Page 37 of Love, Morgan

“Yes.” Ridiculous woman that she was.

“Could it have been her? Does she know I’m in the bungalow next to you?”

I fought the way my cheeks began to burn. I didn’t want to tell Iona that my friends were perfectly aware of my little… interest in her and her channel, or that I’d spent hours on the phone with them, lamenting my ability to act like a normal human around her. “Uh, yeah, she knows.”

“So it could have been her?”

“You’re so right. That absolute backstabber could be setting me up.”

Iona sat back in her chair, looking alarmed. “Didn’t you say she’s your best friend?”

“Yes. And?”

“And?you just called her a backstabber.”

“Okay?” I had no idea what she was getting at. Those two things were perfectly capable of coexisting. “If she sent me a mango, pretended to be you, and then told me to send you an orange to set me up, she’s absolutely a backstabber. And no, it’s not even remotely close to what Harlow and I did while trying to get her and Alicia back together.”

She stared for a moment, obviously trying to put together the pieces of what I’d told her.

She paused. “Wait. You’re upset at the idea that Ripley was trying to manipulate you into talking to me, but you manipulated her into getting back with her ex-wife.”

“I didn’tmanipulateher. Don’t make it sound ugly. All I did was help her see that she was still in love with Alicia, Alicia was still in love with her, and that they belonged together.”

She watched me with a small smile on her face. It was equally adorable and questioning. “I hadn’t picked you for such a romantic.”

“I climbed two balconies to get to you, didn’t I?”

She sucked in a sharp breath, ducking her head as her cheeks lit up. I watched her, realizing what I’d just said, what I’d implied, and how I hadn’t thought through whether that honesty was the appropriate path here. But, before I could dig too deeply, the waiter arrived with our food.

We both attempted to look normal, barely able to look at one another as we thanked them. It was painfully obvious that we were both grateful for the distraction, in need of the potential change of subject, and acutely aware that they’d arrived not a moment too soon.

Chapter 12

Iona

Iwoke up not sure I’d had enough sleep but raring to go anyway. After clambering her way onto my deck and into my day, Morgan hadn’t left, nor had I wanted her to. We ate lunch together, sat at the beach ostensibly discussing the mango investigation, ate dinner together as she told me all about Jackson Point, and eventually retired to my deck—the place it had all started—where I told her all about my home and my dad, my life with just the two of us. She drank her drink and then shared mine, and I found I didn’t mind a bit.

It was unusual. The only person I could spend this much time with and not become fatigued was my dad, and even then, I had a limit where I just needed some time alone to rest and reset. Morgan talked lightning-fast, jumped between subjects freely, and asked a lot of questions, but I hadn’t felt the need to get away from her. Sure, like anyone else drained by social interactions, I was certain there would come a moment I’d need some dark, quiet time, but being around her didn’t feel like work. I didn’t feel the energy draining from me, didn’t think she was going to judge the things I said or did. She was a whirlwind, but a whirlwind it was surprisingly easy and relaxing to be caught up in.

And, when she’d finally decided to call it a night, climbing back over the railings to her own bungalow, because apparently doors were overrated, I’d collapsed into bed feeling more relaxed than I had in years.

Perhaps it was exactly the fact that she had so many things to say that helped. My brain didn’t have time to worry or attempt to force itself to come up with conversations or interesting facts. I just went where she went and enjoyed the ride through her mind.

But, even with less sleep from sitting on the deck far too late with her, I was a creature of habit and awoke at my usual time. She’d mentioned in passing that she wasn’t a morning person, but, as I walked to breakfast, I still couldn’t help twisting this way and that in hopes of spotting her coming towards me.

“Looking for someone?” Thalia asked, her voice full of the smirk I knew was covering her face, as she caught me heading into the main building.

“No,” I replied immediately, still engaging in the pointless endeavor of pretending I didn’t care where Morgan was or what she was up to. “Why would I be?”

Thalia laughed. “So we’re still doing this? Over a week in, really?”

I swallowed. “We’re not doing anything because I’m not looking for anybody. Except you. Hello. Good morning. How are you?”

“Oh, how am I, huh? Just casually pretending I’m the one you’re looking for, even though you know exactly where to find me.”

“I see you almost every morning. Of course I’m looking for you.”

“Uh-huh. And definitely not looking for Ms. Franklin.”

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