Page 66 of The Ex Effect
“No,” I whispered. It was the truth. My head was pounding, my mouth was dry, my body fatigued. The only thing I wantedto do was to curl up onto Morgan and have Morgan tell me everything would be okay.
Morgan dragged me to the couch and sat down. I hesitated. I was emotionally drained, wanted to rest, but also needed movement. My limbs were bursting with energy, even though my brain was tired. When Morgan crisscrossed her legs and pulled her overstuffed fuzzy pillow into her chest, I exhaled and slid in next to her.
“What happened?” Morgan asked, her voice soft.
Where do I even begin? How do I explain that I took a mental inventory of my entire life from when I was the happiest, to the saddest, from the most fulfilled to the most restless?Or talk about the ping-ponging thoughts, my brain bouncing from past to current to future in no random order, making me dizzy? How my entire life I’d been running and searching, not knowing what it was that gave me the fulfillment I needed.
And I was still chasing. I could feel the tug in me, which swirled the thoughts, but when I was around Morgan, everything quieted. Stilled. I could breathe in a way that I hadn’t been able to breathe before. “When I left last time, I knew it was the right decision,” I finally said, tugging at my jeans. “It hurt like hell, but there was no doubt in my mind I was making the right decision.”
Morgan’s eyebrows knitted. We both knew this was the truth, but saying it out loud like this probably didn’t feel good for her to hear. But she needed to hear everything, to understand, to be onboard with what I knew was best.
“But this time, it felt so different.” I shifted to face Morgan. Oh, those sweet eyes, that soft mouth looking at me like that. Expectant, holding her breath, waiting on my words. I was both so nervous and so calm, and the confusing messages flickered in my brain. “This time, I had so much doubt about what I’m doing, what’s best for me, what’s best for you…and leaving now is not the right decision.”
Morgan’s breath hitched. She bit the corner of her lip and shook her head. “It is, though, right? Isn’t accepting this incredible job and moving back to New York the best thing for you? You’ve worked for years for this. A lifetime, really. This chance will not come around again.”
Three months ago, I thought that same thing. When theBirch & Willowopportunity came up, I even did some of the foo-foo manifesting stuff that Quinn was into. I wanted the jobso badI could taste it. Images had flashed of myself on location, hunkered down in front of a massive computer screen to edit, sitting in the ultra-trendy corporate office with other creatives storyboarding about a new campaign. I just knew this was where I was meant to be. But now…I couldn’t picture any of it without Morgan. Everything was clouded and dimmed without her there to share this with.
Could I do this alone? Yes. But I didn’t want to. I knew what I wanted, who I wanted, and a job was secondary. “If it was the right decision, then why am I so sick over it?” I asked. “Why is the thought of leaving here, leaving you, tearing me up so much?”
“But this opportunity…”
God, I could look into those Caribbean-blue eyes all day. I could watch Morgan iron her clothes and eat her turkey sandwiches, feel her body next to me at night and soak in her feistiness for eternity. I could read Morgan’s emails and texts, and follow her color-coded calendar, and take her to get daily ice cream, and dance with her in the kitchen in the morning.
“It’s a dream job. It really is. Everything I’ve worked for my whole adult life.” I rested my head on the back of the couch. Quivers started in my chin. I stared at the ceiling and filled my lungs to stop the tremors. When Morgan touched my hand, holding me, the shakes slowed. “Butyou, you are my dream partner.” I swiped my thumb on Morgan’s silky cheek. “You are the person I want to be with forever. Not taking this job makesme sad, kinda nervous, a little unsure about what my next plan is. But not having you in my life…that’s breaking my heart. The idea of not waking up next to you makes me feel like my soul is being ripped from my body and trampled on the floor.”
Morgan’s eyes welled with tears. Her mouth parted with anoh, but no words came out.
“You are my anchor, my sanity, Morgan,” I continued. “I can’t lose you. Iwon’tlose you.”
Morgan held my hand pressed against her cheek, her chest flushing with pink. “You can’t give up your dreams for me, Frankie. You just can’t. I love you too much to let you do that.”
Morgan didn’t hear the intention in my voice, didn’t fully understand. But sitting here, my gut settled, the nagging, biting sensation eased. My heart filled, my spirits lifted, my mind cleared.Thiswas where I was meant to be. I had a lifetime to show Morgan I wasn’t giving up my dream of working atBirch & Willow forMorgan. I was giving them up for myself.
“Ididn’tgive up my dreams for you. I swapped them for something better.” I cupped Morgan’s face, held her with all the intention and promise in the world, and pressed my lips to Morgan. “I traded them for a life with you.”
EPILOGUE
FOUR MONTHS LATER
I tapped out the last email for the day, letting Zoey know to increase the cupcake count by another three dozen for an investment firm’s holiday event I was coordinating.Oof. What a day. Who knew that Olivia’s family had such an endless amount of connections? Once Olivia’s mom saw the magic we pulled off in such a short amount of time, she tossed my name out to everyone. For the first time in years, I had to turn down a job.
A steaming cup of tea and a plate of cookies were calling my name. I dug through the cupboard to find a mug when my phone rang. I raced back to the desk and my heart skipped a beat at Frankie’s name on the other line.
Almost four months had passed since Frankie showed up at my place. Time fluctuated between slogging when Frankie was gone to racing at the speed of light when she was home. Even though Frankie had been traveling for less than a week this past week, I was aching for her to return.
“You know only true sociopaths call first without texting,” I said as I lowered onto a barstool.
“Tell me we’re past that stage.” Frankie laughed. “Just letting you know I’m coming home tomorrow instead of Friday.”
“No way!” I didn’t know my voice could squeak that loud. “Really? What happened?”
Frankie told me about finishing a shoot early and being able to work late last night with the editorial team to finish a creative review. She barely took a breath while no doubt scrambling to stuff anything she could into her multiple suitcases. Each trip out to New York, Frankie brought an extra set of empty luggage with her to pack more and more of her stuff to bring back home.
Home. In Spring Harbors. Sometimes, I wanted to pinch myself.
“Do not touch the Christmas tree,” Frankie said when she finally paused. “I want to be there to put it up.”
Oops. But Frankie couldn’t be serious, right? Thanksgiving was almost a week ago. I had that baby up the second I polished off the last bite of turkey at Sam’s house. “Umm…”
