47. Scarlett
Scarlett
“Thank you for meeting with me,” the woman smiles into her laptop camera, and I do the same. It’s a forced smile, but a smile.
“Thank you for the interview,” I tell her. “I’m honored that you sought me out,”
“Listen, Miss Moore. After your colab with Bale Resorts, everyone wants to hire you. Trust me, people are talking about it everywhere,” she says.
“Are you sure they’re talking about that and not the other media?” I grimace, but she just laughs.
“Trust me, the Bale brothers might be ripping their own empire apart, but you are unscathed. You’re just that good.”
The fact that I am even doing this interview feels like a betrayal. Despite the fact that I have no future with Bale (the resorts or the man…), agreeing to work for any other company feels like selling myself short. Because I loved working for him. I loved working with him.
I loved him.
But considering the fact that I haven’t heard from him or spoken to him since that fateful day at the airport, I think it’s safe to say that ship has sailed. And I need a job. And this is a very, very good job.
I listen as she rattles off the credentials, the travel agenda, the expectations, the compensation and benefits (which are arguably very, very generous) and the entire time I smile and nod eagerly, reminding myself that it’s for the babies.
I have to do what’s best for the babies.
Of course at some point I’m going to have to figure something else out (I can’t fly after a certain point in the pregnancy I don’t think) but if I save every penny until then, I should be able to figure things out.
Plus, I promised Claire I’d let her help.
“How does all of that sound?” she asks at the end.
“It sounds amazing,” I admit. And it does. Or it would. If she were Morgan and she were offering to take me back and raise our children together.
“Wonderful. I just can’t believe you’re that girl.”
“That girl?” I ask, realizing that she too has probably seen the media. I mean, she did find me on Insta after all. “Right. Yes, I am the girl who did the travel blog for Bale Resorts. Who was pregnant and engaged, and it was all a sham. Well. Not the pregnancy part, obviously,” I say.
“No. I mean, you’re the bucket list girl,” she says.
I sigh, still holding a smile. “Yes. He took my bucket list…”
But she only laughs. “I mean, the bucket list. The one he wrote for you?”
“For me?” I ask.
“Girl, check your phone. And also, your email because I’m sending you some docs to sign and–”
I don’t hear the rest. Because I am too busy checking my phone, like she said. And that’s when I see what she’s talking about.
I’ve been tagged about twenty times in an article posted by Bale Resorts. Photos I took on the trip. The article itself is enough that tears well in my eyes, and I have to wipe them and read it twice.
“He reconciled with Conrad…” I say in near disbelief.
But it’s the part after that which really gets me. That makes my throat tight and my stomach bottom out and my heart slows down.
It’s a bucket list, written by Morgan. And it’s the last item on that list that has my heart stopping altogether.
● Fix my reputation as CEO of Bale. Check.
● Gather up all the amazing things about not just my resorts but the cities they’re in and share them with the world so others can experience life at its richest. That was what my parents wanted when they started the company, and it’s what I should strive for always.
● Experience all of these things with an amazing woman.
● Fall in love with this amazing woman.
● Realize that my dumb actions have the ability to cost me this woman.
● Convince her to meet me at the New York resort so I can apologize to her and tell her how I truly feel…
* * *
Honestly, I wasn’t really sure what to do. We haven’t spoken at all since that day. And now here he is, wanting to talk in New York City, and he broadcast it.
Funnily enough, the woman interviewing me asked if I was going to go. It was almost as if she wanted me to. As if she was rooting for the story so much that she didn’t even care that if it ended in happily ever after, she might lose me as a potential travel blogger.
And my prospective boss wasn’t the only one persuading me to get on the plane. Within minutes of ending the Zoom meeting, Claire was calling me, insisting I give him a chance to explain.
It’s like the whole world is rooting for us despite everything that happened. And to push the ball further into my court, Claire ended the call by saying,
“It’s a very you thing to do. But also, you have nothing to lose.”
And she’s right. So right that I am on a plane, buckling my seatbelt as we begin our final descent towards the airport, floating in over NYC.
And it’s everything I expected. The city is like a diamond-studded blanket surrounded by the deep, royal blue ocean.
The taxi ride down into the heart of it all is just as impressive.
Honking horns, scuttling people, and of course, more lights.
As we head to the resort, we pass Madison Square Garden, and I swear I can’t take photos fast enough.
I also can’t stop smiling, even if my heart is in my stomach and my stomach is in my throat.
“Here we are, Miss Scarlettt,” Seb says as he pulls up to the curb.
“Thank you, Seb, for everything,” I tell him. Because of course, when I got off the plane, he was the one waiting for me. He even had a sign which made me laugh and almost cry.
“You say that like this is goodbye,” he tells me.
“You never know…” I say.
“No, Miss Scarlettt, you never do,” he says with a wink. I turn to walk into the resort, and that’s when it hits me. I am really here. Not just in NYC but in the Bale Resort. And somewhere here, Morgan is waiting for me. Somewhere past the huge crowd of people.
Lordy.
And here I was thinking Bale was suffering from bad media. But as people watch me walk towards the main doors, cameras and phones come out; it occurs to me that they’re here for me. For him. For us.
But totally no pressure.
I walk inside and immediately I am ushered by a woman in a Bale Resorts shirt to the bar upstairs. As in at the top of the building. The very, very top.
“You nervous?” she asks me on the way to the quiet elevator.
“No. Yes. Maybe a little,” I admit, and she smiles.
“It’s okay. You didn’t hear it from me, but Morgan is totally nervous too.”
“He is?” I ask, and she nods.
“Sweating bullets…”
I have to smile at that until the door opens. It’s a private rooftop bar with plants and a couple tables and fairy lights and…
“Morgan,” I say as I step out of the elevator. It closes behind me, but I still don’t move. In the middle of the space is Morgan, standing there staring at me. And the woman was right. He’s a mess.
“Hello, Scarlett,” he says gently. And then, “I wasn’t sure if you’d come.”
“Well, it’s not every day I get invited to New York City for a spontaneous getaway, so I figured, why not? One more thing crossed off the bucket list, you know?”
“Right,” he says. Then I take a few steps closer. The only thing more awkward than standing here with him right now is standing at a social distancing distance. It is 2026 after all.
Then we speak at the same time.
“Scarlett.”
“Morgan,”
“No,” he says. “Me first. Please. I want to apologize. I shouldn’t have walked out of the airport like that.
I should have stayed. Talked. Figured things out,” he says, running a hand through his hair.
“I was intrigued by you the day I met you. Before we even met, actually. I saw you in the lobby of the Sapphire and almost introduced myself. Then, when I found you in the suite, well, I just had to know who you were. Though I will admit that I never intended it to go that far,” he admits, and my cheeks flush. “But also, I don’t regret it.”
“And that’s the thing, Scarlett. I don’t regret any of it.
Hiring you, traveling with you, letting you see the real me.
The only thing I regret is not admitting that I knew who you were.
I just didn’t want you to think I was hiring you because of that.
And I actually never intended to keep your book. I actually tried to get rid of it,”
“You did?” I ask.
“I threw it away. And it followed me. I wanted to use it to show you the world. But I never used it for myself. It was you. Everything was for you because you changed me, Scarlett. You reintroduced me to myself. And the more I discovered myself again, the more I fell for you.”
I nod, swallowing back the lump in my throat.
“It’s not all on you,” I tell him. “We both pretended to be strangers at the interview. And as far as the babies go…I didn’t know until we left for San Diego.
I wanted to tell you, but didn’t know how.
I was afraid,” I admit and my voice cracks with the words.
Morgan takes a step closer, closing the space between us even more. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I’m sorry you were going through it alone.”
“I just knew you didn’t want kids,” I tell him, and his brow furrows.
“Who said I don’t want kids?”
“You said growing up in airports was terrible. And I’m a travel journalist. I’ll always be on the road, motherhood or not,” I tell him.
“Scarlett,” Morgan smiles, wiping away a tear from my cheek that I didn’t even know was there.
“I don’t want my kids feeling isolated and exhausted the way I did.
But it’s a different world now. We have a private jet and all these resorts and VIP amenities.
Not to mention homeschooling resources are incredible now. I know. I’ve looked.”
“You’ve looked?” I ask.
“I have. Granted, it was on the flight here. But yes. I’ve thought about it. I’ve thought about everything. And I want this. I want you. I want us,” he says, and I let out a shaky breath.
“Wow,” I say with a sniffle. “And to think how much easier this would all have been if we’d just been honest with each other.”
“You know,” he says, pulling me against him. “I think maybe things happened when they did for a reason.”
“Maybe so,” I say, gazing up at him.
“I am curious about one thing, though…”
“What’s that?” I ask as my heart floods with warmth.
“Can you cross it off your bucket list? Falling in love in NYC?” he asks.
“I don’t think so…” I say, and his expression falls. But I just smile. “I can’t fall in love in New York City…because I was already in love with you before.”
“Oh,” he lets out.
“I was in love with you a long time ago,” I say.
“Well, isn’t that a coincidence? Because I fell in love with you long ago too,” he says before pressing his lips to mine. After a long, sweet kiss that fills us both with reassurance. When we finally pull back, I look up at him again.
“What about you? Did that fulfill your bucket list?” I ask.
“Actually, there’s one more thing. I updated it,” he says and then waits.
I pull out my phone and look at the post again. Sure enough, there is one more thing added to the list.
Propose to Scarlett in New York City.
I stop, my mouth dropping open. And then Morgan drops to his knee.
“Cheese and rice,” I say as he produces the ring for the second time. But this time, it’s real. Everything is real.
“Scarlett, will you–”
“Yes!” I blurt out, and then I cover my mouth with a high-pitched laugh. “Sorry. But yes. Yes, I will.”
Morgan puts the ring back on my finger and comes to his feet. He wraps his arms around me and I lace my fingers behind his neck.
“A thousand times yes,” I say. And as he leans in to kiss me, I add, “With one stipulation,”
“What’s that?” he asks.
“That we create a bucket list together,” I say, and a smile crawls across his lips.
“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” he says and his lips find mine once again.