon instead of doing yoga. Fuck, I want this— her. In my home. How do I make her say yes?
“Chaos, baby,” I answer. “But a little chaos in my day-to-day life would be good for me. And what better way to get to know you, than seeing you every day until you get on that plane?”
In an instant, my racing heart stutters. I hate thinking about her leaving. In all honesty, I try my best not to think about it, but it’s always there, lingering in the back of my mind.
But I have to let her go when that time comes—it’s the right thing to do. We both know this whole thing has a pending expiration date, unless Morgan says otherwise. Or, unless I grow the damn balls to ask her to keep me. Keep us.
If not, she’ll find a new life—and probably a new man—in Korea, and I’ll have to find a Korean woman. All thanks to an old Korean man. If he weren’t my grandfather, I’d have told him to fuck off already. I’ve certainly thought the words before, in more ways than one. But with this anger simmering under my skin, I wouldn’t be surprised if one day I finally say them out loud.
But until then—until the second Morgan walks on that plane or my proverbial balls drop—she’s mine. And I like to keep what’s mine as close as possible.
I edge closer, her eyes darting to her car, then to me. Car, then me. Tentative. Uncertain. But before her decision settles, my arms pull her in, straight through that hesitation.
Tilting her chin higher, lips closer, I say, “Besides, baby, think of all the fun we’ll get to have.”
Her gaze drops to my mouth, and I know she’s convinced the moment her teeth sink into her full bottom lip. “Promise?”
I release her face just long enough to sign an X over my heart. “Cross my heart.”
She smiles—a real one, thank God—and a bit of her light returns to her face. “Then let’s go home, Jiho.”