Page 19 of The Ex Effect
“Whatever. You’ve abandoned me just like our childhood cat and the last delivery guy who promised to come back with the egg rolls he left at the restaurant. It’s been a week and I’m still waiting by the fire escape window to see if he’ll pull up.”
I stuffed a second pillow behind my head and tried to wiggle into a comfortable position. “First off, our cat was Mom’s cat and lived till he was nineteen. Second, when was the last time you had a homemade meal?”
“Hmmm,” Quinn said. “When did you leave? Then.”
“Yes, but I froze like ten fresh meals for you. Lasagna, soups, enchiladas?—”
“I know, and I love you for that. But for real, I’ve stayed inthe office late every night this week and have already eaten when I get home. Don’t worry. I’ll gorge myself this weekend.”
The sound of slurping came through the phone and even though it was seven p.m. East Coast time, I’d bet good money it was an iced triple espresso.
“All right, scale of one to ten,” Quinn said. “How are things going with…ahem.”
That was a loaded question. Better than expected. Worse than expected. Every moment was this weird mash-up clouded with a lifetime of memories while starting fresh ones with someone I didn’t know anymore. Morgan was cranky, angry, stubborn, then had these flickers of sweetness, and none of this was doing anything positive for my insides. “You can say her name, you know.” I put the phone on speaker and interlocked my fingers behind my head. “Is it a real one to ten or can I include negative numbers?”
Quinn released a low whistle. “Shit. That bad, huh?”
Yes and no. Definitely and not at all. Seeing Morgan again was certainly stirring something, and I didn’t like it. Memories suck. I wasn’t happy being smacked in the face daily with reminders of why I left this place. Growing up, the only place I had felt confident was on the field or with Morgan. It took years to shake that self-doubt and evolve into who I was today.
Back then, I hid my insecurities by being the loudest, holding my head high, and fighting with anyone who dared to talk shit. More than once, I got a technical foul by ramming into a bully on the basketball court. I specifically joined co-ed hockey because of the rush of hurling full speed ahead and body-checking a dickhead into the wall. But with Morgan, this beautiful blonde, rigid angel, I was authentically myself. And I always thought I was enough.
But when Morgan wouldn’t come to New York, that fragile ego shattered with the realization that Iwasn’tactually enough.Finding my new identity in New York, moving from being Katey with the long hair and gym shorts and little direction, to Frankie Lee, an admired, respected, even successful photographer, helped assemble those shattered pieces. I finally became the person I knew I was—someone who loved as hard as I hated, who cried as hard as I laughed.
“It’s not bad so much as it’s…a lot,” I finally said, tugging at the carnation comforter on the bed. “We had the photo shoot with Tommy and Olivia at Pete and Patty’s on Saturday.”
“Oh, you went there?” Quinn’s voice rose. “God, that place was magical. I loved it so much as a kid.”
“It was definitely something, but I wouldn’t call it magical.” I rolled to my side on the thin mattress.Ouch.The stupid spring dug into my hip. I flipped over, gave up, and paced. “They’re clearly overwhelmed and haven’t kept up the place. The barn is filled with so much crap I’m worried a dead body might be buried in there, and the yard is practically destroyed.”
“Shut up. Do they still do the Christmas stuff?”
“Only the trees.” Maybe my memories were muted, but I swore as a kid they had endless rows of giant pines. But on Saturday, I only saw them if I stood at the top of the hill. “No gift shop, nothing. They have a little bit of new growth planted, but that’s it.”
Quinn paused. “Damn, that’s depressing. It’s like my one happy childhood memory.”
I dug my thumbnail at a tear in the wallpaper. “Pretty sure your happiestchildhood memory is when you were the first one in your grade to wear a bra.”
“Really? That was theworst. And thanks for bringing up that lovely little morsel. I can practically feel the underwire dig into me.” Quinn groaned. “What sort of nefarious shit did we do in our past life to be all boobs and no ass?”
“Speak for yourself.” I laughed, but Quinn was spot-on. I’d grown comfortable with my body over the years, appreciatingthe natural ability to maintain muscle. But seeing people like Morgan, whose curves spanned from hell to heaven, sometimes that little insecurity bug nipped at me. “Anyway, long story short, since Tommy and Olivia can’t wait to get married, but also have zero time, they’ve hired Morgan. She’s scoped every place within two hours’ drive for a venue and there’s literally nothing available.”
Another slurp sounded over the phone. “So, what are you guys going to do?”
In the kitchen, I slid out a stool from under the kitchen island. “Well…Morgan wants to fix up Pete and Patty’s barn and have the wedding there.”
“That’s a freakinghugeundertaking,” Quinn said in between sips. “Why’s your voice all cranky?”
I placed the phone face up on the counter and rested my head on the cool countertop. “Because Pete and Patty would only agree to it if I oversaw the entire thing.”
“Shit.”
My sentiments exactly. A tiny part of me was almost excited about the idea. Being stuck in Peaches’s house all day wasn’t doing a lot for my mental health. I needed to be outside, moving, and in the sun, not inside packing boxes. But being stuck with Morgan for the summer sounded nearly as suffocating.
“Doesn’t something like that take years?”
“You’d think, but Morgan is like Ms. Speederton and is already knee-deep in moving this along. Ever since I offered to talk to Pete and Patty, I’m dodging calls, texts, and emails like a boxer in the ring.” I wasn’t even exaggerating. In the last two days, I’d received dozens of messages. Everything from her ideas on hiring a few folks from Morgan’s parents’ crew, bringing up an electrician from Brainerd, and, after making ten phone calls, finding a guy in Minneapolis who had an in-stock window to replace the broken one in the barn. “Why not use a single modeof communication and send one update a day? I feel like I’m playing whack-a-mole on messages.”
“Well, as apremierandhighly sought-afterexecutive assistant—who’s also seriously cute—I can tell you there are very specific reasons why you’d use different modes of communication.” I could almost hear Quinn smiling over the phone. “For someone who shuns nearly everything digital, like you, that sounds seriously overwhelming, though. For real. I feel for you.”
