She was always able to rationalize it and she had never fully invested herself to begin with given that she knew it wasn’t what she wanted. She wanted her career. If that was thriving, she didn’t really have time for anything else to thrive. She was always honest about that, and the women she’d dated all thought they could handle it, and all changed their minds.
But Morgun? Morgun was different. Laney cared about Morgun in a way that she’d never been able to care about someone else. There was something about Morgun that had immediately dug its way under skin and kept burrowing straight to her heart. Kind of like a porcupine quill or blood poisoning. But better.
People said that caring was better. Emotions. Even love. But was it? Look at the mess most people made of their lives. Look at the way they hurt other people and hurt themselves. It was just so much easier to stick with having a career and enjoying that.
Except that Laney had to admit that she hadn’t felt that way these past couple weeks. Not since Christmas. Okay, not since Jason’s wedding. She kept trying to lie to herself, kept trying to water down that feeling, and she kept failing. When she was with Morgun, she could be herself. She didn’t have to be tough. She could be affectionate. She could let herself dream of something beyond a job and an empty house each night. Morgun blindsided her. Morgun was like the kind of car crash that changes a person’s life forever.
Laney knew it wasn’t fair and it wasn’t right to give Morgun hope, but she herself had started to have hope, and that’s why she couldn’t just end things. She didn’t want to end things. She didn’t want to stop seeing Morgun. She didn’t want to stop caring about her. She couldn’t stop caring about her.
She just couldn’t stand here and admit it. It was too soon. Maybe one day. Maybe, if she didn’t ruin everything by then. Maybe, if Morgun could be patient with her and give her time to work through the mess in her head. Maybe, if Morgun let Laney take those baby steps, she’d eventually be able to walk and run.
It made Laney feel even more guilty that she was just standing there, listening to her co-workers talking about normal work crap while she had so much going on inside. She wanted to blurt out that she was a liar. That she wasn’t tough. That she had something going on with her that completely terrified her. That she did care about Morgun. More than she’d ever cared about another woman. That Morgun made her want things that she’d given up on wanting. No, that she’d always told herself she didn’t want because she just didn’t know how to make it work with what used to matter most.
Used to. As in, past tense. She wanted to set them straight, tell them that things did bother her. That she wasn’t untouchable. That the things she laughed off most of the time did wound her. That she did have a heart and that it beat hardest of all when she was with Morgun. When she thought about Morgun. Which was all the time. She thought about Morgun always, whether it was just subconscious or not.
She wanted to say all those things, but instead she just stood there.
And then, of course, Doug couldn’t let it go. Because she was still standing there, and so was he, like she wanted to talk about it.
“I still think you should go for it,” Doug said again.
“I’m too busy,” Laney mumbled. “And I would never get involved with a co-worker.”
“She just works casually.”
“Still. I’m just too busy. And that’s just inviting things to turn into a big mess. I hate drama, and drama in the workplace is a thousand times worse. Plus, I really am happy being single. I don’t need the added complications.”
“Complications!” Doug hooted. “Jeez. You really haven’t met the right person if that’s how you think of it.”
Laney wanted to snap out something about Doug telling her what everyone else was constantly telling her, and why couldn’t anyone be original anymore, but she swallowed down the nasty, reactive words, and instead just smiled and shook her head and helped herself to another cup of coffee.
She doubted she could choke it down.
People told her that she hadn’t met the right person yet. Morgun had said that herself. They were right and wrong. She hadn’t met the right person before. But now, she felt like she had, and things still weren’t any easier. Maybe it wasn’t meant to be easy. Maybe that was the point, but Laney couldn’t deny the creeping terror and panic when she truly admitted to herself what she felt.
Her hand shook so hard that the coffee sloshed in her cup, and when she passed her co-workers to walk out of the lunchroom a few minutes later, her smile felt all wrong and wobbly.
Chapter 26
Morgun
To say that Morgun was freaking out was a massive understatement. She felt wrecked. Ruined. She’d been in the hallway, ready to go into the lunchroom to get herself a cup of coffee before she met with a new potential client. She was early because she was nervous, and she still had forty minutes to kill before the meeting. Coffee seemed like a good idea.
It turned out to be the worst idea.
Eve
n from down the hall, she’d heard the voices. Laney’s. Others. She’d heard everything they were talking about. She’d heard, clearly and plainly as possible, Laney say that they weren’t dating. That they weren’t anything.
Somehow she’d sat through the meeting, going through the motions with a client who somehow was still inspired to hire her, though Morgun had no idea why—her work, she guessed, and not her wonderful, vivacious personality. As soon as she got back to the safety of her apartment, she’d let her tears flow.
She hated that she was crying, but she was angry, and upset, and she couldn’t help herself. She’d texted Laney immediately, asking if she could go over some edits with her. She knew for sure that Laney had the evening free. She felt like a liar. Like she was tricking Laney, so right after, she’d sent a text asking if they could talk.
Laney responded, saying she’d be free at seven.
So Morgun waited. And waited. The wait was even worse than ever. This time, instead of anticipation, she just felt a sick, creeping dread that saturated every part of her being.
Seven came, regardless of the fact that even the seconds felt like an eternity. It came too soon, and the dread only worsened, clamping down on Morgun’s stomach and chest and even her legs as soon as the buzzer rang.