Page 32 of Love, Morgan

She grinned at me. “Of course. It’s accurate, and it’s a good thing to be.”

“Is that what you are? Plucky?” I asked, mostly as a way to distract from the flush filtering through my cheeks at the way she’d looked at me as she answered, like being plucky was the best, most beautiful thing a person could be.

“If I’m not being feisty, I’m not even living,” she replied proudly.

“Hence the balcony parkour?”

“Hence the balcony parkour,” she agreed, sitting a little taller.

Unsure whether the drink was still mine or not, I gripped the glass tightly and took a slow swig. I needed a moment to think. We hadn’t had many of them, but conversation with Morgan was already proving to be a thrilling, confusing, and dazzling experience.

I leaned forwards deliberately, placing the glass back on the table. “Why exactly are you here? And don’t say because I sent you a mango. We both know I didn’t.”

She grinned like she’d been planning exactly that. “Well, you didn’t send me a mango, but somebody did, and they signed it with your name.”

My head whipped up. I really hadn’t been putting the pieces together properly. She’d told me repeatedly I was the one who’d sent her the mango. Of course it was signed with my name. “Why?”

“I have no idea. That’s why I’m here.”

“You’re here to figure out who is impersonating me when they send mangoes as gifts to the other guests?”

“Well, it’s not the only reason, but it’s an important one.”

“Why else?”

She shook her head, looking away. “Don’t worry about it. What matters is, how many people know you’re here?”

“Here exactly, or here in general? Because you watched my announcement video, clearly, so however many people have watched that know I’m here in general.”

She laughed. “I’m sure fans can be wild sometimes, but I don’t think anyone’s tracking down the resort you’re in on a far-flung island, only to send a mango to your neighbor in your name. It’s much more likely that they’d be sending ittoyou, rather thanfromyou, if they knew you were here.”

“Okay. Fair point. Though, I don’t think I’m nearly famous enough for anyone to care about tracking down where I vacation.”

“You’d be surprised.”

I winced. I really hoped I wouldn’t.

The fans were incredible. I appreciated every single one of them, and would for the rest of my life, but I hoped they didn’t all show up on the doorstep holding mangoes.

I let out a breath, shaking the idea away. “Okay, well, in terms of local people—the hotel staff, you, and, I guess, other guests, though I haven’t spoken to any of them long enough for them to know my name.”

“Unless they follow you, but even so, why send the mango to me, not you?”

“Are you a detective?” I asked, looking her over. She looked more like a movie star than a detective, but I could see her having film noir detective vibes if she leaned into it.

She laughed. “No.”

“Okay.” It felt silly now I’d asked and she’d found it to be a ridiculous question. “And no chance you just want to write this off as a weird coincidence and forget about it?”

“No? Why would I do that? Someone sent me a mango while pretending to be you. Now, I don’t mind being sent food, but they can’t go around signing your name to badly gift-wrapped mangoes.”

“I really don’t think anyone’s even going to find out, so I don’t think you need to worry.”

“I’m not worried. I’m indignant.”

“That’s worse,” I muttered to myself as she stood up with a flourish.

“Nah. We’re going to get to the bottom of this.” She gestured to the front door. “Do you want to get some lunch first, though?”

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