Page 12 of Love, Morgan

“Yes.” My voice sounded hollow. I knew she’d hear it too.

“Oh, my god,” she yelped right down my ear. As if I wasn’t already going through enough. “That’s amazing.”

I stared at a vase on the sideboard, wondering what world Ripley was living in. I swear, since she and Alicia got back together, her head had been somewhere else entirely.

“This is actually perfect,” Ripley continued, entirely ignorant of my struggles. “Maybe you can finally meet her and stop pining over her online instead. Have you spoken to her yet?”

“Have I spoken to her yet?” I repeated back, incredulous. “Are you out of your mind? Of course I haven’t spoken to her yet. I won’t be speaking to her at all. I need you to get me off this island.”

Ripley laughed. Some best friend she was.

“I’m not getting you off the island.” I could hear her rolling her eyes and I hated it. “If you really wanted out, you’d already be on a plane. What you actually want is someone to tell you that it’s all going to be okay, that you can meet the woman you’re in love with, and everything will turn out great.”

“I’m not in love with her. I don’t even know her.” I started pacing again, not sure what else to do with the adrenaline coursing, almost painfully, through my veins.

I wasn’t this person. I didn’t do this. What was in the drinks they’d given me at the bar? It had to be something. That was the only explanation.

Ripley laughed again. “Funnily enough, that argument didn’t seem to convince you of anything when you were trying to force me and Alicia back together.”

I rolled my eyes.

In truth, I supposed being annoyed at Ripley’s ridiculousness was better than stressing about Iona. But still, couldn’t she stop being quite so ridiculous for one minute?

“Firstly,” I said, holding up a finger as if she could see it, “you and Alicia were still in love. Secondly, that’s not even close to being relevant here because it’s not the same situation. You two had been married.Married,Ripley. As in, the person you pledged yourself and your life to. I don’t care if you spent eight years apart, you still knew each other like the backs of your hands.”

“And you don’t think you know Iona with how many hours you’ve spent watching her online?” She had that softness in her voice that I’d gotten used to hearing whenever how much she loved Alicia came up—or anything that made her think about how much she loved Alicia came up.

Even annoyed as I was, I couldn’t bring myself to be angry with that. She’d spent eight years without it. Eight years being a vase someone had glued back together without all of the pieces. She looked perfectly fine from the front, but, if you looked inside, you’d realize bits of her were absent. The vase couldn’t have held anything in it because there was a huge, important piece missing.

She had it back now, and I wasn’t going to be the one to criticize her for that. But it would be nice if she could realize the rest of us weren’t living the happy little fairytale life she was.

I sighed. “No, Ripley. I don’t think I know her, because I understand the difference between knowing someone and being a fan of them.”

“Huh. Do you?”

I scowled, picking up my pace. “Yes.”

“Interesting.”

I was regretting calling her. “Do you have a point?”

She laughed. “No. Just interesting that you know there’s a difference when you’ve spent far too many nights sitting up watching her videos like you think she’s going to know if you don’t.”

“So you did have a point, then.”

She laughed again, this time at the anger in my voice. “Come on, Morgan. After the hard time you gave me with Alicia, you have to let me have a little bit of fun with this.”

“I don’t have to do anything I don’t want to. I’m an adult who is in control of my own life. I don’thaveto do anything.”

I hadn’t sounded like that in years. I wondered if she remembered that tone too. I hoped she wouldn’t. I wasn’t that lost little girl anymore, and I wasn’t going to let one woman reduce me to it again.

“I’m sorry, Morgan,” Ripley said, all humor gone from her tone. I hated it because it meant she remembered too.

If she didn’t remember, I could pretend not to be that girl again. I could be the person who’d always known what she was doing. I could be someone who never cared what their family put them through. I could be the person I wanted to be, the one I’d built myself into.

But she remembered.

I took a steadying breath. I knew who I was. “Don’t apologize, Ripley. I don’t want it.”

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