Page 65 of Love, Morgan

“I actually kind of like tinned prunes,” she whispered back, and my heart shattered into a million tiny little pieces.

Bridge and prunes. Morgan and Iona.

Chapter 20

Iona

Ididn’t think I’d ever get over sleeping beside Morgan—even when I couldn’t sleep. I’d tried, but every part of me couldn’t risk wasting a single second. Come tomorrow, everything would be different. I’d be heading home. She’d already be gone.

How was I supposed to sleep when we only had a few hours left together?

I wasn’t cut out for vacation flings—neither was she—but I was fairly certain this was something more. It felt as bad as it did because being with her felt as good as it did. Sure, flings probably—hopefully—made people feel great in the moment, but they must know it was temporary and want that.

I wanted Morgan temporarily because that’s all we had. Given more time, I’d want more time. Maybe she would too. But she’d worked hard to build her life, and I’d watched my dad rebuild his. I wasn’t going to be another person abandoning him. Nor was I going to be the person forcing Morgan out of the choices she’d made for herself. The ones she needed to make for herself. I knew the damage people did to us, the scars they left, and the importance of the lives built in the aftermath of that pain.

We’d made this decision together, and we knew what happened next.

She stirred next to me and I couldn’t help but wonder whether her heart, too, knew our time was running out.

“Ugh. It’s too early,” she grumbled—so her, so Morgan.

“It is a little early,” I agreed, loving this rumpled, grumpy version of her every bit as much as I loved the version of her that had sat across from me at dinner last night, lit by candles under a radiant moon.

This wasn’t how you felt about someone you were just having a fling with. This was wanting to know what she looked like under every moon, in every season, wanting to know the little things that made her laugh in her day, and what frustrated her and how to help.

This was feeling forever about someone you had five minutes with.

She scrunched up into a ball. “I guess I’ll sleep when I’m dead.”

“I really hope that’s not happening soon.”

“Hm.” She cracked one eye, looking up at me, and it was almost too much to bear. I could feel it in the air between us—she’d sleep when we were apart. We both would. It ached like a physical wound. Maybe it felt like death.

Was this really what my dad had in mind when he told me to have a fling during my vacation? Had he known it would feel this sweet and painful and so much more consuming than it was supposed to? Had he set me up without warning?

Though, why would he have needed to give me a warning? He’d known me long enough to know I didn’t usually do this. Nothing about me had implied I was going to come here and inexplicably meet someone who was going to make the world come alive as it never had before.

“Iona?” she prompted softly, and I realized I’d missed something.

“Yes. Sorry?” I winced, my cheeks burning.

“Should we get breakfast together today?” She smiled sadly. “And swim in the water, and stop to kiss, and walk down the beach, and…”

And,indeed.

Ourandswere running out.

I nodded, swallowing hard. “I’m sure the whole resort will be shocked to see you up so early. It’s nice to leave them a little shocked.”

She snorted, clambering out of bed at the same time I did. “As if they care.”

“How could they not?” I asked quietly, unsure whether I wanted her to hear or not. I should have hoped not, especially given the broken, aching longing in my voice, but I couldn’t bring myself to. I wanted her to know. I wanted her to realize she was undeniable, unmissable. The whole world could fall apart and she’d still be the thing it wouldn’t forget. She was blissfully, painfully, beautifully the best of us, and everybody knew it. They had to. It couldn’t just be me feeling this way.

Her bare feet padded softly over the floor as she came up behind me, wrapping her arms tightly around me. My chest throbbed, my eyes burned. It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

And I still couldn’t regret a second of it—ofher.

She sucked in a deep, shuddering breath, and the knowledge she was struggling too was the only thing that made it bearable. I didn’t want her to suffer, but, with her, I didn’t feel alone in the world. It was nice not to be alone in this too.

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