I stood up. "No! I'll get my own security. I don't want anything from him."
"Okay." He put his hands up in the air. "I won't push you. And trust me, it will get better, but it's gonna get a whole lot worse first."
I just stared at him with my mouth parted. Why couldn't I suffer from a broken heart in peace? It wasn't enough that he destroyed me, but now I had to be the center of the tabloid gossip like it was anyone's right to know about my heartache.
"I wish there was something I could do," he said softly.
"Just don't talk—about him—anymore. Please."
"If you need me, I'm here."
I nodded and went to my office.
I decided it was pointless to hold back the tears. Instead, I just let them out as I thought about the pictures of Sean and me. I let it hurt and burn and make me feel like I had internal bleeding, hoping to purge myself of the pain… it didn't help.
Later in the afternoon, I continued with the Christmas decorations and Annalisa kept hugging me and telling me it would be fine. I was starting to believe her when Cerise came barreling through the door.
"That is just insane!" She threw off her jacket and shook snow off herself. "There are two photographers outside. They're snapping pictures at everything and anything. They asked me a ton of questions. How are you supposed to run a business with them out there?"
My shoulders slumped. She was right. Who would want to stay with me when I had the freaking paparazzi on my doorstep?
"Actually," Stewie chimed in. "They can't block people from entering the inn. They also can't be on your property. Where are they exactly?"
"On the porch."
"Excellent." Stewie smiled and pulled out his phone. "Morgan, I'm dialing the local police station. Tell them there are photographers trespassing on your property."
I nodded and did just as he said as they all listened.
"You have the local police on speed dial?" Annalisa asked in astonishment.
"Honey, this ain't my first rodeo." He kissed her quickly.
After following his instructions, I gave him back his phone and took my searing pain away from them.
In my office, I tried to distract myself. I actually wished some non-Sean-related problems would come at me so I could get my mind on something else. Beans and Jacob, two of our police officers, came into the inn to talk with me. Stewie did most of the talking, citing laws and guidelines that I didn't think Beans or Jacob knew about. He was impressive, actually. They said they would stick around for the next few days to try to deter this behavior. Our town wasn't huge and usually wasn't disorderly, so I didn't feel too bad about giving them something to do. Annalisa brought them both some coffee and a bag of homemade donuts—she was always thoughtful.
Just as Beans was about to leave, he stopped and looked at me. Whenever I looked at him, I still saw the annoying pest who used to throw my stuffed animals in the trees as a kid. "Sean Wilder? Really, Morgan?"
I closed my eyes and covered my face, nodding. He cursed under his breath, and they left the inn. Even Beans was star-struck by the idea. Whatever made me think I could have a relationship with Sean was beyond me.
Clearly, while my brain had gotten over the idea of Sean and me as a possibility, my heart was hanging on for dear life as evidenced by the sobs that tore from me when Sean texted me later that day.
I'm sorry about the photographers, sweetie. I wish I could make them leave you alone.
I replied with a solid I wish you'd dialed the right number instead of me. You and Michelle deserve each other.
I don't want anything to do with her, Morgan. I love you, always will, no matter what.
Yeah right. He really proved that when his tongue was down her throat in a dark hallway.
That night, I was laying in bed, staring at the ceiling—which was a pastime I seemed to be enjoying a lot lately—when something new came in and turned my world upside down. My cell phone rang. Not an unheard of event in the grand scheme of things, but when I looked down at the number, I freaked out on an epic scale. The number was Brent's. Immediately, I turned off the phone and sat there breathing heavily, nearly hyperventilating as I stared at it. I shook my head back and forth about a hundred times and tried to let go of the anger and pain and just plain fear that Brent's name pushed through me. What the hell did he want? Why would he call me? Why would he call me now?
It made me nauseous, and I had to do something. I had to get out of there. I pulled on a pair of sweats, knowing Jake was on duty at the inn. I threw on a sweatshirt and pulled my hair up in a high ponytail. Shoving my phone in the front pouch of my sweatshirt, I headed out. It wasn't until I was halfway between the inn and the barn that I saw them. I caught the eye of a tall man smoking a cigarette, and he immediately spit it out on the ground and grabbed for his camera. When I turned around to go back to the barn, two more were behind me—they must have been leaning against the side of the barn waiting for me. This was private property. They weren't supposed to be here.
The lights of their cameras started going off, and I had to make a decision of which way to run. At least, in the inn, I wouldn't be by myself, so I made a run for it. They followed me every step of the way before another, bigger guy showed up and blocked my path, keeping me from getting past. I tried to maneuver past them, but twisted my ankle in the process and winced in pain. They shouted out idiotic things.
"Do you like Vermont?"
"Where's Sean, Morgan?"
"Are you still with him?"
"When's he coming here?"
"Do you care that he's sleeping with Michelle Stevens?"
"Morgan, are you having a nice night?"
I was starting to panic. They had me trapped. I pulled out my phone, fumbling with it. I hit 911 and cried into the phone, "It's Morgan Edwards, they have me trapped. Help, please. Behind the Olde English inn."
"We're just trying to get a picture, Morgan."
I dropped to the ground when I couldn't get past them and covered my face with my hands, crying and shaking.
"When did you talk to Sean last?"
"How old are you, Morgan?"
"Did you sleep with Sean?"
"Are you in love with him?"
"Did you know he proposed to Michelle Stevens?"
After what felt like forever, I could hear. "Get away from her! Move away!" I recognized Beans' voice and was so happy to hear it. They must have still been in my parking lot to have gotten there so quickly. Beans wrapped his arms around me, and I forced myself to walk through the pain in my ankle. I could hear Jacob telling the photographers they were under arrest for harassment. Beans radioed for backup as he got me to the door. "Get inside. Stay there. I'll come talk to you when we're done."
I nodded. The second I closed the door behind me, I collapsed to the ground, shaking and crying. I dialed Annalisa.
She picked up on the first ring, "Morgan?"
I was crying pretty heavily, so I don't know exactly how much she understood, but she listened well. "They attacked me. I couldn't—the path—they blocked the path. I just wanted to come to the inn, and I had to huddle on the ground like—like—" I drew in a short, shaking breath. "They just—the questions and they wouldn't let me get away."
"Shhh. Stewie's on his way. Where are you at now?"
"Beans, he—the police—they have them—in the inn—I'm in the inn."
"Stay there. Are you okay? Did they hurt you?"
"No, I'm just—scared."
"I know. But you're okay. It's okay." She stayed on the phone with me until Stewie arrived.
He immediately pulled me into his arms and just held me. Jake followed him, looking upset. "I didn't know she was here. I would have—"
"It's okay, Jake," Stewie said calmly as he practically picked me up off the ground.
I couldn't stop shaking. I tried to get a handle on it, but I couldn't. It was like having five Brents standing over me.
"Jake," Stewie said softly. "Can you make Morgan some tea?" He supported most of my
weight as I hobbled to the living room. He sat me on the couch before pulling his phone from his pocket. "Yeah… She's okay, just shaken up quite a bit… I agree… I told you I wouldn't get involved, Sean."
I shook my head and moved to stand up, but Stewie put his hand on my shoulder, forcing me to stay where I was. I didn't want to think about him or hear his name or hear this side of the conversation.
Stewie shoved the phone out to me, and I tried to shove him away from me. He finally pressed his finger to the phone and said, "She refuses. You're on speakerphone. I'm pulling the plug if it gets too bad. She's been through enough tonight."
I tried to push past him, but now that I was safe in the inn, my ankle was starting to throb with pain. Even still, I tried to get away, so he had to put the phone on the table out of my reach and wrap his arms around me to hold me still.
"Morgan?" Sean's voice made me fight more and start sobbing again.
"Shhh, just listen to him, Morgan," Stewie begged.
"I'm so sorry, Morgan. I can't tell you how sorry I am. I knew I'd lost you when I believed Chrissy. I was just so—I knew I didn't deserve you. I knew you were better than me and it made me—I was waiting for you to leave. I was waiting for you to realize you deserved better, and I thought with Floyd—I'm so sorry. I just couldn't believe you really wanted me. When you walked away, I knew what I'd done. I didn't even need to ask Nathan what really happened. I didn't even go after you because I know you deserve better. I went to the bar and just wanted to drink until I couldn't think about you anymore. I wanted to just let you go, let you have a normal, happy life away from me. It's no excuse, but I was drunk and Michelle just—she knows a lot about me. She knew what to say and what to do, and after filming with her, she's just so familiar—it's my fault—I let her get to me, Morgan. I know that."
"He never gets drunk, Morgan," Stewie explained and relaxed his arms around me. "I've never seen him that plastered before in his life. Rudy said Michelle was all smug smiles. And she's a stellar actress. Rudy said she watched him drink seven shots in a row before she started whispering in his ear. And I talked to Chrissy. Michelle put her up to it, to lying about you and Floyd."
She was Michelle Stevens. She could have any guy she wanted. "It just doesn't make any sense. She could have anyone. Why would she go to such lengths to—"
"She's not like you, sweetie," Sean insisted. "I love that you think people should be decent, but in my world, they just aren't. Sure, some are, but for the most part, everyone's out to get something."
"But she has everything, why would she—"
"She doesn't have me," he explained. "And I really don't even think she wants me. She did once, and I hurt her. It's revenge she wants now, and she got it. I haven't spoken to her since then. I have to eventually because of the contract, but I don't want to. I want nothing to do with her bullshit. I just want you, Morgan. But I'm not gonna push you on that. I just wanted you to know that I love you. Even if you can't ever believe me or give me another chance, I love you. I need to know you're safe. Please, let me hire security for you. I can't handle not knowing if you're safe."
"I really don't give a damn what you can and cannot handle, Sean."
Stewie let go of me completely. "You're on your own now, Sean." He got up and walked away.
"Stewie's worried about you too, Morgan. And Annalisa and Cerise—they all need to know you're safe, but they can't afford to pay for security for you. I can. Let me do this, not for me, but for them and for you."
Damn him. I had to admit I needed someone watching over the inn. I knew he was right about Annalisa and Cerise. They'd probably try to find the money themselves for security. "Whatever."
"They'll be there first thing in the morning."
Beans came in. "Morgan, we need to take a statement. You'll be pressing charges, right?"
"I—should I?" I asked Beans.
Before he could answer, Sean's voice came from the phone. "Yes. She's pressing charges."
Beans looked quizzically at the phone on the coffee table. "Who's that, Mo?"
I rolled my eyes at the nickname only Beans called me. "Sean," I ground out through clenched teeth.
"No shit?" He smiled wide, and I covered my face with my hands. "Well, uh, wow."
"Officer," Sean said with a strength in his voice he hadn't had when he was talking to me a moment earlier. "Two security guards will be on her doorstep first thing in the morning. Thank you for taking care of her."
"Uh, yeah, no problem. I mean, I've known her since we were kids, Mr. Wilder. I won't let anything happen to her." He put his hand out to me. "They're already on their way down to the station, so if you want to head back home, I can walk you over there and take your statement."
I nodded and pushed myself up, wincing sharply at the pain in my ankle. Stewie appeared beside me and put his arm around my waist, but Beans shook his head and came over to pick me up.
"Beans, no—I'm too heavy and what would Cicily think?"
"Oh, please," he balked as he adjusted me in his arms. "I carried you home when you twisted your ankle in Myer's woods when you were ten. You don't weigh much more than that now. And Cicily would kick my ass if I didn't carry you home. She'll probably be pissed at me for not cracking a few skulls out there—damn vultures."
On my couch, I went through my statement with Beans while Stewie hovered, listening to every word. Annalisa showed up with Cerise and made some cupcakes—the best combat for Annalisa when she was distressed was to cook. Cerise pulled my ankle up and kept ice on it for me. I was completely exhausted by the time Beans left and so pleasantly warm from the alcohol Cerise kept handing me that I could hardly keep my eyes open.
Cerise decided to spend the night and shared my bed with me like we had a million times before on drunken nights. Annalisa and Stewie stayed in the guest bedroom after Stewie had a long phone conversation outside. With so many loved ones around me, you'd think I would have slept soundly. But I didn't. I dreamed of Sean. I cried out for him to help me, and it was his arms carrying me home in my dream instead of Beans'. When Cerise woke me up, she said I'd been screaming Sean's name. I just hoped it wasn't loud enough for Stewie to hear.
I didn't wake up the next day until almost two o'clock. I felt better rested, but completely and utterly awful. My muscles were so shaky that it was a struggle to shower. I had to lean against the sink just to dry my hair. Thankfully, my ankle wasn't too painful, just a little stiff. As I pulled on a pair of jeans, I could hear voices outside my door and wondered what was going on. It sounded a little heated. I slipped on a long-sleeved T-shirt and moved closer to the door to hear.
"We all heard her, so what difference does it make?" Stewie's voice was clear.
"She'll get over being mad at me." Cerise had her no-nonsense tone firmly in place. "Do you really want to jeopardize things between you two?"
"Yeah, okay. Good point."
The door opened and Cerise looked at me. "Morning, sunshine. How you feeling?"
I shrugged.
"Well you can hit me if it will make you feel better."
"Wha—" I had no idea what she was talking about.
"Sean's here." My eyes widened painfully, and my heart decided to stop beating altogether. "Yeah, I know. But here's the thing, Morgan. You love him. He fucked up, and you're afraid to trust him again. I get it—I'm not debating any of it and neither is he. But he's not here for that crap. He's here because you scared the ever-loving shit out of him last night, and he needed to actually see that you're okay. That's all. He's agreed to keep his mouth shut, to not be trying to win you back—he's just here because he's a friend who cares about you. That's all. Now you can hit me."
I threw myself face first onto the bed. A Friend? Seriously? How could he try to play that card? I couldn't be friends with him. Not in a million years would I be able to look at him as a friend. Cerise sat on the bed next to me.
"I know you're hurting, but you don't have to, Morgan."
"Are you tell
ing me to forget it all?"
"Hell no. But I heard you last night, Morgan. I don't want to hear my best friend in that much pain. It killed me inside. And if it killed me, it must be killing you. You love him. Just be around him. See if you want to give it another chance. I'm not saying forgive him because I'm still pissed as hell at him. You have every right to never forgive him. But—just—admit that you're not sure what you want to do, and spend some time with him." I groaned loudly into the bed, and she patted my back. "Good!" she said cheerfully. "I knew you'd agree." I groaned again, and she shook my shoulders. "Let's go eat something. Annalisa is making lunch."
I glanced in the mirror and groaned again at the circles under my eyes. I'd obviously had too many days where I was lacking sleep, and I was pretty dehydrated from crying my eyes out. I almost went back into the bathroom to put on some makeup, but I decided I wasn't out to impress anyone, least of all Sean.
Taking inconspicuous deep breaths, I stepped into the hallway and took Cerise's hand for comfort. She squeezed my hand and pulled me to the kitchen table where Stewie was smiling up at me. The back facing me was definitely Sean's. His broad shoulders and muscles could easily be defined through the long-sleeved Henley he was wearing. My chest flamed, and I closed my eyes and clutched at it for a moment before I remembered Stewie was watching me. Cerise moved to stand in front of me, blocking me from Stewie's view. She moved her hand to signal a deep breath, and I followed her lead, breathing in deeply and out slowly. She pulled me farther into the room.
"Look who's awake," she announced.
"Awesome," Annalisa smiled. "I need a guinea pig for this sauce." She signaled me over, but my stomach was such a mess, I didn't want to eat a bite of anything. She must have noticed my probably green face because she patted me on the arm and said, "I think you need some water in you before you sample my fine cuisine."
She opened the fridge and handed me a bottle of water. She put her hands on my shoulders and steered me to the table, seating me at the end while Sean sat on the side closest to Stewie, who was seated at the other end of the table. I turned and watched Annalisa instead of being forced to stare at Sean. I couldn't bring myself to make eye contact with him.
Accidental Texting: Finding Love despite the Spotlight Page 25