"I—I don't—I don't know what to say."
"I'm sorry, sweetheart. I wish—it's not often that I don't want to be who I am, but damn if you don't make me feel that way every time I talk to you." I didn't know what to say to that either, but the frustration and anger in his voice made me feel bad for him and what it must be like to be him. "Screw it. The background check will have to wait. I'll just tell them—"
"Okay." My voice was tiny. I was surprised he heard it. I was really unhappy about it, but I had nothing to hide. It really wasn't a big deal in the grand scheme of things. It just felt like too much to be asked so soon. But, this wasn't a normal relationship—I knew that from the start. "Go ahead and do it."
"I don't want you to do something you aren't comfortable with. I would never ask you to—"
"I know, Sean. I really don't have anything to hide. If it makes everyone feel better then, whatever, go ahead. It's not that big a deal."
"No, it is. I know it is, Morgan. God, I wish I could hold you right now."
"Me too." My voice was too weak for my liking, but after such an incredible conversation, to end with this, was shattering.
"Two weeks, Morgan. And I hope you're ready for me not to let you go again."
I smiled a little. "I like that plan." Now that I had calmed down, my body reminded me of its exhaustion by forcing a loud yawn.
"Go get some rest, sweetie. I'll talk to you tomorrow."
I don't know how many hours I stared at the ceiling, but at some point, I must have fallen asleep. I had weird dreams about Sean's friends finding out I tried to steal a pink Cinderella toothbrush when I was four and practically lynching me.
At the time, we hadn't had the money to buy things like a pink Cinderella toothbrush, and I'd seen someone older just put a candy bar right into his jacket, so I thought I could do it too. When I told the store owner about the kid and burst into tears, he let me go, but Mom was livid. She lectured me about stealing and reminded me how I felt when we lived in our previous apartment in a bad area and someone stole a bunch of our stuff. I never did it again, that was for sure. A week after the incident, I woke up to find that she'd taken a permanent marker and drawn Cinderella on my toothbrush. She was like that—she had a way to make everything better. I woke up crying over the memories. I missed her so much.
Throwing on some sweats, I padded downstairs to what had been the tack room of the original barn. I'd fixed it up and turned it into a small art studio. Several hours later, I finished a painting of Mom holding out my toothbrush to me with the drawing she'd made on it. There were things that weren't quite right about the portrait, but I wasn't a trained painter or incredibly talented. I was always hard on my own artwork, so I decided to just tell myself to shut up and send it with Stewie to give to Sean.
I managed to get a few more hours of sleep, so I didn't look quite so zombie-like. When I stepped foot in the inn though, I knew something was wrong. It was quiet. I said hello to Cerise, who was at the front desk checking some guests in and dropped off my coat in my office. I greeted the guests, and as soon as Manny, one of my weekend staff members, took their bags up to their room, I turned to Cerise.
"Why is it so quiet?"
"Annalisa's a mess. Stewie's been trying to calm her down all morning. I tried to talk to her, but she won't talk."
"Why didn't you call me? I would have come over earlier."
"Stewie said not to. He said you and Sean had a tough night." She gave me a sympathetic smile and patted my upper arm.
"Yeah, but this is Annalisa we're talking about. She's more important than whatever's going on with Sean and me."
"I think this is between her and Stewie, Morgan. I'm not sure there's anything we can do."
I could understand her theory, and if it were me or Cerise in this situation, I would agree. But Annalisa was so inexperienced. She needed to talk it out with us.
"Come on, we can help her."
When I walked into the kitchen, Annalisa was in front of the stove. Abel and Marnie, our two sous chefs were practically tiptoeing around her as they cut and prepped different items. Her face was completely blank, which I knew was a bad sign. She'd perfected the blank face over the years out of necessity. If she showed emotion when people were picking on her, they just attacked her more. Stewie looked awful. He was sitting on a stool in front of the counter watching Annalisa.
"Stewie, could you give us a minute?" I gently touched his arm. He looked over at Annalisa, who didn't bother to look up and nodded. "Guys, why don't you go take a break?" I suggested to the grateful expressions of Abel and Marnie.
Cerise and I watched Stewie leave the room before I pulled her away from the stove. "Okay, get rid of the mask."
She shrugged, but her face stayed blank.
"Annalisa look at me." She turned her chin up defiantly. She was pissed. I could see that in her eyes. "How many times have you pulled my ass out of the dumps because of some guy? How many times have we done that for Cerise? We can't get through crap like this alone, but we're always here for each other. You know it helps me to talk it through with you two, and you know it helps Cerise, so drop the mask and talk to us."
She threw her hands up and walked away from me, but I could see her shoulders slump, and she brushed away tears with her fingers. "He's leaving in a few hours. I won't see him again."
I stepped closer to her. "He'll be back for Thanksgiving."
"That's what he says, but you know he won't. Why would he?"
Cerise turned around on the stool. "Are you blind, woman? He's got it bad for you. Look at how he sat in here with your silent ass all morning long. You think he's just here because it smells nice?"
Annalisa kept her eyes on the floor. "He's just here because—because—" tears rolled down her cheeks. "He feels guilty."
"Guilty about what?" I could guess where this was going, but Annalisa needed to say it.
"He—we—last night—you know." She picked at her fingernails. "He was—my first—you know."
Cerise jumped up and ran over to hug Annalisa. "Thatta girl! I'm so proud of you right now I could scream!"
"Proud?" she fairly screamed. "He's leaving me."
"No, stop right there." I pulled Cerise away from Annalisa and forced her to look at me. "He's not leaving you. He's being a responsible businessman. He has work to do, but he already told Sean he's coming back here to be with you for Thanksgiving. And that was before he slept with you, so don't tell me it's out of guilt. You can sell that crap somewhere else, cuz we're not buying it." She smiled a little, and I knew I had her.
Cerise jumped in again, practically bouncing up and down. "So how was it? I need details here."
Annalisa smiled a little more. "It was—well it didn't hurt as bad as I thought it might—he was gentle and—it was incredible." The smile on her face made us hug her tightly. It was so good to see some happiness from her.
"Okay, seriously, Annalisa." Cerise shook Annalisa's arms. "You're freaking chasing him away at this point! He probably thinks you regret giving it up to him."
The sudden worry on her face told me she hadn't thought about that. She'd put up her wall to protect herself, not knowing it was pushing him away. I couldn't help but think about Sean and how he was doing the same thing. But I had to focus on Annalisa.
"How do I—I don't know what to say to him or how to act," she said quietly. "It all feels different."
I rubbed her upper arm. "It only feels different because you're making it different. Be who you've been with him. Flirt with him, laugh with him, when he comes back in just kiss the hell out of him. He'll figure it out and adjust. Despite my first impression, he's a nice guy. You chose wisely, honey." She bit her bottom lip and looked close to tears again. I rolled my eyes at her and smiled. "And quit it with this he's-not-coming-back crap. His schedule sucks, you need to know that, but I can't imagine him not making as much time as he can for you."
She was quiet for a moment, but then nodded, and we hugged her again
before walking out of the kitchen.
Stewie was sitting at one of the tables in the dining room with his head in his hand as he stared at the table. I walked over and sat down next to him.
"Good morning, huh?" He groaned at me in response. "Listen, she's new at this. She's just not sure how it all works, and she's afraid to let herself care for you."
He looked up and skewered me with a knowing stare. "Sounds like someone else she knows." I winced and looked down at my hands. He sat up straighter and leaned closer to me, placing his hand on top of mine. "I'm sorry. It's totally different for you. I didn't mean—"
"It's okay. I know you didn't mean anything by it. At least she's seen you, she knows your full name and you two—" I almost blurted out that they'd slept together, but I didn't want to wave a huge flag that said Annalisa blabbed about their sex life. "Look, she's not easy and neither are you. You both have baggage, but you have to push her. When she gives you that blank stare, you have to shove really hard. She's perfected that mask over the years to hide from those who've tried to hurt her."
"She thinks I wanna hurt her?"
"Not directly, Stewie, but it's not like you live in town or even nearby. You are gonna have to leave her, but she's afraid the second you're gone, you'll forget about her. You just need to prove her wrong."
"I can do that."
I smiled at him. "I know you can. I love her like a sister, Stewie, and I'm trusting her to you. She's fragile, but she can be so strong and resilient. I've seen her get through some pretty screwed up crap. Just don't let her hide from you."
"I'll take good care of her, I promise."
I stood up and slapped him on the back. "Go tell her that." He smiled and jumped up, practically running to the kitchen. It felt really good to help Annalisa through guy trouble when she'd spent years doing it for me. I went back to my office with a smile on my face.
On my desk, I found my cell phone blinking away at me.
Stewie's a mess. What's going on?
I took care of it. Crisis averted.
I'm glad you're there. I've never heard him that upset. I think he's got it bad for your friend.
Just don't let him give up on her. She won't make it easy for him.
I'll give him a pep talk.
I just did, but you might need to reinforce it.
Happy to. Gotta go. Talk to you later, sweetheart.
Annalisa was full of tears when we drove Stewie to the airport. I was a little teary myself from watching them and because I liked Stewie. He'd already become a good friend. The whole way to the airport I debated whether or not to send the painting with him. Finally, I just said to hell with it and handed it over.
"What's this?" Stewie looked down at the 11 X 12 painting. "Where—isn't this your mom? She looks like the woman in the painting above your desk."
I nodded. "Give it to Sean. Tell him it's part of my background check."
He looked a little sad. "He told me about that. Morgan, he—"
"It's okay, Stewie. I'm—I'm okay with it. Just tell him to call me, and I'll explain the story behind what I painted."
"You painted this?" He stared back at the painting with wide eyes.
Annalisa peeked over his shoulder. "You captured her eyes just right, Morgan." I smiled at her praise and could feel myself blushing. She turned back to Stewie. "Morgan painted most of the art in the inn. The large sea painting in the room you stayed in was hers."
"Really? I can't believe that. You're very talented."
I thought his flattery was a little too much, but I politely smiled as he hugged me goodbye.
The ride home was sad. Annalisa was in tears, and we decided it would be a good time for a girls' night in.
Thanks—giving?
By the end of the week, I was so busy with business that I hardly had time to think. Adding in plans for Thanksgiving dinner made it really tough to find time to sleep. Stewie's reporter friend from Sunset magazine came in on Tuesday to interview me and take pictures of the inn. It was overwhelming, like a whirlwind of photographers and questions.
That night, Sean and I managed to find time to have a decent conversation. Aside from a text message here and there and a couple emails, we hadn't talked since the background check conversation.
"You should have seen all the photography equipment and running around they did. It was really crazy. And they took my picture like twenty times. What do they even need that many shots of me for?"
"So they have options." He sounded like he knew this from experience. "You didn't like the attention?"
"Not that kind of attention, and not from a bunch of strangers. It was pretty overwhelming."
"Well you better get used to it." There was a smile in his voice I couldn't quite place.
"Why? You think business will keep up like this?"
"Uh—yeah. You never know how many magazines will want to interview you."
"Hmm." It was awesome for the inn, but nerve-wracking for me. Mom would have been amazing being interviewed, I was quite certain, but I wasn't the boisterous type. "I guess I'll have to deal. So now that I have you for more than five minutes, you said you wanted to ask me something when you had time."
"Oh, right. Well, your painting is amazing. It's leaning in front of the mirror in my hotel room right across from my bed, so it's the last thing I see before I go to bed and the first thing I see when I wake up. But you said you'd tell me the story behind it."
I was flattered that he thought so much of the painting or at least, thought so much me to keep the painting close by as a reminder of me. It was a really nice feeling. "Yeah. It was kind of inspired by the background check discussion."
"Ugh. I don't want to talk about that." He sounded like he regretted the whole thing. But I already knew he wasn't happy about asking to begin with.
"Well, I'm sure you've found out by now that I don't have anything to hide. I've been an embarrassingly good little girl on paper."
"Hmm. Does that mean you have a hidden bad girl streak I might get to see?" The way his voice dropped made my heart pump faster. Just the thought of anything sexual with him made me crazy even though his face was always blurred out in my fantasies.
"I might," I said teasingly. "But the painting was my 'bad child moment,' as my mom called it." I explained the story to him, and he laughed at me sweetly.
"That's the worst you've done, sweetheart? You are a good girl, aren't you?"
"Is that so bad?"
His voice dropped low again. "I can imagine having a lot of fun corrupting you, especially in bed."
"By 'in bed' do you mean sex?"
He chuckled. "That is the traditionally accepted definition, yes."
"Ohhhh. That's so cute. See, I've never been one to confine sex to a bed, but if that's the kind of good boy you are, I can imagine having a lot of fun corrupting you." I couldn't hold in my own laughter, and I liked the way it sounded mixing with his.
"And what exactly do you plan to do to corrupt me?"
"I told you. I don't do phone sex. You'll just have to wait and see."
"Well, on a safer topic, the painting is incredible, Morgan. Your mom was beautiful. I can see a lot of her in you."
"Oh, please. You've seen one picture of me."
"Well see, here's the thing. Stewie sort of took a ton of pictures on his phone while he was there. He's got 63 to be exact, so I've seen more of you than you think."
If I could have reached through the phone and hit him, I would have. Instead, I settled for a verbal hit. "You haven't seen me naked."
He groaned loudly. "If you want to send me that picture, I sure as hell won't complain."
"You'll just have to wait to see the real thing."
"You don't know how many times I've thought about that. It's getting painful, really."
"Poor baby," I patronized him. "Maybe it'll motivate you to get here sooner."
"I wish I could. I really freaking wish I could."
The rest of our conversation was
pretty boring. I told him about the restaurant pulling in customers from Rutland and that another bride decided she wanted to have her wedding at the inn. I opened up to him and told him how difficult it was to sit through that meeting with the memory of the Amanda and Marcus incident still fresh in my mind.
He talked about how tired he was and how worried he was about his current project, although he didn't give me any details. Finally, it was too late to keep talking, and we had to say goodbye. It seemed like I was always saying goodbye to him, and I really hated the way it felt.
Thankfully, the inn kept my mind off Sean fairly effectively. I seemed to constantly be running around like a chicken with my head cut off. Annalisa was obsessively experimenting with new recipes for our Thanksgiving feast, and I had a strong feeling Stewie's presence at our feast was a major factor in her obsession. Of course, she wouldn't admit to that.
Sean had been too busy to talk for several days. He said he was wrapping up business in Miami and that required longer work days. I missed having long conversations with him and was finding it tougher to concentrate on anything.
On Thursday morning, Cerise was kind enough to go to the airport to pick up Stewie since Annalisa was busy cooking like a crazy woman. I'd spent all of Wednesday night decorating the dinning room and setting up the tables to make one very long table. Surprisingly, we were completely booked for Thanksgiving. I attributed part of this to the snow that had started falling since we weren't too far from the slopes, but it was flattering that many of our guests said they simply wanted to have our famous Thanksgiving feast. Later, I found out that Troy had decorated our website with a harvest theme and put up a large banner advertising our home-cooked Thanksgiving celebration.
When Petey looked at the books, he was all smiles. I was even able to hire Manny's brother to help out part-time. Things were certainly looking up on the business end.
As I stood in the dining room, staring at all the completed preparations, I realized I had nothing left to do. It was a rare moment I hadn't had in almost a week, and it left me too much time to think. I was smiling one moment at the warm atmosphere we'd created and was teary-eyed the next. Standing there, I realized, the only person I really wanted to be in one of those seats, aside from Mom, wouldn't be there. I didn't even know exactly what Sean was doing for Thanksgiving. He'd just said something about his gang going to dinner.
Accidental Texting: Finding Love despite the Spotlight Page 11