Page 40 of The Ex Effect
“Yep.”
“Great, see you then.”Click.
Sure, I was glad Morgan called, since she’d all but ignored me since we last talked, but this was all she wanted? I guess I wasn’t sure what I was expecting. Maybe an offer to have a talk. Maybe a question about why I never divulged my marriage. Maybe something, literally anything, that had a personal ring. Butnope.
Being free was irrelevant. Was I sick of refreshing my emails a hundred times a day to check ifBirch & Willowsent something? Yes. Was I tired of sifting through Peaches’s items? Yes. Was I missing Morgan? Also, yes.
Dammit. I shouldn’t bemissingMorgan. Missing human interaction, or someone to chat with, or a working partner, fine. But missing Morgan,the person? That wasn’t good.
Ifilled a box with Peaches’s old costume jewelry, hats, and scarves, and moved to tape. On second thought…I dug through it and pulled a couple of Peaches’s brooches and her obnoxious lavender sun hat with the multicolored peacock feather she wore everywhere. I couldn’t part with these. It was like these items were a part of Peaches. I started a new box for “saved” items. At this rate, my two-bedroom apartment in New York was going to overflow with memorabilia if I didn’t stop myself, and I’d be no different from Peaches, who stuffed every nook with random shit.
Several hours later, after never wanting to see another cardboard box for the rest of my life, I pulled up to Pete and Patty’s farm and slammed the truck door closed. Inside the barn, I scanned the vastly bare floors and shelves.Damn… The crew had made a ton of progress in the last few days. Besides a pile of tools, a large table saw, and a few scattered miscellaneous items, the barn was nearly empty.Outsideof the barn may look like a machinery graveyard, but the inside was good.
I walked the floor, pushing into the planks to check its stability. No matter the filth and cracks, it wasn’t actually in as rough of shape as I’d originally thought. Probably a trip hazard here or there, but hopefully decent enough where if we pried up some cracked pieces, slapped on some wood glue, or sourced a few rugs, we could call it good.
“Morgan?” My voice bounced against the empty walls. “Morgan?”
Silence met me until the faint sound of grunting and footsteps crunching over twigs approached. When Morgan appeared in the barn door, her overalls dusty, her cheek stained with a fresh line of dirt, and fumbling carrying a wooden box, I couldn’t stop my smile.God, she’s cute.
“Do you know how to use a table saw?” Morgan asked as she dropped the box on to the ground with a thud.
No “hello.” No “sorry, it’s been weird for a few days.” No “thanks for coming.” Just, “can you use a table saw?” I wished I were surprised. But, maybe it was for the best. Was I ready for a deep, heart-to-heart conversation, where we dove into what happened in our past, why I never mentioned Savannah, and more importantly what the hell was this rush taking over me every time I looked at her? No. “A table saw? Um, yes, I do. But it’s been a very long time since I’ve used one and I don’t feel like losing a thumb. Why?”
“’Cause…this!” Morgan pointed to the pallets in a corner with a wide grin.
A wide, powerful grin, and it was damn near infectious. In my line of business, I wasn’t immune to the power of the pallet. Dressers, tables, sometimes even a bedframe was made with the material. But I saw the beautyafter… It was hard for me to picture it more than being a pile of dirty wood in its current state.
“Take a look at this.” Morgan dug out a dusty glass bottle from a wooden case. “I found this while antiquing with Sam.”
I chuckled. “Sam antiques? Not sure if he’s leveled up or downgraded in the cool factor. I need to process and let you know.”
“I’m sure he’ll eagerly await your decision.” Morgan tugged on my arm and dropped her hand as quickly as she reached out. I kind of wish she’d put it back. She marched to the back of the barn, her hips swaying with each step. “Anyway, I found these really cool old milk jugs and paired them up with these candles I already had. Then I swung by Delilah’s flower shop and grabbed these, and… what do you think?”
What did I think? I thought I could shoot this for a spread forBirch & Willow. Among the chaos of clipped flowers, eucalyptus, small rocks, and averysplintered chunk of pallet, lay a perfect place setting. Rustic and artsy. Beautiful and simple, yetlayered and complex. Earth-colored pebbles filled an old-school milk jug. Lavender, sage, and cream-colored roses tucked in the middle of a few stems of eucalyptus, all nested on a bed of pallets.
“So obviously, the pallet wood needs to be cut, sanded, maybe even stained. And the jar would sit on it just so…” Morgan adjusted the jar resting on the tilted wood and pushed the candle next to it. “Anyway so, that’s my idea.”
It didn’t take a PhD in human emotion to know the blush sweeping Morgan’s cheeks and rushed words were a clear indication she was seeking approval. But she must know how talented she was, right? Even if she didn’t, Morgan didn’t seem like the type to need my approval.
“Morgan.” I dipped my head to look into those expectant Caribbean-blue eyes. “This is incredible. Truly. It’s perfect. Damn, I wish I would’ve brought my camera.”
Now an even deeper blush and wider smile grew. Morgan grabbed a pair of work gloves and tossed them at me. “Okay, so I think we keep with this whole pallet theme,” she said. “We’re in a raw, un-remodeled barn and I say we lean into that space. These pallets will hold all the centerpieces, and we can use the same wood to build a side table. Oh! We can also build a pallet wall-shelf-type thing…we’ll have small flowerpots with guests’ names on it…with phrases about letting love grow, growing with love, something like that. You get the picture. Then, on the side we can…”
As Morgan monologued for the next four million hours, I followed her every direction. I pulled in pallets, dug through the mammoth amount of tools for nails, hammers, and a sander. And even though I really didn’t want to lose a limb, one of the crew members showed me how to use the table saw, and I started cutting pieces for the centerpiece. The work was so invigorating, I didn’t realize how many hours had passed until my belly rumbled.
Morgan was bent over a table, living fully in the “elbow grease” motto, her ass wiggling as she pushed the sandpaper across the wood. With how grimy Morgan was from today’s activities, the action shouldn’t have been quite as hot as it was. But damn it, I took way too long of a look at the curved, juicy backside, and when Morgan abruptly stopped and stared, I 100 percent felt like I got caught.
“Was that your stomach?” Morgan wiped her hand on a cloth.
“Yeah, sorry.”Be cool. It was just a damn look.“I didn’t eat much before I got here.”
Morgan bit the inside of her lip and glanced at her watch. “God, I didn’t realize it was so late. Um… I have a half-bag of mini-doughnuts from the festival today and some Cheetos in the trunk.”
I smiled. “Sounds like a perfect dinner.”
Outside, the golden sun inched lower as magenta brushed the sky. After hosing our hands down, I flopped next to Morgan against the massive cedar, which was quickly becoming my favorite break spot.
After talking all day, but not saying much, now should be the time. I opened my mouth to broach the inevitable subject but crunched into a Cheeto. Seriously, I just needed to address this, but where to start?Howto start? “Her name is Savannah.”
