Page 25 of Secret Cinderella
And so was college. No one ever said that was cheap. She’d looked into community college and given that a ‘hold’ until she had a better savings to fall back on in case the worst happened with Nancy.
In the second to last box, she found a pair of black slacks much softer than the polyester blends her store sold, with a red and black top that seemed appropriate for breakfast. Jack came out in his robe as she dressed and she asked, “On your dime?”
He hugged her from behind and kissed the back of her neck.
Heat coursed through her when he said, “On ours. You’d be my wife.”
That was so hard to imagine.
Until yesterday she’d been stocking canned soups in aisle twelve, dreaming of a different life where she ran the store until Jack came home from work and they had dinner together, as a family.
Jack grabbed a pair of jeans and a button-down shirt. He tucked it into his jeans—so different than his superhero t-shirts from years ago. She helped him tuck it in where he couldn’t see a gap in the back. “I don’t want you to think that I’d say yes to get away from Nancy.”
He laughed and tipped his head to the side, whispering, “Well, that is a benefit if you do.”
She stepped back and checked to ensure that he looked perfect.
He’d have to fit in downstairs with his always-being-photographed Morgan family. He was very put together. She squared her shoulders and said the truth, “I’m hedging because of my father’s store.”
He brought her arms around his waist so they were chest to chest. “Marrying me has to be better for you than working as Nancy’s slave.”
”Yes,” she agreed without thinking twice. But the superstore had once been her father’s dream. Not that it mattered. Right? He’d want her to be with the man she might love forever and here Jack was. She felt her eyes watering a little but she refused to cry. “Jack, I love you. You’ve been the only good part of my life in years.”
He swayed them around the bed as he asked, “But?”
The past shouldn’t matter. She was here, with Jack. She spoke from her heart when she said, “That’s it. If you want to marry me, I want to marry you.”
His eyes widened in shock and he froze mid-step. “You really do?”
“Absolutely.” She held her breath. Did his reaction mean that he hadn’t meant his proposal? She swallowed and glanced down at the bed they’d shared. “If you still want to?”
He kissed her cheek and she turned toward him again as he asked, “No buts?”
“No.” She hugged him tight.
Jack was everything she’d ever wanted, ever. She’d been clearly blind but the idea of being without him sent a chill through her that made her think her life would be hopeless and never-ending.
He traced her back. “I thought getting you to agree to be my wife would be harder.”
She went onto her tiptoes and kissed him fast. His lips still made her ache in places she hadn’t ever been sensitive in. As the kiss ended, she said, “I know with you, I’m safe. Cared for. And I love you. You love me. My father would have liked our marriage, I think.”
The words resounded with truth. Her dad would have wanted her to be happy and in love. Jack smiled like he’d won the lottery, which he kind of had with his whole identity being exposed, but she hoped in part because of her agreement to spend their lives together. He said, “My mother adores you.”
Patricia O’Conner had often lent her ear and offered food. She'd worried Charlotte didn’t get enough to eat at her own house as a teenager, which was the closest thing she’d had to a maternal role model, as she had no memories of her own mother. Charlotte stepped away from Jack to go through the shoes he’d left for her and hoped to find at least one pair of flats.
Heels weren’t a breakfast fashion statement that matched her personality. She opened a few of the boxes and said, “She’s the closest person I have to a mother figure, other than Nancy, and I’d rather be an O’Conner.”
He handed her the next box as the first was a bright blue heel but held it in his hands when he said, “You’re not going to be that.”
Jack released the box and she jerked back. “What?”
He leaned down and opened the next bag. “I’m Jack Morgan now…but that’s just semantics.”
Ah. His new name…she’d heard him, but hadn’t fully realized that he would go that route. She opened the box and said, “The Morgan family is clearly more than semantics—they’re a powerhouse.” Finally she found a pair of simple black shoes. She took one out and saw how Jack stared at her like his gaze needed to penetrate her skin. She rubbed her arm and wondered what was going on. What did he see? She said, “You’re different.”
He helped her put on her black shoes like she was a princess—she hadn’t been so cared for since her father had died. He said, “So are you, but my love for you hasn’t changed.”
He kissed the back of her hand and she said with confidence, “Then let’s just give in to being happy. I’m tired of waiting for my life to begin. Things are better… with you.”
