Page 62 of The Ex Effect
Panic seized me. No, this was a bad idea. Maybe I could stay and we’d set up a house, and adopt some dogs, and plant a vegetable garden in the backyard and everything would be okay. Morgan could have her business and I could…. Ugh. What could I do? Hang on her coattails like the last time we were together? I knew I couldn’t give this opportunity up. I’d regret it for the rest of my life.
But I couldn’t give up Morgan.Shit, shit, shit.The urge to pound my fists into the ground overtook me. God, why was this so hard? This should be the highlight of my career, and I wanted to throw up. “I don’t want to go without you.” I kneeled on the ground in front of Morgan, gripping her hands so hard I was sure I’d break her fingers. “Come with me.Please. We gave up those chances all those years ago, and I don’t want to do that again. I don’t want to regret leaving you, leaving us.”
Morgan’s hands cupped my cheeks. “I can’t,” she said, barely above a whisper.
“Please, Morgan.Please. I think you’d be okay there. You don’t have to work for a while if you don’t want to. And if you do, there are so many event places…and tons of weddingvenues…and maybe you could come on location with me… I saw everything you did for the wedding and you’d be a perfect stylist forBirch & Willowand maybe?—”
“I’m not coming with,” Morgan said with so much regret in her voice that I crumbled. “This is my home. My family is here. I won’t ever leave it.”
The tears burst from me. I cried in Morgan’s lap until I couldn’t breathe, until I was limp with fatigue. Morgan ran her fingers through my hair until my tears stopped. I knew I was grasping, but maybe if I said the right thing, Morgan would change her mind. “Maybe…maybe I should turn down the job. Tell them I made a mistake when I accepted.”
Tears slid down Morgan’s cheeks. She swiped the top of her hand under her chin to catch the drops. “An opportunity like this is life-changing. Take it, Frankie. You would regret it forever if you didn’t.”
I knew this was true, but I hoped Morgan would say something different. Force me to stay so the decision didn’t rest on my shoulders. “But what happens with us?” I had to ask but already knew the answer. Long-distance relationships were nothing I ever wanted, and I couldn’t imagine Morgan wanted that, either. We each deserved more.
Morgan grinned. A sad, terrible, heart-crushing grin. “We’ll stay friends. I’ll call you without texting first. I’ll send you random messages on all your electronic devices, and I’ll stalk you on social media.” She squeezed my shoulder, her bloodshot eyes making the blue even more intense. “And I’m going to be your biggest cheerleader ever. You deserve this. Youearnedit. And you are going to absolutely kill it.”
When Morgan shifted, I released my grip. I didn’t want to stop touching Morgan, ever. But there was nowhere to go from here. The Band-Aid was ripped. And my heart was broken.
“I’m going to head out, okay? I need to shower at my ownplace, finish sleeping in my own bed.” Morgan crossed the patio to the door. “Thanks for the coffee.”
The unspoken words amplified the heaviness in the air. I knew what Morgan meant. It wasn’t a shower. It wasn’t her own bed. It was Morgan, leaving, shutting down, and protecting herself.
What have I done?
TWENTY-NINE
MORGAN
I made it all the way home, all the way into my driveway, and just about into my house when I broke down again. I kicked the door closed behind me, collapsed to my knees, and bawled into my hands.
I wanted to beg Frankie not to leave. To tell her I thought we really had a shot this time, to convince her to stay and try, and build a life together. But last time I did that, I nearly destroyed Frankie’s chances at what turned out to be a better life. And as much as it killed me, Frankie never regretted her decision back then to leave, and neither did I regret staying. Even at eighteen, we knew what was right for us.
When I said we could be friends, I meant it. Sort of. But eventually, Frankie would find someone. And when that happened, I would not be able to watch the love of my life be with someone else. People who can do that type of thing are much stronger than me. The idea of another woman holding Frankie at night made me want to throw up. But until that inevitable day came, we could try and maintain a friendship, even with my heart breaking. I didn’t want Frankie out of my life, I knew that for sure. But friendship would never be enough.
The next several hours drifted by in a daze. Minutes flew by like hours, and yet I couldn’t believe it was the afternoon before I finally dragged myself out of bed and stepped into the shower. The water did little to relieve the tension in my body. I wasn’t sure if it was from the months working in the barn, the wedding last night, or the physical pain of my heart splitting, but I almost felt worse when I stepped out.
Cozied up in my robe, I tried to read a book—something I didn’t normally have the luxury to do—but the words blurred. I slammed it shut and pulled open my laptop instead.
Emails from the last few days piled up, but I didn’t have the energy to respond. I flipped on the TV, but the images were too much for my eyes. All I wanted to do was to go back into the bed and cry it out. But even dragging myself down back to my bed felt exhausting, and I wasn’t even sure if I had tears left. I was dehydrated and dizzy with fatigue, but when I closed my eyes, I couldn’t sleep.
When my phone buzzed and I saw a message from Frankie, I couldn’t read it. Contact with her right now would just reinforce that my heartache was real. Besides, nothing she—or I—could say would change the situation. Frankie was leaving, and we would never be together.
I lifted my phone to call Sam and get some solid sibling advice, but depending upon if it was before nap time for the kids, or a rare nap time for himself, his emotional response might not be what I needed. So, I lay back in bed and put on theLove ’Em or Leave ’Empodcast.
Different callers left various messages for Ruby. One was a burnt-out mom crushing on the nanny, one a dad who asked how wrong it was to pretend to be in the garage working to avoid dishes, and one a wife supporting her spouse on a new work adventure. The question “do I clip their wings or let them fly” resonated with me. As much as it was killing me right now,at least I would never clip Frankie’s wings again. She deserved to fly.
“So, everyone, I’m doing something a little different today.” Ruby’s voice shifted, and something in the change made me crack my eyes open. “A caller left a message last week but wasn’t asking for any advice and instead offering some of their own. For whoever needs to hear this, here’s Laurie from Iowa.”
I tapped up the volume and wrapped my arms around a fuzzy pillow.
“Hi, Ruby. I’m not sure why I’m calling you, but I really needed to talk to someone. Which I understand is strange since I’m not really talking to you, just leaving a message,” the woman with a worn, tired voice started. “Last month, I lost my husband of forty-two years. He was the love of my life, the father of my children, and as the grandkids like to say, my partner in crime—although we were always pretty outstanding citizens and never even got so much as a speeding ticket.”
I smiled at the sweet woman and threaded my fingers on the pillow frays.
“We worked hard our whole life and saved for retirement. Felt like we made a lot of sacrifices for this magical retirement number, and we’d always say, ‘When we retire, let’s take the cruise,’ or ‘When we retire, let’s buy that fancy bottle of wine,’ or ‘When we retire, let’s do date nights on Wednesdays.’”
Her voice cracked and my ears perked.
