by Holly Jacobs
"Last night?" Tessa prompted.
"He kissed me."
"Kissed you on the cheek, as in, thanks for all the help?" Nikki asked.
Sunny shook her head.
"Kissed you like he meant it?" Gina pressed.
"Like he meant it. And I guess I meant it, too, because I kissed him back."
"Then I'd say, Johnny or no Johnny, you're dating," Nikki declared. "And I'm the resident dating expert here. I should know. But let's poll the table. Tessa?"
"Yes, definitely dating."
"Gina?"
"No ifs, ands or buts."
"Morgan?"
Morgan added her agreement. They teased each other, laughed as they shared the this-and-thats from their weeks.
THE HARDEST PART ABOUT LEAVING Pittsburgh would be leaving these women. Even Gina. Morgan loved her friends in San Diego, but she couldn't imagine ever finding something like this there.
She said goodbye just as she had every Sunday that she'd come to brunch. A casual see-you-soon. But she knew—and her friends knew—soon could be quite a while.
"You did good." Sunny was the last one still standing outside the diner under the awning. "I'm glad you two made up."
"Me, too."
"We're going to miss you, Morgan. I'm going to miss you. I liked having you back at the brunches, and puttering around the shop. Having you home has been wonderful."
"But I'll be back for visits. I'll make sure my trips include a Sunday."
"But it won't be quite the same."
Morgan looked through the diner's window. The waitress was clearing off the remains of their brunch. Then she looked back at Sunny. "No, it won't be quite the same. But it's time for me to go home."
They hugged and Sunny left.
Morgan stood another few moments on the sidewalk just drinking in the sights and sounds of the city.
She had an apology to give, one more goodbye to make. Then it would be time to leave.
CONNER ROLLED OVER IN BED AND threw his arm over Morgan. Rather than sleep-warmed skin, he felt fur.
Slowly he opened his eyes and found himself looking at Gilligan. The bulldog wasn't the prettiest picture at the best of times. This moment, facing the dog's less-than-optimum side, was the worst.
Conner pulled his arm back and rolled out of bed in practically one motion.
He found his way to the kitchen and spotted Morgan's note on the counter: "Brunch with my friends. Be back in a bit. Make yourself at home."
He'd just got dressed when Morgan returned.
"Morning," she said.
"Morning."
"I hope you didn't mind that I snuck out to meet my friends."
"No. I just woke up, grabbed a shower and was going to head home."
"Oh."
"I've got a lot to do. I wanted to tell you—no, I didn't want to tell you, just like I didn't want to ask about your trip. Once we've said the words. . ." He shook his head, then in a rush said, "I'm leaving next week. I've got one last reception next weekend."
"I have a job waiting in San Diego. I just have to call and accept, then make my arrangements."
"So, I imagine you've got a lot to do as well."
"Tons. I don't have much to pack. Most of my stuff is in storage in San Diego. But I have to contact a real estate agent for selling this house, and I have to book a flight."
"What day are you leaving?"
"I thought I'd head to San Diego on Friday or Saturday. I'd like to take my time finding a new place before I start work. And finding someplace that will let me have pets might be tricky."
"So it's over." This was perfect. Conner should be overjoyed things were working out so well for both of them. But for some reason, he wasn't. "It's just like we said it would be."
"We've both done exactly what we set out to do. We've got our dream jobs lined up, and we've had fun together. As busy as we're both going to be, I guess this is goodbye."
"We could do dinner or something next week," he offered.
She shook her head. "I think it's probably better if we just make a clean break right now. I'm not really into lengthy goodbyes."
He wasn't into lengthy goodbyes either, but he wasn't sure if he was ready for one this abrupt. But ready or not, he slowly nodded. "You're right. I just want to say it's been fun."
Awkward. Why did he feel so awkward?
"This is ridiculous. Come here." He held his arms out, and the tightness seemed to evaporate as Morgan walked into them. They hugged for a long time. "This has been amazing."
"Yes."
"Well, goodbye, Morgan. Good luck with the new job."
"I'll be watching the papers for your photographs. If you're ever in southern California, look me up."
"Same if you're in D.C." He opened the door, but hesitated before he walked out. "Goodbye."
"Goodbye, Conner."
Conner walked to his car. He'd never had a relationship end so amicably. He should be relieved.
Instead he felt. . .
He didn't know exactly what he felt, but it wasn't relief.
It wasn't even excitement about the new job.
His dream job, the one he'd put on hold for the last couple of years. He should be thrilled he'd heard back so quickly, that Luke was right, the job was his.
Should be. . .but wasn't quite. And he didn't have a clue why that was or what to do about it.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
E.J., I called Ellie Marx and accepted the job at Turner, Inc. I'm spending the week making my arrangements here. I've got a flight out Saturday morning. Thanks for offering a room while I apartment shop. It's good to be coming back where I belong. . .Morgan
Morgan, you're sure you know what you're doing? E.J.
THE WEEK WAS CRAZY BUSY. But by Friday, Morgan looked at the two suitcases and the four boxes she was taking to her mom's to be shipped when she'd found a new apartment.
The auctioneer was prowling the house, making notes on a tablet.
Everything was done. She'd said her goodbyes, had a flight in the morning that would take her back to San Diego and her challenging new job. The type of job that had been her goal when she graduated from college.
She'd made it.
Life was back on track. She'd checked off items on her list and everything was in order. Her life was perfect.
Perfectly awful.
Her mother was on her way to Mark's office to sign away the OCDR. Tess had okayed the contract. Conner was packing to move to D.C. and start his new job.
Yes, perfectly awful.
In a moment of sudden clarity and honesty, Morgan finally admitted what she'd suspected for quite a while now.
She didn't want to leave.
"Lady, you're right, there are some nice pieces here, which means I'm able to offer you significantly more than I normally would." He stated a figure that even Morgan knew was absurdly low.
"Thank you, but I've changed my mind." She hadn't known she was going to say the words until they tumbled out of her mouth. She almost expected the earth to move, or at the very least the heavens to open and shoot a bolt of lightning at her. After all, who in their right mind decided not to accept the job of their dreams? The job they'd spent their entire adult life working toward?
But nothing happened as Morgan said the most monumentally important words she'd ever uttered. The earth didn't shake off its axis. . .nothing. Nothing except Morgan suddenly felt lighter than she had in a long time.
The auctioneer gave her a significantly higher quote.
"I'm sorry. I've decided I'm not leaving Pittsburgh. I'm not moving. This is home."
Uncle Auggie's house with its eclectic supply of clutter, antiques and geriatric pets was home. Pittsburgh was home. Living next door to her mother, going to Sunday brunches. . .it was all part of being home.
Morgan wanted a chance to see if her mom's new friend grew into something more, if her party crashing ways were finally over. She wanted to see what happened between Sunny and Ian, and want
ed to be there when Tessa and Nikki each found someone. She wanted to rebuild a friendship with Gina and Thomas.
Conner?
She wanted Conner, but she couldn't keep him from his dreams. But she could be honest with him and let him know that what they'd had was more than just casual to her.
And. . .
She realized that the auctioneer was still talking to her, quoting ever higher prices, at the same time that she realized her mother could be signing the papers at Mark's right now.
"I'm sorry," Morgan said as she started to usher the man toward the door, snagging her purse and keys on the way.
"But no matter what you quote, I'm not selling."
She got him out on the porch, locked the door and sprinted to her car, even as she rooted in her bag for her cell phone.
She grabbed it, hit speed-dial one and listened as she got in the car, started it and backed out of the drive.
The auctioneer was still standing on the porch, looking unsure what to do.
"Really, I'm not selling, but thank you," she called out.
Her mother picked up the phone.
"Mom, it's Morgan. Have you signed the papers. . .?"
CONNER TRIED TO TURN HIS SCOWL into a smile. He was working, after all. His last wedding. He walked around the reception, taking this shot or that. Glasses clanged; the bride and groom kissed.
He snapped the shot and tried not to remember his last kiss with Morgan. It hadn't been anything near that passionate. A brief kiss, a thanks for everything, then it was over.
He was furious, more at himself than at her. After all, he'd set the casual-only rule, and she'd followed it to the letter.
He should be thankful that they'd had so much fun and that it had ended well. She'd told him if he was ever in southern California to look her up.
Look her up.
Something you might say to a casual friend, someone you don't expect to keep in contact with. Someone who might be associated with a fond memory or two but who had no real emotional tie.
Look me up.
The father of the bride was dancing with his daughter. Conner took the obligatory shots.
But he knew his heart wasn't in it. All he could think about was Morgan. He wished. . .
He wished they'd had more time.
His film began to rewind and he headed back to his supply case with a sense of relief. This was almost done. This chapter of his life. He'd start his new job and things would get back to normal.
As he approached the back of the hall, he spotted her.
"Morgan." He realized he'd spoken out loud, but she didn't stir.
He came up behind her. "So what's a woman like you doing lurking in a dark corner?"
She turned slowly, her eyes locking with his. "Just enjoying the sights."
"Morgan. . ." he began, but she held up a finger to his lips, silencing him.
"I know I'm crashing, but I needed to tell you something. I won't keep you long. Don't say anything. Just listen, please."
"But—"
"Please?"
He nodded.
Morgan pulled him into the corner. It had been so easy on her way over. She'd planned out what she had to say, but now that she was here, standing next to him, the words she'd so painstakingly worked on evaporated.
She ran her hand over his slightly stubbled cheek, looking for the right way to say what needed to be said. "I have a few confessions to make. I've lied to you from the beginning. Hell, that's not a surprise, I've lied to myself for a long time as well. I need to tell you, to apologize."
He looked as if he was about to say something, but she held her index finger up again.
That first wedding? I wasn't a guest. I crashed it. Oh, I didn't mean to crash. . . Annabelle tricked me into it, but still. And when I saw you, there was this spark. I didn't know how to just say, 'hey, you, you do something to me, for me. Let's see if you can do some more.' So I made up a reason to see you again."
"Your mother wasn't looking at expanding the store?" he asked.
"No. Not then. It was just an excuse. She really wanted to sell. She didn't like being in charge."
He was frowning.
"And my friends who crashed the weddings we worked? I didn't tell them where we'd be, that was my—"
"Your mother again?"
Morgan nodded. "But I put the idea of crashing in their heads. All that isn't the worst of it. When I told you that I was leaving town, that I wanted to keep us casual. . .when I said the words, I didn't know they were all a lie, but they were. Big lies. I'm not leaving. I'm staying here in Pittsburgh. I'm going to stay in the house Uncle Auggie left me, a house that's become home. I'm going to keep Gilligan, the aging humping dog, and the two mysteriously vanishing cats. I stopped Mom from signing the papers and selling the business to Mark. We're going to work out terms and I'm going to buy OCDR. What started out as a lie, one I used to have an excuse to see you, has grown into more."
The words had come out in a breathless rush. She took a deep breath and dived back in before she lost her nerve. "I can see it all, Conner. I can see all the things the store can become. I'm going to subcontract with other local businesses. Customers will be able to order invitations, flowers, even a photographer through OCDR. The world is so busy, and having one place to go to get everything, well, it's a great marketing hook."
"I'm happy for you, Morgan." He paused. "Is that it?"
"No. There's one more lie I have to clear up. I'll confess, it's the biggest one I told. I thought little white lies couldn't hurt anyone. When I initially said I wanted to keep us casual, I meant it. But gradually, it became apparent that you were more than that. Much more. You see, I'm pretty sure I love you. I'm not sure how or why. I have a type. All-business, pressed and polished. You consider shaving once a week at best. Your sense of style consists of. . .well, I'm pretty sure you went out and bought a lifetime supply of black T-shirts and denim. You're not my type. But I love you. It's a new and fragile love that I'm sure I'll recover from. I know you're leaving, and nothing in me wants to hold you back. It's just I couldn't go on lying to myself, or to you. I thought I wanted to make it big in business. To go back to California and climb the corporate ladder. But my mother was right—sometimes what we think we want isn't what we want at all. I'm staying in Pittsburgh and running the family store. And I understand you're leaving, but I didn't want all these lies tainting our memories. I love you, and I hope you find what you're looking for."
"Do I get to talk now?"
Morgan knew if she didn't make her escape she was going to ruin her very nice little speech by breaking down and crying. If she lost control, she might say the words she was holding back.
Stay with me.
She couldn't do that to him, couldn't ask, because she did love him. The feeling had come on fast. Probably too fast. But it was there. Big and bold.
And because she loved him, she had to let him have his dream.
He'd given it up once because Ian had needed him. She wouldn't be the reason he gave it up a second time.
"No. You don't need to say anything. I've got to go." She leaned forward and kissed his stubbly cheek. "Thank you."
"For what?"
"For being you. For giving me such beautiful memories."
She hurried out of the reception hall just as the guests started tapping their glasses again, asking the happy couple for another kiss. It felt like a scene from one of those old black-and-white movies, and she didn't want to look back.
She felt as if she'd set things to rights. She would miss Conner, but at least now that she'd told him the truth, she could look back at their time together and not have the weight of her fibs hanging over her.
And his leaving was probably for the best.
She was going to be very busy with OCDR. There was so much to do.
She was just going to ignore the fact her heart was breaking, and concentrate on the task at hand. She was going to turn Oakland Chair and Dish Rental into the premier party s
upply store in Pittsburgh.
She would set up meetings next week with local printers, and local photographers who might be interested in subcontracting with Oakland. . .
Oakland Party Supply and Rental?
OPSR?
An unexpected flash of pain struck, but Morgan pushed it back.
She loved Conner, and she'd said goodbye and let him chase after what he wanted.
She understood what that meant and truly hoped he'd find it.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
E.J., I did it. The attorney rushed the papers through, and today I'm owner of Oakland Chair and Dish Rental, soon to be named the Party Store or Oakland Party Center or. . . Well, I'm still working on the name. I think that about sums up what I hope to accomplish here. One-stop party shopping. Rentals, invitations, disc jockeys, band demos, flowers. . .even a photographer. Speaking of which, I haven't heard from Conner. Not that I expected to, but still. . .
THREE WEEKS LATER, MORGAN WAS back at the diner. It was part of her new rhythm. Well, more like an old rhythm she'd quite happily fallen back into.
Nikki was regaling them with her newest exploits. She'd given up party crashing after telling them her doctor date didn't pan out. "I hope he makes it as a surgeon, 'cause he was all-hands."
Nikki had decided to try her own hand at ten-minute dating last night. ". . .ten minutes and you'd barely gotten past the what-do-you-do-for-a-living-and-for-fun minutia, and that stupid bell would ding."
"At least you got a column out of it," Sunny chirped.
"Shh," Nikki said. "Remember, Sunday mornings are time when anyone speaking over a whisper should be shot."
"If you didn't drink, it wouldn't be such a problem," Sunny said in a chiding motherly tone.
"Just because you have a kid doesn't mean you get to lecture me," Nikki groused.
"Nikki doesn't," Tessa said.
"Tessa," Nikki hissed.
"Doesn't what?" Morgan asked, eyeing her friend's sunglasses suspiciously. For the life of her, she couldn't think of many things that fell under the heading Nikki Doesn't Do.
Even though they couldn't see her eyes, no one at the table could miss that Nikki was glaring at Tessa, who seemed totally unperturbed as she laughed. "Nikki gave up drinking a long while back. I just realized it these last few weeks as she dragged me around crashing receptions. She doesn't drink when she's out. The hangover-on-Sunday bit was just tradition. I don't think she wanted to disappoint us, so she kept shushing and grousing, and routinely wears her dark glasses not to shield her sensitive eyes, but to cover the fact they're not the least bit bloodshot."