Page 50 of Dear Roomie (Classic City Romance #1)

Morgan

J ames whirls around her bedroom in a flurry of frantic energy, dressed only in her underwear with a towel piled high around her hair.

I watch her from the bed, awestruck by her radiance as the midafternoon sun trickles in from the window, bathing her in an aura of light.

It’s been a little over a month, and I’m still reeling from the fact that, somehow, this beautiful woman is mine.

Her space has become mine too. I’ve spent every night with her in this bed since her birthday. She about had a fit when I mentioned going back to my own room, so my saggy air mattress has become nothing more than an oversized dust collector. My clothes have started to migrate over as well.

“Get up. We’re going to be late,” she calls out from the closet without turning around.

Clothes fly over her shoulder without care as she searches through the racks. A shirt hits my face, blinding me as it hangs off my head. I pull it off with an amused smile, just in time to see her spin around and storm out of the closet with a huff.

As she passes by the bed, I wrap my arms around her bare waist, halting her path of destruction.

“Breathe, pretty girl,” I say and kiss her exposed midriff. “We still have over an hour before we need to meet your dad and grandma.”

“That would be great if I could fucking find my dress,” she growls.

“Your dress is hanging next to the dryer with your cap and gown, exactly where you put them last night so you wouldn’t have to look.”

“I’m an idiot,” she says, relaxing into my hold.

“No you aren’t. You’re just nervous. Today is a big day.” I continue to pepper her back with soft kisses.

“I love you,” she tells me. Those three words cause my heart to swell and skip a beat.

“I love you too. Now go finish getting ready.” It takes effort, but I release her and give her ass a light smack.

The most precious tinkling laugh fills the air as she heads toward the hallway, swaying her hips with each step.

I climb out of bed once she disappears from my view, and go through my own routine of getting ready.

At some point during my shower, James joins me in the bathroom.

I don’t even notice her until I open the curtain and find her in front of the mirror working on her hair and makeup.

She smiles at my reflection and moves over to give me some space.

It’s so simple, so domestic, yet it causes a swell of emotion to wash over me, leaving me awestruck yet again.

I join her at the small countertop, and we get ready together, moving in a silent dance we both seem to instinctively know the steps of.

I’d expect that kind of nonverbal communication after years, not weeks, but I can read her like I’ve been doing it my whole life.

***

High heels clack against the sidewalk as I walk hand in hand with my girlfriend down the crowded campus streets toward the student center.

My girlfriend. Even after several weeks, I still expect to wake up on Gage’s couch and find this has all been a dream.

If it is a dream, I won’t complain. These have been the best few weeks of my life.

Golden sculpted waves bounce with each of her determined steps toward the plaza.

They shine against the bright red of her dress.

That’s another UGA tradition she taught me—red dresses for graduation.

She will put on the full polyester costume later, but for now, she only has the cap pinned in place.

The closer we get, the faster she walks, dragging me along behind her.

A gust of cold AC breezes past us as the doors slide open, and she leads us through the crowd and into the atrium.

Her eyes scan the room over and over again until something catches her focus, causing a brilliant smile to light up her face.

She drops my hand and half sprints across the room with a squeal, throwing herself into the arms of the man I can only assume is her father.

James’s father is intimidating.

There’s no other word that would come close to describing him.

She’s told me so much about him but left out how huge he is.

He easily dwarfs me, both in width and height.

Even if I were to ignore his size, he would still be terrifying.

He carries himself with a hardened edge that would be enough to make most sane people wary.

The steely look on his face softens some when he notices his daughter, but it doesn’t do anything to quell my rising unease.

His eyes meet mine from over James’s shoulder and narrow into a hardened glare. I swallow back my nerves and join them .

“Dad, this is Morgan, my boyfriend.” She pulls out of his embrace and steps back to stand at my side.

“It’s nice to meet you, sir.” I extend my hand, and it’s a miracle that it remains steady.

He looks me over with an appraising stare, leaving me feeling vulnerable and exposed.

I must meet whatever criteria he was searching for because his face relaxes back into what must constitute a neutral expression for him.

That isn’t saying much—the look would make Gage seem outright friendly on his worst days.

“You too. Ophelia has told me a lot about you.” Her father shakes my hand with a bruising grip, and I have to bite my cheek to keep the grimace off my face.

“Only good things, I promise.” She plants a kiss on my cheek, which earns a scowl from her dad. “Where is Grandma Anne?”

“She should be around here somewhere.” He looks around the crowd. “She saw a coffee shop near the entrance and disappeared as soon as I took my eyes off her.”

My girl laughs and shakes her head, the fondness she has for her grandmother shining through the movement.

“Let’s go find her before she gets into too much trouble.

” Her fingers lace through mine as she leads us back toward the door we came in.

“The last thing we need is Grandma Anne hopped up on caffeine during the ceremony. She will talk both of y’all’s ears off if you let her, and you’ll miss the whole thing. ”

“Speak of the devil,” her father mutters as an older woman pushes her way through the crowd with a tray full of drinks.

I can see the resemblance to her granddaughter in her features. They have the same high cheekbones and the same arrow-straight bridge of their nose. Give it a few decades, and I could see James looking nearly identical.

“Jamie-girl, let me see you.” Grandma Anne shoves the cardboard drink carrier into my unsuspecting hands and pulls her in for a hug.

“Grandma, it’s only been a few months. ”

“A few months too long, in my book,” her grandma chastises. “And you must be the new boyfriend I’ve not heard nearly enough about.”

“Morgan Hall, ma’am. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Cute and polite. What is it you do here, Mr. Morgan Hall?”

“I’m in law school, ma’am.”

“A lawyer.” She quirks an eyebrow. “This one is a catch, Jamie.”

“Grandma…” A pink tinge grows on her cheeks, and she gives me an apologetic look.

“Fine, fine. Let’s go eat. I’m starving anyway.” She turns toward the building’s café without waiting to see if we are following. The action is so like James, I can’t help but smile.

“Morgan, be a dear and pass out those coffees, would you? I wasn’t sure what you would like, so I went with something extra sweet. Figured you’d need it after spending too much time with this one.” She nudges James with her elbow and laughs.

“Thank you, ma’am. Sweet is great.” I pass the drinks around and take a sip of the syrupy liquid, grimacing at the offensive taste.

We find a table, and Mr. Clarke grabs us food from one of the restaurants built into the complex.

I am more than happy to fade into the background while James catches up with her family over dinner.

It’s clear how much she loves them, and how much they love her in return.

A twinge of homesickness stings in my chest. I can’t wait until our roles are reversed and she is the one meeting my parents for the first time.

I’m sure my mom will love to spend hours showing her all the pictures of me as a kid and telling her every embarrassing story she can think of.

By the time we finish our meals, it’s time for her to join the rest of the graduating class in the stadium.

She clings to my hand as we walk over to the student entrance with her family.

She never lets go, not even as her grandma fusses over her, straightening her cap and gown and making sure there are no smudges of lipstick on her teeth .

“I’ll see you guys on the other side,” she says with a nervous smile. “Dad, be nice, and Morgan, don’t let him get to you.” She squeezes my hand one last time and disappears into the mass of shiny black gowns.

“Why don’t you go find us some seats, Mom? I’d like to have a private chat with the boy,” Mr. Clarke says as soon as his daughter is out of sight.

“Don’t go too hard on the boy. Jamie clearly likes this one.” She pats my cheek and walks off toward the stadium entrance, leaving me alone with the man I’m pretty sure wants to kill me. He claps a hand on my shoulder and pulls me in the opposite direction.

“Let’s take a walk.”

This is it. This is how I die. I gulp around the knot in my throat and let him lead me. We walk in silence for a few minutes, not stopping until the crowd is thinned down and no one is watching.

“So, Morgan, what exactly are your intentions with my daughter?”

I stumble over my feet, bringing us to a standstill on the sidewalk. “I’m sorry…intentions…what?” I sputter.

“You heard me. Are you playing games with her heart, or are you in it for the long haul? Because if it’s the first, you better figure your shit out real quick.”

The accusation knocks all the nervous energy out of me. My spine straightens, and a rare burst of anger boils under my skin.

“Excuse my boldness, but I don’t think mine and James’s relationship is any of your business,” I tell him through clenched teeth, fighting to keep my tone neutral.