Chapter Seventeen
Time was a funny thing. Often times, Morgan had lost herself in marathon surgeries, where hours had seemed to vanish in the blink of an eye. At other times, it dragged on interminably, as if the world was slogging through quicksand, every second a struggle against the relentless pull of inertia.
The past two weeks, however, had gone by in a flash.
Morgan had spent much of it sifting through the chaos of her life.
She was busy unpacking long-ignored boxes, making calls to old colleagues to assure them she hadn’t fallen off the face of the earth, and spending time with Tessa and her new puppy.
He was definitely the cutest rescue mix she’d ever seen.
His name was Hank, and he wore a bright pink collar.
Even her sessions with Dr. Henry were evolving.
The sessions were becoming less about skirting around the issues and more about diving deep into what made up Morgan.
She had even shared a story with the doctor just yesterday about how her mother, in her usual passive-aggressive style, had sent Morgan a fancy pearl dress to wear to one of her award ceremonies.
Instead, Morgan had shown up wearing all-black with her hair pink-tipped, thanks to excessive bleaching with a lot of help from Tessa.
But most importantly Morgan had allowed herself to be swept up in Sydney’s string of activities—Breakfast at Café Carmel, browsing art galleries though neither had an eye for art, collecting seashells at Monastery Beach, and an impromptu wine tasting at Calla Bella Vineyards where Mikaela had treated them to a chocolate and wine pairing.
Morgan loved spending time with Sydney, more so than she ever thought possible.
Not only was Sydney undeniably fun, ridiculously attractive, and constantly stirring butterflies in Morgan’s stomach, but she also had a way of blanking Morgan’s mind from all those bad things.
At least for a few moments, she made her forget about the thoughts of a ruined career and of a dead patient.
The doorbell rang.
Morgan scooped up her cream cashmere sweater, grabbed her sling bag from the coffee table and waltzed to the small foyer before she threw open the door.
“You’re five minutes early.” Morgan smiled, one that turned into a grin when Sydney stepped into her space. She wrapped her arms around Morgan’s waist.
“You know me, I’m incredibly impatient,” Sydney said softly, her mouth inches from Morgan’s.
She angled her face and lightly brushed her lips against Morgan’s.
She did it again and again, until Morgan found the energy needed to move her palms up to Sydney’s cheeks, pulling her back for a deeper kiss.
Lips collided, tongues slipping in like silk.
For a long while, they just stood there, kissing in the doorway, until their lips felt cracked.
Morgan’s mind was blissfully blank. It wasn’t until she became sharply aware that they were out in public and not in the safe confines of her house that she pulled back slightly.
A local dog walker had just strolled by, and over Sydney’s lovely head, Morgan caught sight of three wagging tails disappearing down the sidewalk.
“You know we can just skip whatever you planned and go upstairs,” she said, breaking the kiss completely. “It’s been a while.”
Even though they’d been spending a ton of time together, there hadn’t been any major long, drawn-out sex sessions.
Only fantastic make-out sessions which had generally led to Morgan abruptly ending it by announcing she had to leave.
The last time they had slept together was after the market.
Not because Morgan didn’t want to. She really did.
It was more so because sex had never been just casual for her.
She had tried the whole fling thing and hated it.
If she was going to give a part of herself to someone, she might as well do it properly.
That was the problem, though. She’d spent most of her adult life keeping herself to herself.
She’d built up walls and remained perfectly content behind them, where nothing and no one could touch her.
But with Sydney, something had shifted. The woman meant something to Morgan. She wasn’t exactly sure what it was yet. Love? Lust? A messy yet beautiful combination of both? Whatever it was, she knew it was significant.
“As tempting as that sounds, I’ve planned the best date in the world, and it will be a crime not to see it through,” Sydney said, shaking her head and stepping away from Morgan, leaving her cold even when the afternoon sun was shining pleasantly on her skin.
“Who says this is a date?” Morgan teased.
Sydney laughed out loud and then looked unsure of herself. “Is this not a date?”
Was it possible for someone to look any more adorable? Or be any more adorable? Everything about Sydney—her stone linen dress, her sandy locks swept up in a bun above her head, and the bevy of golden hoops adorning her ears—was stunning.
Morgan didn’t seem to think so. Frankly, she couldn’t remember ever being so enamored by another person. Ever.
She tugged Sydney closer for one more kiss, this one lasting only half as long, and then gave up on the possibility of sex. At least for now. “You’re right, it’s a date.”
Sydney sighed, her breath blowing warm against Morgan’s chin. “I knew it.”
It wasn’t much later that the two were sitting on the soft sand of Carmel Beach; the sky beginning to blush with soft streaks of pink and gold across the horizon.
“What’s in the bag?” Morgan asked, pointing to the suspicious leather duffel bag Sydney had slogged along their half-mile walk on the beach to the spot they were sitting now.
Sydney didn’t say anything at first. She only moved onto her knees and reached for the bag, which was moderately heavy. She tugged at the zipper.
The first thing Sydney pulled from it was a small easel, followed by another.
By the time two blank rectangular canvases were set on the picnic mat, followed by a palette splattered with an assortment of old paint, Morgan raised a brow.
“I’m going to take a wild guess and say we’re painting something. ”
“Right, you are,” Sydney replied.
“I can’t paint.”
“You’ve got the hands of a surgeon. Which means you’re bound to be good at this,” Sydney said, pulling out tubes of paint.
“I’m pretty sure no one’s ever said ‘doctor’ and ‘artist’ in the same breath without laughing.”
“You’re a doctor who might just be an artist. There, I said it.” Sydney smiled and dug a hand back into the duffel. This time, she brought out a silver flask and two plastic cups, one of which she handed to Morgan. “Chilled red wine to get us in the mood.”
“Isn’t it illegal to drink alcohol on a public beach?”
Sydney nodded. “Who says we’re drinking alcohol?” She lifted the flask and gave it a shake, the contents sloshing. “As far as anyone knows, this is just grape juice.”
“Grape juice?” Morgan laughed. “Fine. You’ve convinced me.” She watched the dark red liquid being poured into the plastic cup and waited for Sydney to fill up hers as well before the two clinked their plastic cups together. “So, what are we painting? Hopefully not a self-portrait.”
“The ocean,” Sydney said, flourishing her hand in its direction. “That’s why we’re here. At the beach. To paint the sea at sunset.” She then winked. “Romantic, isn’t it?”
Morgan wouldn’t exactly call forced participation in a sort of art class a romantic experience.
But this was probably the sweetest thing anyone had ever done for her in her life.
Well, aside from Tessa asking her to be her date for their senior formal after Morgan had just come out and couldn’t get a date anywhere.
“It’s wonderful,” Morgan said and meant it. She found Sydney’s free hand and squeezed hard. “Thank you.”
For a second, Morgan wasn’t entirely sure if she was thanking Sydney for the sunset date or for everything else.
The list was endless of Sydney subtly forcing her to go for coffee at Stella’s, inviting her camping, pushing her out of her comfort zone, or for everything else that had happened since.
Not that it mattered, because no combination of words could really capture just how much she was starting to care about Sydney.
So much, in fact, that Morgan wasn’t sure she’d ever admit her feelings out loud. Caring about someone, truly loving someone, was like handing them a loaded shotgun and hoping they didn’t aim for the heart.
“Let’s get started before the sun sets and I can’t see what I’m doing,” Morgan said when Sydney did nothing except stare at her mouth, probably wondering if it was the appropriate place for a kiss.
At least that was exactly what Morgan was pondering, so she figured Sydney was thinking the same.
A kiss on the beach. Now that was romantic.
While the waves lazily lapped the shore, and a couple with a seemingly new puppy strolled by, Morgan dipped her brush into the paint and tried not to think about anything at all, except, of course, the ocean she was trying to paint.
It turned out to be easier than expected. Blues, grays, and browns were smudged on Morgan’s canvas. Meanwhile, Sydney was on a different wavelength altogether. She was busy dipping her brush into a riot of colors and dragging carefree strokes across her canvas.
Out of the corner of Morgan’s eye, she could see pinks swirling into purples with splashes of orange bleeding into what she assumed was the horizon. It was a colorful mess. Bold and daring and utterly Sydney-esque.
Morgan’s approach, on the other hand, was methodical, precise, and almost surgical. By the end, the beach on her canvas resembled something closer to an MRI scan than a sunset.
“Mine looks like a tie-dye shirt had a baby with a sunset,” Sydney finally said after time had melted into a comfortable stretch, the seconds blending into minutes. She tilted her head and squinted at her own work. “I think I should probably stick to firefighting.”
Morgan leaned over and gave the painting a good look. Sydney’s description was completely accurate. “It’s… very abstract,” she commented, holding back a laugh. “It’s very in these days, isn’t it?”
“An impressionistic sun blob,” Sydney said. Her face was momentarily serious before she burst into a laugh and fell back onto the mat, arms and legs splayed like a star. “At least yours actually looks like the ocean. How did you get the horizon that straight without a ruler?”
“Years of steady hands,” Morgan said with a grin as she shifted toward Sydney.
Morgan had always found the idea of public displays of affection somewhat amusing, never quite understanding why couples would kiss in public when they had perfectly good bedrooms for that.
To her surprise, she climbed on top of Sydney, settling her hips perfectly between Sydney’s.
“This is nice.” Sydney smiled, wrapping her arms around Morgan’s waist and pulling her even closer until no space existed between their bodies.
If they were in a bed on a chilly night, Morgan would find a blanket and cocoon them inside, shutting out the world, believing they were the last two people to exist. But here, with the sky darkening and the beach open, they had to remain civil with clothes on, bodies still, or risk being kicked off the beach.
Sydney’s hands skidded along Morgan’s sides until they reached her hips and stayed there, only for a minute. She slipped her fingers beneath Morgan’s blouse and ran her palms up and down her spine.
They didn’t kiss.
They only gazed at each other. Both were grinning, and both were feeling utterly at ease.
“How about we do something fun tomorrow?” Sydney suggested, leaning in so her nose brushed lightly against Morgan’s.
“Tomorrow?” Morgan asked, smiling at the way her curls curtained Sydney’s lovely face. “It’s Thursday tomorrow. Are you taking another vacation day?”
“Yup. I’ve got two left, and I’ve decided I want to spend them all with you.”
“I’m flattered.”
“As you should be,” Sydney spoke, softer now, her breath warm against Morgan’s skin.
All it took was for one of them to make the first move, to bring their lips together. Though neither did, and there was something fun in that. It was like a sexy game of who will blink first.
“I could’ve taken them all at once,” Sydney went on, her golden eyes darker now that the sun had disappeared. “Could have sailed off to Greece or something. You know, I’ve always fantasized about some wealthy woman with a yacht begging me to join her.”
“There’s still a chance.”
“You own a yacht?” Sydney joked, her body shaking beneath Morgan as she laughed. “Because if you do, we can go right now. Maybe sail across the world.”
“I get terribly seasick,” Morgan said. “I’ll be in the bathroom with my head in the toilet the entire time.”
“How about a drive, then?” Sydney suggested. “We can go along Highway 1, see the cypress forests and the craggy coastline of Carmel Highlands.”
“Tonight?”
The only place Morgan wanted to go tonight was back home, to her bedroom, to the king-sized extra-length bed, with Sydney in tow.
“Tomorrow. We can see where the wind takes us.”
“Where the wind takes us?” Morgan raised a single brow. “You mean to go on a drive for fun, with no destination in mind?”
“Yes.”
“Sounds pointless.”
“Do you mean perfect?” Sydney quipped and winked. “Just think about it. We can even stay somewhere overnight. Maybe rent a little cabin somewhere along the coast.”
“Just a drive,” Morgan replied, feeling just a twinge of apprehension. The idea was so perfect, so idyllic, that she just couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that something was bound to go wrong. It always did, especially when it was least expected.
This was too perfect. Too good.
The universe had a way of balancing out the scales. Morgan just didn’t know when.