Page 40 of Love, Morgan

Morgan looked delighted. “Hello.”

“You’re up so early,” I said, my eyes bouncing around the room. I didn’t know why I felt so guilty, like I’d been caught doing something I shouldn’t. I’d spent a whole week desperately trying to run into her, and, now that she was here, I couldn’t handle it?

“Mm,” she said, looking Thalia over with a calculating gaze. “Obviously, the universe knew someone was attempting to steal my title and sent me out here to reclaim it.”

Thalia laughed, looking pointedly at me.

Did nobody have any subtlety these days?

“Don’t worry, Ms. Franklin, the title is all yours. As is this seat.” She stood, shooting me an accusing look as she stole the final piece of pineapple from my plate. “I have to get to work. See you later, Iona.”

I nodded, my brain feeling like scrambled eggs. “Bye.”

Morgan dropped into her vacated seat. “Who’s she?” she asked as if she didn’t know the front desk staff.

There was something in her voice that I didn’t even know how to place but, whatever it was, caused my pulse to spike. Or maybe that was simply her presence, the surprise of seeing her here, and the fact that everyone seemed to be insisting on the balcony thing being romantic.

I cleared my throat, trying desperately to regain some moisture in it. I didn’t even know when it had suddenly turned into a desert in there. “Thalia. She works at the front desk. We’re… friends, I guess?”

“You’re not sure?” She looked amused, but there was still something swirling underneath that I didn’t understand.

I felt my cheeks burn again. “Yeah. I guess. I, uh, I… have a lot of trouble making friends. Hence my dad being keen that I get to know people here, and him and I being so close. He’s like my only real friend.”

I wished I could stop talking.

“Ah, I see.” She looked over my shoulder for a moment, her gaze unfocused. “But you’re friends with other creators. You talk about them, they talk about you. I’ve seen it.”

My stomach twisted. “Yeah, kind of. I mean, in a professional way. It’s nothing like what you and Ripley have. We’re friends in the way you are with your colleagues. I probably wouldn’t call any of them just to have a chat.”

“Huh.” She watched me as she thought that over, moving to take my fork from me.

The move seemed like she wasn’t even conscious of it—maybe she wasn’t. Maybe she was just the type to share food with her friends, to use their glasses and their forks, to help herself to their food. Clearly, Thalia did that too—though she’d never taken my fork, nor did I think I’d let her if she tried.

I did let Morgan, though. And pushed my plate slightly closer to her as she helped herself to my breakfast—nowourbreakfast, I supposed.

“But now you’re friends with Thalia?” she finally asked, apparently unaware of the turmoil sharing a fork and a breakfast with her was causing in my heart and my head.

“Uh, yeah, I guess so. She said she wants to keep in touch once I leave, so I guess we’re friends.”

“Does she know who you are?”

I laughed, remembering the last time she asked me that. “Yes, she knows who I am.”

She paused, my fork lingering on her soft, pink lips. “Notdoes she look at you when you talkknow you, does sheknowwho you are?”

I shrugged, trying to force my gaze away from where my fork played over her lips, and fighting hard against the unfamiliar urge to replace it with my fingertips. “If she does, it hasn’t come up.”

She nodded, handing my fork back to me. “And she’s just a friend?”

There was a slight emphasis on the wordjustthat sent my brain freewheeling out into space again. She was attempting to disguise it, to make the question seem casual, but was there a way or a reason to ask that that wasn’t romantic?

“Yes,” I replied, a little too emphatically. “What else would she be?”

Morgan shrugged, a flush of pink appearing across her nose. “You wouldn’t be the first person to have a vacation fling with a member of staff.”

I swallowed hard, my throat struggling to work. Surely there was no platonic way for this conversation to be happening? “As much as I’m sure my dad would be thrilled about me… getting out there, I have no interest in that.”

We both winced and I couldn’t help but wonder why she did. I knew mine was the memory of my dad trying to talk to me about vacation sex, but I hadn’t told Morgan about that conversation.

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