Chapter 4
MORGANA
My eyes flutter open. Golden morning light streams through the windows, painting everything in soft focus. I’m in Kane’s room. In Kane’s bed. Wrapped around Kane like he’s actually my boyfriend.
Oh God.
I should move, but I don’t. My body feels too content, too right. We didn’t have sex, but the feeling of him pressing against my ribs is new and terrifyingly bright.
Kane’s breathing shifts, the rhythm changing as he wakes. His arm tightens around me reflexively before his whole body goes still. He’s awake. We’re both awake. And neither of us is moving.
“Morgana,” he says, voice rough with sleep.
“Yeah?” I whisper back.
“We should probably get up.”
Neither of us moves. I tilt my head back to look at him, finding his eyes already on me. They’re dark, intense, searching my face for something. The morning light catches the gold flecks in them, and I forget how to breathe.
There’s a sharp knock at the door, and I freeze.
“Shit,” Kane mutters. “That’ll be breakfast.”
The spell breaks. We separate reluctantly, and I feel the loss of his warmth like a physical ache. He climbs out of bed to answer the door, and I try not to stare at the way his sweatpants hang low on his hips, the way his back muscles flex as he moves.
“I should go get ready,” I say, standing unsteadily.
Kane says my name, but I’m already heading for the door, suddenly desperate for space to think. To process. To figure out what the hell is happening between us.
“See you in an hour?” I ask, hand on the doorknob.
An hour later, Kane knocks on my door. He’s in slacks and a dress shirt that clings to his chest, looking unfairly good.
“Ready for whatever fresh hell your family has planned?” he asks.
I laugh despite myself. “God, no. I honestly blocked it out.”
“What do you need?”
The question is so Kane. He’s always been straight to the point, focused on looking out for me. I look at the wedding itinerary in my hand, then at the window with its postcard-pretty view of the hills, then back at him.
“I can’t,” I hear myself say. “I can’t do another group activity where they pick me apart. I need anything but that.”
He doesn’t hesitate. “Let’s get out of here then.”
“Kane, we can’t just leave like that.”
“Why not? It’s not the actual wedding. No one will miss us for a few hours.”
“But?”
“But nothing. Change into something you can hike in. I’ll figure out where we’re going.”
Twenty minutes later, we’re in his truck heading away from the winery. He asked the concierge about hiking trails, and she directed us to a path that winds up into the hills. The further we get from the venue, the easier I breathe.
“Thank you,” I say as he parks at the trailhead. “For not making me explain.”
We start up the trail, and for the first ten minutes, I’m quiet. Walking and breathing and letting the knot in my chest slowly unwind. The path is beautiful, with wildflowers dotting the edges, oak trees providing patches of shade, and the views getting better with each switchback.
“Your cousins are vicious,” Kane says finally, voice low but simmering.
I snort. “Tell me how you really feel.”
“I’m serious. The way they talk to you, the little digs disguised as concern. It’s bullshit.”
“I’m the cautionary tale. The one who couldn’t keep a man, doesn’t have kids, isn’t married yet.”
“You’re thirty-two, not dead. You should be defined by more than whether you’re attached to a man. I’m not exactly the most progressive man on the planet, and even I agree that a woman is more than that.”
“Tell that to Aunt Carol,” I laugh, rolling my eyes.
We reach a steeper section, and Kane offers his hand to help me over some rocks. I take it, and he doesn’t let go when we reach easier ground.
“Can I ask you something?” he says after a while.
“Since when do you ask permission?”
“Why did you invite me to this? You could have asked anyone.”
My heart hammers. The truth sits heavy on my tongue. Because I couldn’t imagine facing this with anyone else. Because you make me feel safe.
“Because you’re my safe place,” I say instead. “I trust you.”
His hand tightens around mine. “Morgana...”
“Look!” I point ahead, desperate to deflect. “I think that’s the viewpoint.”
We reach a clearing with a bench and a spectacular view of the valley. Vineyards stretch out below us in neat rows, the winery buildings looking tiny from this height. I sink onto a rock, tilting my face up to the sun.
“This is gorgeous,” I breathe.
“Yeah,” Kane agrees, but when I open my eyes, he’s looking at me, not the view.
We sit in comfortable silence for a while. A hawk circles overhead. The breeze carries the scent of wild herbs. Everything that felt so heavy at the winery seems insignificant up here.
“You good?” Kane asks eventually, nudging my shoulder with his.
I take a long look at him. This man who faced down my toxic family without flinching. Who held me last night when I was an emotional mess. Who kidnapped me from a wedding event because he knew I needed to breathe.
The realization isn’t new, but the clarity of it in this moment steals my breath: I’m in love with him. I’ve been in love with him for so long.
“Yeah,” I say, smiling for real for the first time all day. “I’m good.”
We hike back down as the afternoon light turns golden. I laugh until my sides hurt. We hold hands on the tricky parts of the trail and then...don’t let go.
By the time we get back to the truck, I feel human again.
“Feel better?” Kane asks as we drive back.
“Much. Thank you for kidnapping me.”
“Anytime you need to escape, I’m your guy.”
“We should probably come up with a story,” I say. “For where we were.”
“Or we could tell the truth. That you needed space, and I gave it to you.”
“My family won’t understand that.”
“Then that’s their problem, not yours.”
His fierce protectiveness makes something flutter in my stomach. We’re almost back at the winery when he speaks again.
“For what it’s worth, I think you’re handling this whole thing with grace. Lesser people would have snapped by now.”
“I almost did. When Jennifer started her humble-brag about private schools, I wanted to throw wine in her face.”
“I would have backed you up.”
“I know.” I look over at him. “That’s why I didn’t do it. Didn’t want to get you in trouble.”
“Morgana, I’d go to war for you. A little wine throwing wouldn’t even register.”
The casual, absolute way he says it makes my throat tighten. I know he means it. But I don’t know what it means for us.
We pull into the winery parking lot, and reality crashes back. The rehearsal dinner is in two hours. I have to put on a dress and makeup and pretend everything’s fine. Have to watch Victor marry my cousin tomorrow.
I want Kane to be mine.