Page 28 of Tying the Knot
ChapterTwenty
Morgan
A coupleof days have passed since I kissed Dylan. I’ve barely left my nest, not even to shower. I grimace as I stretch and hear last night’s room service plate thump to the floor. I feel like I have wallowed enough, and now I need to get up and try to move on with my life. The first thing, after a shower, is to do some laundry. I Google it quickly and see that there is one not far from the Spar supermarket I went to when I first arrived. The next things on my to-do list are slightly more difficult to come to terms with.
I have to find somewhere else to stay. This hotel is costing me more than a few hundred quid, and I can’t waste any more of it. I need to find a flat that I can move into immediately, and also a job. Maybe the other way around. I’m not sure how this works. I went from my parent's house to the pack house, so living on my own is something I’ve never done. I’ve also never worked outside of the babysitting jobs I did when I was a teenager and a young adult. I have no idea what I’m good at, or even where to start. All I know is that I can’t stay here.
I stand up and take charge. I’m an adult, and I can do this. The sooner I can wean myself off Jeremy’s funds, the better. He’s been trying to ring me, but I’ve ignored him. It’s not personal, really, I just don’t want to speak to anyone.
I pass by the dresser and catch a glimpse of the card Dylan left with his numbers on. I can’t decide if it is sweet or wishful thinking. Or both. He is a really great kisser, and I know there’s something there, but knowing and pursuing are two entirely different things. I don’t think I’m ready.
* * *
After a thorough shower, I search through the dressing table for a hairdryer and to my luck, I find one. Clean and dry, I feel like, well, less than a million bucks, but better than a quid, so I’ll take it.
Getting dressed after my hair is dry and sort of styled, as the hairdryer leaves a lot to be desired, but beggars can’t be choosers, and I left mine at the house in Kensington, I open the wardrobe and pull out the holdall. I scowl at the box and slam the doors closed, wishing I could decide what to do about it already. Something in my gut is telling me to keep hold of it, and not just in case the pack get out of jail and come for it.
I stuff my dirty clothes into the bag and put my coat on. It poured down last night and then froze, so I know the pavements will be icy, but I don’t have anything besides my trainers. I’ll have to tread carefully.
I stuff my hat on my head, wincing when I think about my hair, but shrug it off as a necessity. I wrap my scarf around the lower part of my face and shove the cheap sunglasses on. Looking entirely unrecognisable to anyone who knows me, I pick up my phone, the keycard, and the bank card, placing them in my coat pocket, and then scoop up the bag. Heading out the door, I feel the nerves hit my stomach, but I power through, knowing this conscious first step to my new life will be the hardest. Before, I was acting on instinct, now everything is clear.
I cast my gaze around the hotel reception, which is fairly busy with morning traffic and slip out unnoticed. As soon as my feet hit the pavement, I go skidding. Perhaps after the laundry, I should check out some shoe shops and buy some boots with a good tread on them. Or I could go back home and pick mine up…
Home.
Home, no longer.
No, it’s out of the question. If I even think about going back, I won’t move forward. New boots it is, regardless, that I’m reluctant to spend any more of Jeremy’s money than I have to.
I steady myself and look down, making sure to step where the pavement looks less slippery. The crunch of the ice under my feet is an indication of whether I’m going to go skating or not, so I step forward slowly, staring at my feet.
Startled out of my progress when a loud car honks its horn, I look up, my heart pounding. Glaring in annoyance at the arsehole in question, I keep moving, only for my foot to cruise out from under me, and I go sliding across the pavement, somehow managing to stay on my feet and not hit the deck hard.
It’s only when a hand reaches out to grab me under my elbow that I come to a halt, gasping and light-headed with the shock.
I freeze as the hand tightens.
I close my eyes.
Please, please, don’t let it be Adam.
“Morgan Happs?” a deep voice that sounds somewhat familiar echoes all around me in my panic.
I turn my head to stare into the amused, forest-green eyes of Commander Christmas Candle as his grip on my arm tightens further.
“No,” I bleat and yank my arm out of his grasp, turning to scurry away as fast as the icy pavement will let me.
Which is about the pace of a snail but also sends me skidding in my trainers past a lamppost. I flail my arms wildly, grasping for anything solid, but I topple over onto my arse, landing in a wet pile of slush on the side of the road.
ChapterTwenty-One
Morgan
The cold,wet slush is seeping up to my waist, and my coat and scarf were covered in a thick, icy coating. I shiver and glance around, embarrassed to have been dumped in such an awkward position. I had been so careful to take small steps, yet I had still slipped right into this mess, thanks to triple C and his cronies.
To make matters worse, my hat has fallen off in the process, and I feel exposed and vulnerable. My heart begins to race as I struggle to get up from the cold, wet slush. I try to push myself up, but my shoes keep slipping on the icy surface.
“Easy there,” C-cubed says, placing his hands under my armpits to help me up.
