Chapter Eighteen
“I’m so proud of you,” Sydney mused, glancing over to Morgan sitting in the passenger seat. She was wearing faded jeans, a light brown blouse, and loafers. Her curls were just as wild as ever. “You brought only one bag this time.”
Morgan wrinkled her nose. “Ha. Ha.” Then she slipped on her sunglasses and leaned back into the seat. “You had a very clear packing list, Sydney. Although, I’m not sure why I’ll need two evening outfits when we’re only going away for one night.”
“You never know,” Sydney said, peeling the Jeep from the curb. “Maybe your toothpaste explodes all over your bag and ruins outfit number one. It’s always good to have a backup.”
The real reason was spontaneity. Sydney had already convinced Morgan to spend one night away from home, so why not make it two?
Although, persuading her to agree to just one night away had already taken a fair bit of effort—if Sydney stopping seconds before Morgan’s climax had rippled through her body could be called effort.
Sydney didn’t think she’d ever forget the moment when her head had been between Morgan’s quivering thighs, the tip of her tired tongue less than an inch from the woman’s clit, giving Morgan an ultimatum.
“Either you come away with me for one night or I walk out of here right now.” To which Morgan had grumbled, “Fuck, Sydney. Why are you doing this to me now?” followed by a pause where Sydney sat back on her haunches, looking devilishly innocent, and then Morgan had thrown her arms in the air and groaned, “Fine. But you better finish what you started here.”
It was evil. Completely malicious. But it had been completely necessary at the time to get Morgan to agree.
“My toothpaste is in its own compartment,” Morgan said, her voice tinged with annoyance, but not enough to ruin the road trip.
Nothing could ruin the trip Sydney had planned.
Highway 1 was one of the most scenic drives in the world. Stretching over six hundred and fifty miles along California’s rugged coastline, the highway winds past cliffs, ocean views, redwood forests, and adorably charming seaside towns.
Sydney used to do a similar road trip with her parents when she was younger. But back then she’d been a sulky, headphone-wearing, listening to Evanescence teenager, while she had wondered why her parents were trying to torture her to death. Especially when Vincent had gone off to college.
Sydney adjusted the rearview mirror and said goodbye to Carmel-by-the-sea.
“So, where exactly are we staying?” Morgan mumbled, playing with the volume toggle.
The radio was on. They had both settled on Dancing in the Moonlight by King Harvest after Morgan complained that Mariah Carey shouldn’t be allowed on the radio except at Christmas time.
It didn’t matter to Sydney, who could listen to the woman’s voice year-round.
“The place is called The Seaside Retreat.” She had fallen in love with the photos the minute she’d found the place online.
It had everything she wanted: a deck overlooking the cliffs, a hot tub outside which Sydney imagined would be perfect for stargazing…
naked… with Morgan. “Sea views, a big king-size bed, and I packed enough wine to get us through a week.”
“Is that what that clinking sound is?” Morgan mused, losing that hint of annoyance from before. She leaned toward Sydney and slid a hand over Sydney’s thighs. “Are you planning on getting me drunk and having your way with me?”
“Maybe,” Sydney beamed.
Morgan’s laughter bubbled up, and Sydney had to clamp down on her excitement, trying not to let it spill over.
The day was still young. She didn’t want to get ahead of herself.
Especially when tonight, with the stars as her backdrop, Sydney was hoping to ask Morgan an important question.
She’d been mulling it over the last few days, wondering if it was too soon or too presumptuous to think Morgan might say yes to a potential relationship.
Maybe ask her about being girlfriends, partners, whatever you called it when you couldn’t get enough of a person, and you wanted to spend all your time with them.
The road wound its way along the coast, every turn and bend showing breathtaking views of the ocean. Sydney pointed at a sign. “McWay Falls,” Sydney said. “We have to get a few pictures there.”
Morgan frowned deeply. “We’ve barely been driving for an hour. If we have to stop at every place—”
“That’s the point… to embrace the journey. Every mile we travel teaches us something new, not just about where we’re going but about who we are,” Sydney interrupted, squeezing Morgan’s fingers tightly before the woman could pull her hand back.
“That sounds like something from Eat Pray Love,” Morgan stated. Her brows weaved together as she glanced at Sydney with those gray eyes shaded by expensive polarized sunglasses.
“More like a quote of wisdom from Derek. My dad used to say that every time we climbed in the car. Even on our way to school.”
“Wise man.”
“The wisest.” Sydney had a feeling her dad would like Morgan. Yet she didn’t utter her suspicions out loud just in case Morgan decided it was too much and she had to make a sudden exit from the moving car.
When they arrived at the falls, they managed to find the last parking spot before they took the short hike to the viewpoint. The walk was easy enough to do in sandals.
“Wow,” Sydney gasped, watching the waterfall tumble down in a sheer, silvery curtain right onto the pristine, crescent-shaped beach.
The falls were framed by lush greenery, as well as the blue expanse of the Pacific Ocean.
It was gorgeous. As pretty as a picture, but not nearly as beautiful as the woman standing beside her.
Morgan ran her fingers through her hair, those raven curls standing up like a wild halo, while her lips remained slightly parted, taking in the scene. “Okay, fine,” she relented after a minute. “This is far better than I expected.”
“I knew you would love it.”
“And how did you know that?”
“Intuition,” Sydney said, tapping her temple with a finger.
She had always trusted her gut, and with Morgan, it was no different.
Every glance, every tiny gesture had pieced together a picture in her mind.
A kind of puzzle. Morgan was one of those two-thousand-piece puzzles.
Nearly impossible to complete without a ton of patience, but Sydney felt like she’d been steadily solving it since the day they had met.
“Trust me, Morgan. I know you better than you think.”
Morgan raised a single brow. A breeze blew her curls into her face, and she looked just about ready to mercilessly tug the few strands behind her ear when Sydney beat her to it.
“I mean, you’re incredibly difficult to read at first, but I think I cracked the code.” Sydney went on, her fingers brushing lightly against Morgan’s skin.
Morgan smirked. “Oh, please do enlighten me.”
“For starters, you’ve got your guard up all the time like you’re afraid to show the real you, or at least the parts that truly matter.
” It was all very serious, too serious, and so Sydney pulled on a grin and added, “I’m sure if you just gave Mariah Carey a chance, maybe while we sit around a campfire again, you’d melt. ”
“You think I’d melt?” Morgan scoffed, but there was no heat to it. None at all.
“I think you already have.”
Morgan didn’t respond immediately. Instead, she held Sydney’s gaze for so long that the tension practically hummed between them.
Sydney was the first to break away, directing her eyes back to the waterfall. Morgan did too as they both watched the water cascading down while the words spoken settled between them.
Once they’d taken in as much of the view as possible—and the slight awkwardness had dissipated—the two headed back to the car and onto the road.
“What’s next?” Morgan asked, picking out the dried cranberries from the trail mix Sydney had brought along in a medium-sized zip lock bag.
“Elephant Seal Vista Point,” Sydney said. “I’ve heard it’s fascinating. Did you know that during winter, up to seventeen thousand elephant seals go there to molt and mate? Apparently, it’s like a massive orgy.”
Morgan made a face. “You really want us to stop just to see a bunch of seals lounging on a beach?”
“Yes,” Sydney said matter-of-factly. “We’re lucky to even get there from Carmel without having to go on Hwy 101. Last year, this entire section of Highway 1 around Big Sur was closed after rockslides. They’ve barely reopened.”
“Well, in that case, I’m more than happy to see a bunch of smelly seals wallowing in their own… whatever they wallow in.”
When they arrived forty-five minutes later, Sydney and Morgan stood by the railing, shoulders pressed tightly against each other as the cool ocean breeze whipped around them.
The seals were enormous, their bodies forming a rolling landscape of blubber and wrinkled skin sprawled across the sand. Most of them were grunting and barking and making a symphony of guttural noises that reverberated across the beach.
“Imagine trying to sleep with this noise,” Morgan said, wrinkling her nose.
“I mean, technically, it doesn’t sound that different from your snoring,” Sydney giggled.
Morgan snapped her head toward her and gasped so exaggeratedly that Sydney could see that tear-drop-shaped uvula hanging from the roof of her mouth. “I do not snore.”
“You do. Quite a bit, actually. I mean, I only slept over that one time, but I was ready to call it quits right then.”
Morgan narrowed those stormy eyes, and Sydney took it as the perfect opportunity to pull the woman into a kiss. It lasted several seconds and could’ve lasted longer if a family of five hadn’t rocked up with kids running ahead of the parents.
They were back in the car, driving at a leisurely speed along Highway 1, the road stretching out ahead like a ribbon. To their right was the dramatic coastline with frothy waves crashing against jagged rocks, while on their left were coastal bluffs crowned with groves of cypress trees.
Sydney was planning on asking the big question—or the little big question—later, but wanted to get a running start by asking another.
She turned the volume of Lady Hawke Think About You down a notch and spoke.
“So, Vince’s birthday is coming up next weekend.
The big three-five.” She caught sight of Morgan out of the corner of her eye and swore the woman had tensed up, her shoulders inching toward her ears.
Yet Sydney persisted. She was nothing, if not determined.
“It’s marine-themed. Bikinis aren’t mandatory, but they’re encouraged.
Anyway, I was thinking it’d be really fun to have you there.
I’m organizing it, by the way, and I was wondering if you’d like to come as my plus one? ”
It wasn’t her smoothest attempt, but it was an attempt, nonetheless.
Morgan said nothing at first, only stared straight ahead, jaw clenching and unclenching. Sydney had already begun bracing for the worst when Morgan nodded. “I’ll come… but only on the condition that I don’t arrive in a bikini.”
“You can dress up as a seahorse if you’d like. Anything at all.”
“How about I just wear something that doesn’t expose my stomach?”
“Perfect,” Sydney said, practically beaming.
It was a win, no doubt about it, but she had to play it cool.
At the moment, Morgan might be a popsicle in the hot sun, but still, she might just throw herself back into the freezer if Sydney pushed too hard.
Trying not to seem too ecstatic, she added, “So, are you ready for the next stop?”
“I can’t imagine how you can possibly top a seal orgy, but fine, where are we off to?”
“Cambria. The town is known for its cute shops, great breakfast spots, and the Nit Witt Ridge. Did you know Arthur Beal spent over fifty years building the house by himself? Though I don’t think they’re doing tours anymore.”
Sydney suddenly slammed on the brakes, her heart racing as the Jeep screeched to a halt, smoke rising up from the tires. She barely had a second to check the rearview mirror in case the car from behind rear-ended her, but the red Camry looked to have done an emergency brake as well.
Through the front windshield, Sydney saw it all unfold in a blur of colors and screams.
A cyclist, her helmet gleaming in the noon sun, had been sent sprawling onto the asphalt, her bike twisted into an unnatural angle, just like her right foot.
The sleek silver sedan that had struck her had come to an abrupt stop just mere feet away from the fallen rider. Immediately, the driver’s door swung open and a frantic-looking man with chinos, a polo shirt, and boat loafers emerged, screaming for help.
The cyclist wasn’t moving.
Morgan remained as still as the woman on the tarmac beside her crumpled bicycle.
Sydney’s heart began pounding in her chest and adrenaline, like a gushing river, pulsed through her veins as she fumbled with her seat belt. There was no thinking, only doing as her body sprang into practiced action as she was trained to do.
“We need to help her,” Sydney said, already tugging at the car door handle, flinging it open with such force it swung wildly. She was halfway out the door when she turned back to Morgan. “Come on, we have to help!”
But Morgan wasn’t moving.
The woman sat frozen, gray eyes wide, fists clenched so tight her knuckles stretched a ghostly white. Her face was at least two shades paler, making her skin seem almost translucent.
“Morgan, come on,” Sydney urged, her voice sharper now, impatient. The woman was a neurosurgeon, for goodness’ sake. Saving lives were her bread and butter, weren’t they?
Still, Morgan didn’t budge.
There was no time. Sydney couldn’t afford to wait any longer. Every second counted. She gave Morgan one last look, silently begging her to snap the fuck out of it, and then she stormed from the Jeep.