Page 79 of Grease Monkey
Teddy locks up and leans against the door, his dark eyes raking down my body as he plays with his lower lip with the fingers he had inside me. He smirks, inclining his head slightly as he looks at my phone, and I immediately look to the ground.
“Morgana?” Richard asks.
“Oh, sorry, love you too,” I stutter out as quickly as possible, hanging up as soon as I’ve said goodbye.
Teddy shoves from the wall, stiff and tight, as he walks toward me, the smell of motor oil and gasoline becoming stronger with each step. The smirk that tugged at his lips has slipped, and his intense stare isn’t like the way he looked at me in the shop. It’s cold and unyielding, and I can see it… the torment that lives there when he looks at me. He wants to hate me, wants to make me suffer, and maybe, that’s what he’s done. Guilt is an unbearable thing to live with—I would know. It’s been embedded in me from the moment I pressedSend. But to be with one man while bound to another… He wouldn’t have done it as some game. Would he?
“Teddy…?” I whisper, needing to know why he touched me, when right now, he looks like he wouldn’t go near me if I were the last woman on earth. “Why…”
“Go home, Morgana,” he says scathingly, and I hate how much I hate how my name sounds on his lips. “I’ll let you know when your car’s ready.”
Two weeks pass, and my car’s still not fixed.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Morgana
“Here are the files from 2013 you wanted, Ms. Adler.” An associate puts five thick blue notebooks on my desk in the little office that’s been mine since I arrived, smiling politely. “Do you need anything else before I head for lunch?”
I shake my head. Taking my pen out of my mouth, I say, “That should be good for today. Thanks again…” I’m about to say his name when I realize I cannot remember it. Bobby? Joshua? No idea, so I suck my lips between my teeth and awkwardly wait for him to leave me to my work. I’ve reviewed three years’ worth of documents—completely old school, no digital files or anything—and everything seems to be in order so far. Closing the final page for 2012, I pull one of the 2013 binder closer and run my hand over the cover. The blue fabric texture is rough under my fingers, and it smells musty, not quite like the old historical books with yellowing paper that have that distinct earth smell, but you can tell they have been kept in a dark room and forgotten about until now.
Opening a new tab on my spreadsheet, I open the cover and flick a couple of pages in as my phone skitters across the table, dancing in time with the vibrations of an incoming call.
I grin and slide my thumb across the screen. “Hello, my lovely.”
“I think I’ve got food poisoning.”
I sit up straight and lean on the table. “Oh no, are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine and don’t have food poisoning.” Shay huffs. “But I wish I did. If I have to go to another new Italian restaurant opening, I might throw up at the sight of pizza or pasta.”
“Such a drama queen.”
“I know, which is exactly why I’m calling. You on your lunch break?” I check the time on the bottom right of my laptop screen, holding in a sigh as I already know what’s coming next. “Morgs, you better be taking breaks. I know you and your bad habit of working straight through.”
I laugh and push my chair away from my desk, hoping it will force me to take a break.
“Want to FaceTime, and we can have a pretend lunch date?” she asks, and I hear the beep in my ear, indicating she’s switched to a video call. “There’s my gorgeous best friend. I’ve missed you, babe.”
And like that, my guilt, anxiety, fear, dread—at this point, it would be quicker to name the emotions I’m not feeling—disappear into the backdrop of my mind as Shay’s blue eyes and a wide smile fill my display. Propping my phone against my laptop, I angle it so she can see me, and I take out the food I brought on the off chance I got too hungry and needed to eat.
“I’ve missed you too. It’s been so lonely without you.”
“Good. Remember that if you ever think of leaving me again,” she says, pointing her finger at the camera. “Catch me up. What’s been happening? It’s been nearly a month since you arrived. How are things?”
I take a deep breath and nod my head in that way that’s not quite a nod but not exactly a shake either. “Things have been good. Work has been busy but manageable, which is great. There’s not been anything untoward I’ve found so far, and my bosses seem to be…”
“Okay, sorry, Morgs, but I don’t care about your work. It’s boring and dull, and I need to get ready for this stupid opening, not falling asleep because of your poor choice in career.”
“Ouch, Shay. Tell me how you really feel.” I smile because, even though she does think those things, she doesn’t mean it maliciously. I like math and business, while she likes snails and escargot. We can’t all be the same.
“Sorry, but I am dying to know…” She looks around—from what I can see through the tiny screen—her empty kitchen, and leans in conspiratorially. “How are things with Teddy? Still being an asshole, or is he a nice Teddy Bear right now?”
I run a finger under my eye, avoiding the screen while I get myself under control. The mere mention of his name and I’m all flustered, getting unbearably hot in the over-airconditioned room, and I know my neck is flushing right up to my chin.
“He’s fine,” I say, my voice croaking. “He’s still got my car. No surprise there. And our texts are short and not very often.”
“Ooh, texts. Tell me more.”
