Page 13 of Living for Truth (Broken Shelves #2)

Hannah

M y mom, as expected, didn’t believe I had a boyfriend. I told her I wouldn’t be going out with Doctor Blaine because I had a date with my boyfriend, and she laughed right in my face.

I can’t say I’m surprised, but it hurt nonetheless.

I told her to cancel the date anyway and that Morgan is going to come over and pick me up so I can introduce them. I told her we met at the flower shop when I picked up her bouquet from Dad, and we’ve been talking ever since. She’s skeptical, but I think she’ll buy it when he comes over.

At least, I hope she will.

I’m not going to lie, this whole thing is weird for me.

I didn’t think Morgan was being serious, but I was also slightly relieved when he offered.

I’m still a little skeptical we can pretend to date and still remain friends, but at this point I’m willing to do anything to stop the never-ending awkward first dates that don’t lead anywhere.

I’m also well aware if he acts like my boyfriend, my heart is going to fall in love with this man, and then it’ll end, and I’ll be devastated because none of it was real.

I’ll just have to constantly remind myself it’s not real, and I can’t get attached.

I’ve just finished applying my lip tint when the doorbell rings, and my stomach drops straight out of my body and onto the floor. I take a stabilizing breath to calm my nerves and head up the stairs.

My parents are sitting out on the back patio, so I answer the door, and Morgan’s smile is blinding.

“Hi, Hannah. You look very nice tonight.” He bends down and gives me a peck on the cheek, making them heat, and a zing of something travel down my spine.

“Thank you. So do you. Come on in, let’s get this over with.” I motion for him to come in, and he grabs my hand, intertwining our fingers. I look up at him with a puzzled expression.

“Gotta sell that we’re dating. Is this okay?” He strokes his thumb gently back and forth. The action shouldn’t make me swoon, but it does.

Lost for words, I simply nod, and he squeezes my hand in response. Why does something so simple make my stomach flutter so much? My brain is acting like I’ve never held hands with someone before.

You like like him, the voice in my head taunts.

I can’t like him like that. I can’t move on so soon after having my heart broken.

I block that voice out.

We walk out to the back patio, where my parents are sitting on the swinging bench and scrolling on their phones. No idea why they came outside to ignore the magnificent pastel colors of the setting sun, but to each their own, I guess.

My mom nudges my dad, and they both put down their phones when they hear the back door close. My mom appraises my outfit, my dad appraises Morgan.

I’ve got on a black, form-fitting midi skirt with a slit up to my knee on one side and a plain, pink rib knit short sleeve shirt. I put the same wedges on as Sunday, and I have to say, I feel pretty.

Until my mom says, “Are you sure you’re comfortable in that?”

I’m about to respond, but Morgan cuts me off, “I think she looks lovely and comfortable. It’s nice to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Layton. I’m Morgan Fowler.”

My dad’s mouth is agape. “Morgan Fowler ? Like, the former wide receiver for the Denver Mustangs, Morgan Fowler? Owner of Fowler’s Flowers?”

“One and the same, Mr. Layton.” Morgan’s cheeks turn a tinge pink at the attention. I didn’t know he played football, and I sure as hell didn’t know he played professionally.

“Please, call me Mitch. I can’t believe I didn’t recognize you right away! Shame your career ended because of that injury. They haven’t won a Super Bowl since you retired,” my dad continues.

Morgan shrugs. “It happened at the right time for me. I was planning on retiring after that season anyway, so it worked out well for me and my daughter.”

My mom’s head whips towards Morgan. “You have a daughter?”

“Yes, ma’am. Alyssa—she’s nine and the light of my life.” Morgan’s so proud of his daughter. I love that about him. She’s not some dirty secret or shameful thing.

“How… interesting,” Mom says, evidently unhappy with that tidbit of information. I also don’t think she likes that Morgan has my dad’s stamp of approval because he played football.

“How did a man like you end up with my daughter?” my dad asks. I know he didn’t necessarily mean for it to sound like an insult, but the way he words it makes me want to crawl into a hole. Like it’s totally impossible for a guy like Morgan to be remotely interested in me.

“I own Fowler’s Flowers, and Hannah came in to grab a bouquet. It was an instant connection.” Morgan looks at me with a soft expression, and I give him a small smile in return.

“Hmm. You own a flower shop?” Mom asks, her voice full of disdain.

I don’t know what stick crawled up her ass, but if she’s going to continue to give Morgan an attitude, I’m going to riot.

Dad, oblivious as usual to Mom’s mood, pipes up, “That’s where I got your flowers from, Shelly.

I’ve been wanting to check it out and meet Morgan since they did that story when the shop first opened.

It was all over the news a few years ago.

” He turns back to Morgan. “I don’t buy flowers much but thought I would this year for Shelly, use it as a chance to finally check it out.

I was so disappointed I got stuck in a meeting and had to ask Hannah to pick them up.

Guess I should be patted on the back instead, huh?

” Dad nudges my mom’s shoulder playfully, and she just shoots him a glare .

“I’ll forever be grateful Hannah was the one to pick them up.” Morgan checks his watch. “Well, it was nice to meet both of you, and I hate to cut this short, but we have a reservation to keep. I promise to bring Hannah back in one piece.”

“Bye, guys. No need to wait up,” I say with a small wave.

Just as we make it to the door, my mom shouts, “Remember, Hannah. The Holy Ghost goes to bed at midnight.”

God, I haven’t heard her say that to me since I was a teenager.

When we make it to Morgan’s green RAV4, he opens my door for me and helps me in. Once he’s settled in the driver’s seat, he turns to me with a puzzled grin. “What was that about?”

“The ghost thing?”

“Yeah, the ghost thing.”

“When you get baptized into the church, you get ‘the gift of the Holy Ghost,’ which is supposed to be like your conscience, essentially. Apparently this ghost goes to bed at midnight, so it can’t help you make good choices after that.

” It’s actually pretty embarrassing having to explain that phrase to someone.

It’s something I grew up with, so I’ve never thought about how weird it is.

Morgan laughs, loud, uninhibited, and so joyful it sends goosebumps skittering up my arms. It’s contagious, and soon I’m laughing too as he pulls out of the driveway.

“That’s weird as hell, Han. But also absolutely hilarious,” Morgan says, shaking his head.

“Yeah, a lot of things Mormons say or do are. Or just plain creepy.” I try to ignore the flutter in my belly at the nickname he used so easily. I also try to ignore the way his arm flexes as he puts his car into the right gear. I try to ignore how big his hands are on the gear shift.

I fail at all of those things.

It’s going to be a long night if I’m already this flustered.