Chapter 40 040
MORGAN
“I don’t like him,” I said again.
The lie came out fast. Clean. Practiced. Like I’d rehearsed it in my head long before she ever opened her mouth. I didn’t even look at her when I said it. Kept my eyes on the chicken we were seasoning, fingers slick with marinade as I tossed the pieces around the bowl like dinner was the only thing that mattered.
It wasn’t.
Inside my chest, my heart was doing cartwheels—loud, reckless ones that crashed into my ribs and refused to settle. The kind that made it hard to breathe if I thought about them for too long.
To be honest, I liked Aaron.
A lot.
I’d liked him from the very first meeting, the day I tried to get him to sign a contract with Emily’s bakery. He’d walked into the conference room wearing that perfectly tailored suit—dark, understated, expensive without trying to be flashy.
And that smile.
Slow. Knowing. The kind that made your stomach dip even when you told yourself not to notice.
He listened while I talked about numbers and projections and growth plans. Actually listened. Not the polite nodding men do when they’re waiting for you to finish so they can talk over you. He asked questions. Good ones. Smart ones. The kind that told me he’d read every page of the proposal and hadn’t just skimmed the highlights.
When he signed the deal, he looked right at me and said, “You’re good at this, Morgan. Really good.”
I’d been gone ever since.
But men like Aaron always come with fine print.
They want you—but they don’t want labels.
He proved that one night after drinks. A rooftop bar downtown. City lights glittering below us, music humming low, alcohol softening the edges of everything. He leaned in close, voice warm and careless, like what he was about to say wasn’t going to rearrange something inside me.
“I can’t get you off my mind,” he said. “So how about this: I fuck you, and I pay you. No strings. No expectations. Just… relief.”
I’d laughed in his face.
Actually laughed. Sharp and incredulous. Told him exactly where he could put his money. Walked out without looking back. Blocked his number for a week.
He called anyway.
Apologized. Said he was an idiot. Said he didn’t know how else to say he wanted me without sounding like an asshole.
I unblocked him.
We’d been circling each other ever since. Late-night texts that stopped just short of confession. Lingering looks during meetings. His hand brushing mine when he passed me coffee, like it was an accident even though we both knew it wasn’t.
But never anything real.
Never anything named.
“Are you with me, Mo?”
Emily’s voice cut through the memory, gentle but alert. I looked up and realized I’d been stirring the marinade for far too long.
I went red immediately. “Of course I’m with you.”
She gave me a look—one of those quiet, searching ones that said she could see straight through me if she tried hard enough—but she didn’t push. Just nodded and picked up the tray.
“Okay then. Let’s take this out.”
I grabbed the bowl and followed her to the dining table. She brought out the fruit juice we’d squeezed earlier—mango and pineapple, bright and cold, beads of condensation sliding down the glass pitcher. We set everything down just as Zara’s laughter floated in from the living room.
It was the good kind of laughter. Loud. Unfiltered. The kind that filled a space and made it feel warm.
“Come eat, you three!” Emily called.
Ryan appeared first, carrying Zara on his hip. She was mid-story, arms flailing as she talked about the remote-control car Aaron had bought her, clearly reliving every dramatic crash.
Ryan listened like it was the most important thing in the world. That soft, focused look on his face—the one he only ever wore around her. Like she was explaining the meaning of life and he didn’t want to miss a word.
Aaron followed behind them, smiling easily, eyes already on Zara.
They sat down. Zara wedged perfectly between Ryan and Aaron. Me and Emily across from them.
The table felt full in the best way.
Forks clinked. Zara told the same story three times because she wanted everyone to hear how the car went “zoom-zoom” and crashed into Daddy’s leg. Ryan played along, clutching his thigh dramatically. Aaron added explosion noises that made Zara dissolve into giggles.
Emily smiled. Small. Real. Tired—but happy.
I watched her watch them.
She looked at Ryan the way I used to look at Aaron before I learned better. Like hope was something fragile she was holding with both hands.
“You okay?” I asked quietly.
She nodded. “Yeah. Just… happy.”
I reached across the table and squeezed her hand under it.
After dinner, Zara insisted—insisted—on showing everyone her dollhouse. Again. Ryan and Aaron followed her to the living room without complaint, dropping to the floor like overgrown kids while she directed them with absolute authority.
“Princess Lila sleeps here,” she announced. “No—Daddy, not there. There.”
Emily and I stayed back, clearing plates.
I bumped her shoulder lightly. “You still like him.”
She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “I don’t know, Mo.”
“You know,” I said gently. “You’re just in denial.”
She looked down at the sink, hands submerged in soapy water. “I’m trying to avoid him.”
I dried a plate slowly. “Just go with the flow, okay?”
She nodded. “Thank you.”
I glanced toward the living room. Aaron caught my eye for half a second—warm, easy smile—then went right back to making ridiculous explosion sounds while Zara drove the car into his leg.
My chest tightened.
Later, after celebrating Zara properly and saying our goodbyes, we stepped outside.
That was when my car decided to betray me.
The engine sputtered like it was trying to make an effort. Coughed once, sharp and pathetic. Then died completely. Silence followed—thick, humiliating silence.
I turned the key again. Nothing.
“Seriously?” I muttered, slapping the steering wheel like that might intimidate it into compliance.
Emily hovered beside me, concern written all over her face. “It was fine when you got here.”
“Yeah,” I said dryly. “It likes to humiliate me in public.”
Ryan chuckled from a few steps back, Zara already half-asleep in his arms. Emily sighed, then turned to Aaron.
“Could you drop her off?” she asked gently. “I’d drive her but—”
“Sure,” Aaron said without hesitation.
Too easily. Too smoothly.
I straightened, pride flaring on instinct. “I don’t want to be a bother.”
Aaron met my eyes, calm and steady, like this was the simplest thing in the world. “It’s totally fine,” he said, already reaching into his pocket for his keys. No fuss. No awkwardness. Just certainty.
That somehow made it worse.
We stood there for a moment under the soft glow of the porch light, the night air cool against my skin. Emily hugged me tightly. “Text me when you get home.”
“I will.”
Ryan gave me a quick smile. “Thanks for coming tonight.”
Zara waved sleepily from Aaron’s arms. “Bye, Auntie Mo.”
My chest tightened. “Bye, sweetheart.”