Page 27 of Living for Truth (Broken Shelves #2)

Morgan

A ly still wants to see Whitney the day before Mother’s Day. Worried she’ll forget, I text Whitney every single day between Sunday and Saturday to remind her that she has plans with our daughter.

If she finds it annoying, she should count herself lucky because I could be so much worse.

It’s Wednesday, and Aly and I are shopping after school for a gift for Whitney when Hannah texts me.

Hannah: Sorry to bother you while you’re working, but would it be possible to move in this weekend? I’m trying to book a moving truck.

I’m not letting her pay for a damn moving truck when my dad has a truck and trailer I can use.

Morgan: You can absolutely move in this weekend. But you’re not renting a moving truck. I have access to a truck and trailer, so I’ll help.

Hannah: You’ve already done so much, I can’t ask you to do that.

Morgan: Good thing you’re not asking. I’m offering! ;)

Hannah: Fine… *eyeroll emoji* But I’m buying you lunch. I don’t have much to move anyway, so it shouldn’t be too hard.

Hannah: How is Aly doing?

Fuck, I love h—that she’s thinking about Aly.

Who am I kidding? I love Hannah. I’m not too proud to admit it. Last weekend with her and Aly cemented my feelings and made me want many more weekends with both of them.

Aly hasn’t stopped talking about it, asking when Hannah is coming over again and if we can go visit her at the library.

I haven’t introduced Aly to a lot of partners, just one and that relationship ended well over three years ago.

Sam was a great guy but didn’t love that I put Aly first. He wanted to be my top priority, and I couldn’t give him that.

Things ended as soon as he made his feelings known.

The fact Aly is excited about Hannah makes me even more excited about Hannah.

The only bump in the road is our fake dating situation. Because hanging out with my kid and her meeting my sister doesn’t feel remotely fake. It feels very real, and I want to make it officially real.

Morgan: She’s doing okay. She still wants to go to lunch with Whitney, so we’re shopping for a gift now.

Hannah: I hope Whitney doesn’t disappoint her. Again. I’ll let you get back to Aly, tell her I said hi! And I’ll see you Saturday? Just let me know when you can come over, and I’ll have my stuff ready.

Morgan: Sounds good, Butterfly. See you Saturday.

Aly is looking at a bunch of necklaces right now, trying to pick something to give to Whitney. Whitney is very particular about everything she owns, but I’m hoping she appreciates whatever Aly picks.

“Hannah says hi. Find anything you like?”

“Tell her hi back. No, I don’t think Mom would like any of these… What about candles?” Aly walks out of the jewelry section of Target and towards the candles.

“Candles could work. What if we got her one of those fancy water bottles too?” I follow along, carrying the empty basket.

“I don’t know, maybe. I don’t know what she likes or her favorite color. I feel like a bad daughter not knowing that stuff.” Aly’s shoulders slump, and I tamp down the urge to call this whole thing off.

I stop in front of her so I can look her in the eyes. “You are not a bad daughter. It is not your fault she hasn’t taken the time to let you get to know her or to get to know you. She will love whatever you get her. So get her something that means something to you.”

“Thanks, Dad. I think… I think I want to just give her a candle and a bouquet of flowers with a card. Will you help me with that?”

“Of course, Bub. When we were dating, her favorite scent was cinnamon so maybe we can find a cinnamon candle.”

“Okay.”

By Saturday morning, Aly’s so anxious she barely eats her breakfast. She paces her room over and over trying to figure out what she should wear.

Bean won’t leave her side, following her small path and meowing at her like he’s trying to give her a pep talk.

She’s changed her outfit three times and is still worried that Whitney won’t approve of it.

She finally settled on a pink sundress with a white t-shirt underneath it and brown strappy sandals and asked me to help her braid her hair into two French braids.

She’s sitting on the couch now with the bouquet in her hand, waiting for Whitney to come pick her up.

Aly wanted the bouquet to have alyssum in it, since it’s the flower she’s named after, so we used those as filler and added some pink roses and carnations. Whitney used to love pink roses, so I hope she still does.

When the doorbell rings, Aly shoots up from the couch, but I tell her to sit tight, and I’ll get it.

Whitney is dressed in what can only be described as business casual, which is weird for an outing with a nine-year-old. She has on black slacks and a sleeveless tan blouse. Her platinum blonde hair is tied in a tight ponytail, and her eyeliner is sharp and neat.

She looks like she’s had some botox done, which, to each their own, but she’s only thirty-one, so I don’t think she actually needs it.

“Hello, Whitney.”

“Morgan.” She nods and comes into the house, looking around like she hasn’t been here before. Maybe she’s just forgotten everything because she hasn’t been here in well over a year. “Where is your girlfriend? ” she asks.

“Not that it’s any of your business, but she’s not here.”

Whitney hums. “Hmm. Bummer. I wanted to give her my condolences. Shame she has so many… issues. I would have thought you’d want more kids.”

I rear back. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Whitney’s mouth upturns into a vicious grin. “Oh, she didn’t tell you? Well, I can’t blame her. I’d be ashamed too if my body couldn’t keep a baby in it.”

Hannah had alluded to having a miscarriage, but why the hell does Whitney know that? “Don’t talk about things you know nothing about, Whitney,” I snap.

Whitney holds up her hands like she’s innocent.

“I’m just saying. I know more about it than you do, apparently.

She lost seven babies, Morgan. Why would you want to be with someone who can’t give you the big family you’ve always wanted?

Someone so… defective. There’s obviously something wrong with her if she couldn’t keep a single baby alive.

” The way she says it makes it sound like Hannah’s some type of murderer who targets babies. Not a woman with fertility issues.

“Hi, Mom,” Aly says, rounding the corner before I can rip Whitney a new one.

“Alyssa! Wow, you’ve gotten so tall. Are you ready for a fun day?” Whitney asks, her tone changing to something high pitched and nasally, like how someone would talk to a toddler.

“Yes. I—I got you a Mother’s Day present.” Aly holds out the bag with the candle and the flowers.

“Oh… thank you,” she says tightly. “I’ll open this later. We don’t want to hit Saturday traffic.”

Aly hugs me goodbye, and I whisper in her ear to call me if she needs me. Then she and Whitney leave, and I get in my car and drive over to my dad’s to grab his truck. My parents aren’t home, which is probably good since I don’t have time to chit chat. I need to get to my girl.

The whole way to Hannah’s, I’m wondering why Hannah didn’t tell me about her miscarriages. I mean, she has kept things pretty locked down because of her trust issues, but I feel like we’ve shared a lot with each other.

Is she embarrassed? It sounds like her ex blames her based on Whitney’s accusations and the wording she used.

The more I learn about Liam Whatever-His-Last-Name-Is the more I hate him.

I’m glad Hannah is no longer married to him, and that—hopefully—I have a chance with her. I want to show her how she deserves to be loved.

When I get to the Layton residence, I see boxes already out on the porch, and a brunette woman with a seventies style shag is hauling more out the front door.

I park on the street and open the back of the trailer, then walk to the front door right as Hannah comes out with another box.

“Oh!” she startles. “Hey. Thank you so much for coming and helping. Sage is here to help, too. I don’t have a lot of stuff, so we should be able to get it done pretty quickly. I assume we’ ll need to clean—”

“Already taken care of,” I cut her off, giving her a gentle smile, taking the box from her hands and walking it to the trailer.

“Taken care of?”

“Alice told my sisters and my mom about you moving into the apartment, and they took it upon themselves to spruce it up and make it ‘homey.’ Their words, not mine.” I slide the box into the trailer and turn to her. “They’re really excited about you living there.”

Alice couldn’t stop gushing about Hannah over text. The family group chat was blowing up with texts from everyone wanting to know every single detail about her. Even Kendall was ribbing me about finally finding a good partner, and he usually avoids all talk of romance, the commitment-phobe.

I didn’t give in to their demands for details because I don’t want to give them hope for something that might not last. We’re still firmly in the “friends-who-are-fake-dating” box even though I don’t want to be. I’m taking her lead on things, and she needs to be ready to do this for real.

“That’s really nice of them. I—” she pauses like she doesn’t want to say whatever had been about to come out of her mouth.

“You…?” I prompt, eager to hear what she has to say.

“I would like to meet them… sometime. If you’re okay with that, of course.”

My smile couldn’t get wider if I tried. “Of course I’m okay with it. I just know they’re going to love you.”

Hannah nods, then nods again. “Great. Um, I’m going to go help Sage grab more boxes.” She hitches a thumb over her shoulder towards the house.

Hannah turns and walks away, and that’s when I notice the tight bike shorts she’s wearing.

They sculpt perfectly to her wide hips, bountiful backside, and thick thighs.

I fail in my attempts not to ogle her, and when I finally pull my gaze away and start towards the door, the brunette—Sage, I remember–—is giving me a knowing smirk.

I’m not one to be embarrassed, but my face flushes at being caught ogling her best friend’s ass.

Sage has a box in her arms, and when I reach her I say, “I can take that for you. I’m Morgan. You must be Sage.”

“I know who you are, flower man. Yes, I’m Sage.

Hannah’s best friend and favorite coworker.

And yes, I know about your… arrangement.

” She glances back at the door then turns back to me.

“Between you and me, her ex-husband really fucked her up and messed with her head, but I can see her coming back to herself. I think a part of that has to do with you. So thank you. And… be patient with our girl. She deserves the world, but she can’t see it yet. ”

Our girl.

My heart clenches. Her best friend’s approval means more than that of her parents, and the fact Sage refers to her as “our girl” instead of leaving me out means I have more of a chance with Hannah than I thought.

I just need to make sure I handle her with care.

I want her to know I know about the miscarriages, but I don’t want her to feel like I’m accusing her of keeping something from me, or that I’m upset with her about it.

It’s a touchy subject, one I don’t know how to broach, but maybe honesty is just the best policy.

It’s unfair for Liam to share such a personal detail with Whitney without Hannah’s knowledge. It’s one thing to say they experienced loss, but it’s another to make Hannah sound like a broken human.

“Thanks, Sage. That means a lot to me. I’ll wait as long as it takes for her. She’s worth it.” And I mean it.

Before Sage can say anything, Hannah comes out with another box. “There are only four boxes left and my bed. I think we can get out of here in the next half hour.”

“Sounds good, Butterfly. Let’s get you to your new home.”