Chapter 28 It’s from America #2
“It’s from America.” She works her teeth into her nails as she bobs up and down on the balls of her feet.
“America?” I begin, slipping the paper from the brown envelope.
“Yeah. One of Sarah’s friends works there.
I emailed him after I saw you with that woman.
Catherine.” She shakes her head. “It came today so it couldn’t have been anything to do with my email.
But they said in their reply that they liked what they heard.
” Sucking in a breath, she shakes her hands in front of her.
“Slow down,” I try to tell her, brimming with pride, my chest constricting. This right here, this is the girl I remember.
“Sorry.” She swallows. “I emailed them my work after I thought you were… I don’t know. Anyway, they’ve emailed me back and asked if I had received a letter yet. And it literally came today.”
“This letter?” I happily open it up. “What does it say?”
Morgan shakes her head, hands threading into her hair. “I don’t know. I’ve been too nervous to read it.”
“What?”
She steps closer but leaves some space between us. “I wanted you to read it with me.”
My chest tightens. “Why?”
There’s humour in her voice. “Because if I hadn’t been mad at you, I never would have been brave enough to do something like that.”
I rub the back of my head, still smiling. “That’s twisted logic.”
Her eyebrows raise. “It makes sense to me,” she laughs. “Oh, will you just open it?”
I open the letter and read it out. “Dear Morgan Brooks, following a recent discussion with Sarah Caldwell,” I hear Morgan gasp, “I am pleased to submit a proposal for editorial services of your work. My team and I read your work… Read your work?” I look at her, confused.
“But you said you emailed them yesterday?”
“Sarah.” One hand slaps to her head. “She read one of my poems ages ago. She must have remembered it. She must have called or emailed her friend, thinking I wouldn’t.”
I take a deep breath, smiling on the inside at how much Sarah has done without Morgan’s knowledge.
“Go on,” Morgan ushers me, hands squeezing together against her chest.
“Sorry.” I clear my throat. “Right… Read your work and believe we have extensive experience in the editing and printing services and are confident that we would be able to help you get your work to print. Holy fuck, Morgan.”
“Oh. My. God.” Unexpectedly, Morgan jumps into my arms, and I’m guilty of pulling her closer to me, stealing a deep inhale of her hair as she nestles her face into my neck.
This fucking feeling.
I could drown in her.
“Is this real?” Emotion cracks in her voice.
“Really real.”
She hugs me tighter. “Paddy? Can you believe it? Me? Getting my work printed?”
“I’m so fucking happy for you, curly fries.” My hand slips into the back of her hair, my fingers scrunching tight as I look deep into her ocean eyes. It’s my new favourite colour. Especially when it’s as bright as the one looking at me like I’m the best thing since sliced bread.
“I’m happy for me too,” she says, cupping my face with her hands. “I couldn’t have done this without you, Paddy.”
“This is all on you. And maybe Sarah.”
Her lips curl up. “Yeah, I think I need to call her. I haven’t spoken to her since last night.”
A deep rumble erupts from my chest. “Trust me, I spoke to Danny. She had a good night.”
Morgan chuckles. “I dread to think what that means.” Then she muses to herself as she looks down at me. “You think I should go for it?”
Pulling her face to mine, I whisper against her lips, “I think you should absolutely go for it.” And I kiss her gently, tentatively, soaking up the moment like it’s the first time all over again. “I’m taking you away,” I mutter against her lips.
“Where?” Her body squirms against mine, making me instantly semi-hard.
“It’s a surprise.”
Kiss.
“When do we go?”
I know I have to see Tom this weekend. “Next Friday?”
Kiss.
“It’s a date,” she says, stealing one last kiss before sliding her body down my front.
Jesus Christ.
“Are you okay?” she asks gently.
“I just need a minute before we go back inside.” I look up thinking of anything other than the girl now sinking her teeth into her bottom lip as she smiles widely at me. “And I’m going to need you to stop doing that.”
She giggles. “Sorry.”
“So, no one else knows?”
Her head swings side to side. “Only you, Paddy O’Keefe.”
And that right there is all I needed to hear. “Time to celebrate then, curly fries. Come on, I have something for you.” Grabbing her hand, I drag her back inside, past the prying rabble and into my room.
“What are you doing?” she asks, a little taken aback.
I pull the giant box from underneath the bed. “Here.” I hold it out to her.
Curious eyes search me. “What is it?”
“Open it.” I smile as she takes it.
“It’s heavy.” She drops it carefully to the bed and pulls one end open.
“Been wanting you to have this for months.”
“Months?” She laughs, pulling out the polystyrene.
“One part needed shipping in.”
Morgan’s breath hitches when she pulls out her old typewriter. “Paddy?” She stares at it before turning to me. Her glassy eyes widen, and a smile slowly blooms in wonder. “Is this mine?”
“Yeah, curly fries. Fully restored.”
Mouth open wide in amazement, Morgan stares at the old machine now in her hands. “How did you fix it?”
“I know a guy in London. Picked it up off your dad around your birthday.”
Her eyes meet mine. “He gave it to you?”
My lips pinch. “Um, no. Actually, it was your mum who handed it over.”
She laughs, and it’s like music to my ears. “I can’t believe you did this.” She takes a moment simply taking in the typewriter she used to love using. “This means so much.”
“I know it does. That’s why I wanted you to have it working again. Pretty good timing, don’t you think?”
“You can say that again.” Placing it on the bed, she stands straight before taking my face in her hands. My world lights up, and time holds its breath with me as I take her in. “Thank you.”
“Anytime, curly fries.”
She grins before pressing her soft lips to mine. “Now we celebrate.”