“I missed you, mom.”
“Well, if you missed me so much then you should move back here permanently.” I force myself not to groan out loud at the same thing she says to me every time we speak.
“They need me in California, mom.” I purposely avoid my father’s gaze, because he’s the only one who knows that that’s a crock of shit. I chose to go to LA because it came at the perfect time for me to escape after everything happened with Morgan. Of course me leaving was probably the stupidest thing I could have done, but I convinced myself it was what needed to be done. And I’ve spent the past eleven months regretting it.
“Yeah yeah.” Thankfully, she drops the subject and goes back to prepping dinner while I take a seat at the table with dad. It’s another twenty minutes before Juliet finally arrives and we all sit down to eat.
The one thing I’ve always loved about my parents house, is how low-key it is. It never mattered how much money we had, my folks instilled in Jules and I that money isn’t actually what makes you rich. We have plenty of family members who believe that money makes them more important than everyone else. It’s why when Juliet found out they were coming to visit for the holidays, she called and begged me to come home so she didn’t have to deal with them alone. Of course, I have my own reasons for coming home.
“So Jules, did you want to come with me Friday morning to get ready for the party?” I can’t help but chuckle at my mothers question. As humble as she might be, she does love getting dressed up for fancy parties. She goes all out and makes an entire day out of it. Spa, salon, the whole thing.
“That would be fun. I’ll see if Morgan wants to do that. I think we were just going to get ready at my place, but a spa is always better.”
I practically choke when I hear her best friend's name, and I try really hard to keep my cool when I ask, “Morgan is coming to the party?”
Of course I knew she would be invited since she’s a client. But I figured she wouldn’t go, at least not if she knows I’ll be there.
“Yes.” The glare my sister gives me makes it very clear that she still hasn’t forgiven me for what happened, not that I can blame her. She was hesitant about me starting something with Morgan in the first place. I don’t even know if she’ll believe me when I tell her the truth. It’s something I’ve gone back and forth on doing. A part of me feels like I should just let it go and allow them both to believe what they do. Then there’s another part of me that still believes that Morgan is the only woman out there for me, and I want to do anything and everything I can to make her believe the truth and forgive me.
Instead of responding to Juliet, I just nod my head a couple times and go back to my cheesy potatoes and pot roast. A plan begins to form in my mind, and as much as I want to get my sister on board with me, I have to figure out exactly how to do that without activating her protective instinct over her best friend. She let her guard down once, I highly doubt she’d do it again without some serious groveling. And knowing my sister, that means I really have my work cut out for me. But if Morgan is the prize? Then I’m up for the challenge.
CHAPTERTHREE
Morgan
Ilook at the clock, surprised with myself at how badly I just want to leave today. I usually love being at my store, it’s my happy place. But for some reason, today I’m restless. All I want to do is go home, cuddle on the couch, and watch Die Hard. Sure, it may not be your typical Christmas movie, and that’s why I love it. I’ll sit and watch John McClane kick ass all day, every day.
I look at the time, calculating if I can get away with closing three hours early. There was a time that I never would have even considered closing my store early, but right now I feel so overwhelmed with emotions I’m not even sure I fully understand right now.
Deciding that it’s okay for me to take a little time for myself every once in a while, I begin the process of closing by organizing my product, and sweeping the floor. I’m just finishing sweeping up everything off of the floor when the bell over the door rings. As soon as I look up, the dustpan in my hand falls to the floor with a loud crash, causing the trash and dirt in it to go flying everywhere.
"Wh- what are you doing here?" I hate how small and unsure my voice sounds right now. I've worked very hard over the past year to exude the level of confidence needed when you're a curvy girl in this world.
I instinctively step back when Bryce steps further into my shop. My body thrums with a variant of emotions as I try so hard not to let my eyes roam over him and the way his forest green sweater is clinging to his muscular chest and broad shoulders. I don't even have to look to know that his pants are hugging his thighs perfectly because they always do. Of course, looking into his deep green eyes that are only made bright by his sweater, isn’t exactly helping my heart rate either. I never understood why Bryce was even interested in me to begin. Though in the end it didn't actually matter, since he proved that I couldn't hold his interest for very long.
"I was hoping we could talk." His deep, gravelly voice has goosebumps popping up all over my skin. I haven’t heard his voice in over a year and I hate the reaction I’m having to it. He shouldn’t have this power over me. Not anymore.
An all too familiar instinct rises in me at his request, pushing me to give this man anything he asks for. To give in and be the doormat I never realized I was. It’s something I spent too many years in the past doing and it’s exactly what led me to getting my heart completely shattered last year. I won’t let it happen again.
When I open my mouth to give in on pure instinct alone, the memory that flashes in my head luckily has my mouth working in my favor.
“We have nothing to talk about.” I quickly look away, not wanting to see the dejected look that crosses his features. He doesn’t deserve my sympathy.
“Please, Morg. I want to explain-” His dark hair falls over his forehead when he shifts. It’s longer than it was last year, the waves more prominent and only work to really accentuate his sharp jaw and piercing eyes. All of which I do my best to ignore right now.
“You’ve had a year to explain, Bryce, but you chose not to.”
“It’s complicated.”
“I don’t care.” Without giving him a chance to say anything else, I brush past him, forcing myself not to inhale his familiar scent of mint and spice, and pull the door open. He just stands there staring at me for a moment, so I make a sweeping motion with my hand clearly indicating that it’s time for him to leave.
His mouth opens and closes a couple times, and I wait, expecting him to say something else. Bryce Richardson has never been one to back down when he wants something. After a moment, his mouth closes completely and he shakes his head before walking past me and out of the store.
I let out a long breath, trying not to feel too dejected about the fact that he didn’t fight more. It’s what’s best for me. And like I said, Bryce Richardson has never been one to back down easily when he wants something. Clearly he doesn’t want me. It’s something I learned a year ago, but having it confirmed even after all this time still hurts. It hurts a lot.
* * *
I don’t even recognizethe person staring back at me. My dark blond hair is flowing down around my shoulders in large curls and the right side is pulled away from my ear and neck, held with a simple diamond studded beret. My make-up is subtle, but the golden hues compliment my skin tone and hazel eyes perfectly.