Page 17 of Love, Morgan

And it was all too easy to get caught up in it. After a couple of hours, I’d mostly forgotten where I was. Of course, the view through the wall of glass every time I looked up was an incredible reminder, as was the coffee I was sipping which was far nicer than anything I’d ever had at home. I was going to have to splash out and start getting into it more.

While I worked, it felt nice. I knew I wasn’t supposed to be working, but it felt familiar and reassuring, it felt like what I was supposed to be doing, and that allowed me to enjoy the location fully for the first time. I’d chosen a seat that had no way of looking towards Ms. Franklin’s bungalow, and, while I was locked up safely in mine, there was no way we were going to run into one another. It was actually relaxing.

I’d just leave considering what it meant that I could only relax on vacation if I was working until another time.

I focused on the comments on my latest video, honing in on a familiar username. I was pretty certain the person behind it was named Kay. She’d been around for a while now and had sent me a few messages she’d signed off with that name. She was sweet and excitable, and exactly the energy I needed right now.

I smiled as I read her warm words, my hands freezing over the keys as I moved to reply but was interrupted by a knock on my door.

Well,knockwas something of an understatement. Someone was hammering on my bungalow door.

It couldn’t be staff—they’d ring the doorbell or knock much more softly, surely? So, it had to be another guest. And they sounded incredibly panicked.

I raced towards the door, worried something horrible had happened.

Bare, curvy legs, and a hoodie so oversized she could probably get away with wearing nothing underneath registered before I could get my brain into gear.

It was her.Ms. Franklin.The neighbor who hated me and screamed across the lagoon at the mere sight of me. At my door.

“What are you doing?” she demanded. There was something about her frustration that seemed oddly endearing.

I was beginning to think I might have hit my head. What was wrong with me? Maybe we’d lost cabin pressure on the flight? I didn’t remember it, but what other excuse was there for finding an angry stranger adorable?

“I’m sorry?” Breathing was difficult. I didn’t know if I was apologizing or asking her to repeat what she’d said. All I knew was that she was here. She was a good six inches shorter than me. And she was probably the prettiest person I’d ever seen—and I made a living off pretty things.

She blinked, possibly infuriated at my failure to keep up.

Her eyeliner was perfect—sharp enough to kill a man. Of course it was.

“You’re on vacation and you’re working,” she said, gesturing towards the bungalow behind me.

Had she been looking in, watching me? I hadn’t thought she’d be able to see me. Was it even logistically possible? Wouldn’t she have needed to be on my balcony to see me?

Maybe she’d been out in the lagoon and noticed?

“Uh, yeah,” I said, feeling dizzy. “I just had a few things I needed to attend to. How did you—?”

“Don’t worry about that. Just stop working. You’re on vacation. Take a break.”

She watched me intently for a minute. I honestly couldn’t tell if she was annoyed or protective. All I really knew was that being watched by her was one of the most intense feelings of my life.

Maybe Thalia had been right—Ms. Franklin was nice but she had one hell of a personality. I didn’t mind it. Even if it felt like I’d done something wrong.

She stepped closer and my breath caught. Her eyes went wide, possibly registering the hitch, which was impossibly embarrassing.

“Stop working.” She nodded in a way that implied that was final before spinning on the ball of her foot and striding off back towards her own bungalow, a little too quick to be casual.

I stared after her with wide eyes long after she was gone. My heart pounded in my chest.

She was angry with me, but it wasn’t like yesterday’s anger. I wasn’t sure what it was—what any of it was. And I wasn’t sure how she could possibly have known.

I closed the door, walking stiffly back to the living room. I spun slowly. There was no way for her to see in. She’d have needed to be on my balcony or in the water right in front of my bungalow.

I sat back in the seat I’d vacated when she’d knocked. With how close she’d have needed to be, and the angle she’d have to be at to even see I was on a laptop, I’d surely have seen her too. And even if she’d been at the right height and right angle, how would she possibly have known I was working? People did all kinds of things on laptops.

Unless…

Could that explain it all? I didn’t know why she’d be so angry, rather than excited—people were usually very sweet and joyous when we met—but, was it possible Ms. Franklin was a fan?

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