Page 30 of The Ex Effect (Meet Cute in Minnesota #1)

SEVENTEEN

FRANKIE

My phone vibrated against the dresser, with Morgan’s name on the screen. Four days had passed since we last spoke, and I hesitated for a moment and answered.

“Hey, are you free this afternoon to meet at Pete and Patty’s?” she asked.

“Yep.”

“Great, see you then.” Click .

Sure, I was glad Morgan called, since she’d all but ignored me since we last talked, but this was all she wanted?

I guess I wasn’t sure what I was expecting.

Maybe an offer to have a talk. Maybe a question about why I never divulged my marriage.

Maybe something, literally anything, that had a personal ring. But nope .

Being free was irrelevant. Was I sick of refreshing my emails a hundred times a day to check if Birch & Willow sent something? Yes. Was I tired of sifting through Peaches’s items? Yes. Was I missing Morgan? Also, yes.

Dammit. I shouldn’t be missing Morgan. Missing human interaction, or someone to chat with, or a working partner, fine. But missing Morgan, the person ? That wasn’t good.

I filled a box with Peaches’s old costume jewelry, hats, and scarves, and moved to tape.

On second thought…I dug through it and pulled a couple of Peaches’s brooches and her obnoxious lavender sun hat with the multicolored peacock feather she wore everywhere.

I couldn’t part with these. It was like these items were a part of Peaches.

I started a new box for “saved” items. At this rate, my two-bedroom apartment in New York was going to overflow with memorabilia if I didn’t stop myself, and I’d be no different from Peaches, who stuffed every nook with random shit.

Several hours later, after never wanting to see another cardboard box for the rest of my life, I pulled up to Pete and Patty’s farm and slammed the truck door closed.

Inside the barn, I scanned the vastly bare floors and shelves.

Damn … The crew had made a ton of progress in the last few days.

Besides a pile of tools, a large table saw, and a few scattered miscellaneous items, the barn was nearly empty.

Outside of the barn may look like a machinery graveyard, but the inside was good.

I walked the floor, pushing into the planks to check its stability.

No matter the filth and cracks, it wasn’t actually in as rough of shape as I’d originally thought.

Probably a trip hazard here or there, but hopefully decent enough where if we pried up some cracked pieces, slapped on some wood glue, or sourced a few rugs, we could call it good.

“Morgan?” My voice bounced against the empty walls. “Morgan?”

Silence met me until the faint sound of grunting and footsteps crunching over twigs approached. When Morgan appeared in the barn door, her overalls dusty, her cheek stained with a fresh line of dirt, and fumbling carrying a wooden box, I couldn’t stop my smile. God, she’s cute.

“Do you know how to use a table saw?” Morgan asked as she dropped the box on to the ground with a thud .

No “hello.” No “sorry, it’s been weird for a few days.

” No “thanks for coming.” Just, “can you use a table saw?” I wished I were surprised.

But, maybe it was for the best. Was I ready for a deep, heart-to-heart conversation, where we dove into what happened in our past, why I never mentioned Savannah, and more importantly what the hell was this rush taking over me every time I looked at her?

No. “A table saw? Um, yes, I do. But it’s been a very long time since I’ve used one and I don’t feel like losing a thumb. Why?”

“’Cause…this!” Morgan pointed to the pallets in a corner with a wide grin.

A wide, powerful grin, and it was damn near infectious.

In my line of business, I wasn’t immune to the power of the pallet.

Dressers, tables, sometimes even a bedframe was made with the material.

But I saw the beauty after … It was hard for me to picture it more than being a pile of dirty wood in its current state.

“Take a look at this.” Morgan dug out a dusty glass bottle from a wooden case. “I found this while antiquing with Sam.”

I chuckled. “Sam antiques? Not sure if he’s leveled up or downgraded in the cool factor. I need to process and let you know.”

“I’m sure he’ll eagerly await your decision.

” Morgan tugged on my arm and dropped her hand as quickly as she reached out.

I kind of wish she’d put it back. She marched to the back of the barn, her hips swaying with each step.

“Anyway, I found these really cool old milk jugs and paired them up with these candles I already had. Then I swung by Delilah’s flower shop and grabbed these, and… what do you think?”

What did I think? I thought I could shoot this for a spread for Birch & Willow .

Among the chaos of clipped flowers, eucalyptus, small rocks, and a very splintered chunk of pallet, lay a perfect place setting.

Rustic and artsy. Beautiful and simple, yet layered and complex.

Earth-colored pebbles filled an old-school milk jug.

Lavender, sage, and cream-colored roses tucked in the middle of a few stems of eucalyptus, all nested on a bed of pallets.

“So obviously, the pallet wood needs to be cut, sanded, maybe even stained. And the jar would sit on it just so…” Morgan adjusted the jar resting on the tilted wood and pushed the candle next to it. “Anyway so, that’s my idea.”

It didn’t take a PhD in human emotion to know the blush sweeping Morgan’s cheeks and rushed words were a clear indication she was seeking approval. But she must know how talented she was, right? Even if she didn’t, Morgan didn’t seem like the type to need my approval.

“Morgan.” I dipped my head to look into those expectant Caribbean-blue eyes. “This is incredible. Truly. It’s perfect. Damn, I wish I would’ve brought my camera.”

Now an even deeper blush and wider smile grew.

Morgan grabbed a pair of work gloves and tossed them at me.

“Okay, so I think we keep with this whole pallet theme,” she said.

“We’re in a raw, un-remodeled barn and I say we lean into that space.

These pallets will hold all the centerpieces, and we can use the same wood to build a side table.

Oh! We can also build a pallet wall-shelf-type thing…

we’ll have small flowerpots with guests’ names on it…

with phrases about letting love grow, growing with love, something like that.

You get the picture. Then, on the side we can… ”

As Morgan monologued for the next four million hours, I followed her every direction.

I pulled in pallets, dug through the mammoth amount of tools for nails, hammers, and a sander.

And even though I really didn’t want to lose a limb, one of the crew members showed me how to use the table saw, and I started cutting pieces for the centerpiece.

The work was so invigorating, I didn’t realize how many hours had passed until my belly rumbled .

Morgan was bent over a table, living fully in the “elbow grease” motto, her ass wiggling as she pushed the sandpaper across the wood.

With how grimy Morgan was from today’s activities, the action shouldn’t have been quite as hot as it was.

But damn it, I took way too long of a look at the curved, juicy backside, and when Morgan abruptly stopped and stared, I 100 percent felt like I got caught.

“Was that your stomach?” Morgan wiped her hand on a cloth.

“Yeah, sorry.” Be cool. It was just a damn look. “I didn’t eat much before I got here.”

Morgan bit the inside of her lip and glanced at her watch. “God, I didn’t realize it was so late. Um… I have a half-bag of mini-doughnuts from the festival today and some Cheetos in the trunk.”

I smiled. “Sounds like a perfect dinner.”

Outside, the golden sun inched lower as magenta brushed the sky. After hosing our hands down, I flopped next to Morgan against the massive cedar, which was quickly becoming my favorite break spot.

After talking all day, but not saying much, now should be the time. I opened my mouth to broach the inevitable subject but crunched into a Cheeto. Seriously, I just needed to address this, but where to start? How to start? “Her name is Savannah.”

Morgan squinted and slowed her chewing. “Huh?”

I pulled my legs up to my chest and linked my arms around my shin. “I should’ve told you I was married.”

“Ah.” Morgan flicked her gaze to the ground. A solid moment passed before she shrugged. “Like you said, you don’t owe me anything.”

God, why did I say such a shitty thing? At the time, I didn’t mean to snap, but my emotions were all over the place. I took a long drink from the water bottle and used the neck of my T-shirt to wipe my lip. “Anyway, we’re no longer married. ”

Morgan lifted a brow. “That was fast.”

I chortled through my nose. “It was a long time coming. And I really mean that. We separated two years ago and lived apart the last year. Honestly, it kind of surprised me that she called.”

Morgan flicked at the cap of her water bottle. “Was it…something important?”

The words were lobbed over casually, without Morgan’s facial expression changing. But there was something…a pause, a drop in the voice. Something that carried the energy of more intention, and maybe later I’d let myself think about it deeper.

“I guess? Maybe?” I split the last remaining doughnut and held out half to Morgan. “She was letting me know the divorce was final.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.” Morgan’s eyebrows scrunched. “Was it awful? Is she a terrible human?”

“Nah, nothing like that,” I said. “We just grew apart. I met her a few years after I moved to New York, probably like twenty-two, twenty-three? We got married too fast.”

Morgan dusted the sugar and cinnamon from her fingers. “Tell me about her.”

Does she really want to hear this? I wasn’t sure who or how much Morgan dated since we last knew each other, and I had absolutely no desire to find out.

Maybe Morgan left whatever was between us back on the high school parking lot that day, and I still held a piece.

“She was fun, really nice, ambitious. She worked in fashion.”

“You hate fashion.”

“I’m the most fashionable human you’ve ever met.” I waved to my standard white T-shirt. “She worked as an assistant editor for a high-end magazine, then editor. For a short period there, we traveled to all sorts of runway shows, even Milan.”

“Like real runways with the angry models?” Morgan dug out another Cheeto and popped it in her mouth. “Why don’t they smile, by the way?”

I picked up a twig from the ground and picked at the bark.

“Not sure if this is true, but I asked Savannah the same thing. She said it’d look unnatural if they smiled the whole time on the runway and it wouldn’t sell the clothes the right way.

Whatever that means. Honestly, I think it’s ’cause they’re hangry. ”

Morgan grinned. “How were the runway shows?”

Oh, those shows. For everything Savannah and I had in common, like music before film, photography before painting, sleeping in before hiking, there were a million other things we didn’t—these shows, high-end purses, dancing on tables, calamari ( gross ), the list goes on.

“The runway shows were boring as hell. Truly. Clothes no one would actually wear, most people were stuffy and fake, and really not my scene. Lots of air kisses and talk about getting together.” I snapped the twig in half and reached for another one.

“Not to me, of course. I was basically invisible, which suited me just fine.”

Maybe the runway shows should’ve indicated that Savannah and I were not meant to be. Sure, a free trip to Italy was nice, but Savannah lived for those shows. It made sense for Savannah in her profession, but I started zoning out whenever Savannah talked about the fall fashion lineup.

“So, can I ask what happened with you and…Savannah?” Morgan asked.

My foot tapped against the ground as my cells turned restless.

I grabbed two rocks and rolled them in my palm and, after a moment of silence, unleashed.

Morgan sat still, as I rambled about how sometimes love wasn’t enough and that I let politeness take over.

How Savannah had a sister who hated me, a mother who thought she’d settled, and during a hefty argument a few Thanksgivings ago between me and Savannah’s mom, Savannah didn’t stand up for me and it crushed me .

More time passed, and I talked about the work schedules, and how we made excuses to stay apart, how I started to morph into being more excited to see my sister than my wife.

The sun set, and the sky darkened. Morgan asked more questions, and I unloaded about us never addressing our issues, finally going to couples therapy, but when we were too polite to actually address anything, it was like the nail in the coffin.

“Neither of us wanted to fight for us, and it was obvious sitting in those sessions that we had nothing to save,” I said, tossing rocks against the earth. “In hindsight, the divorce would’ve been inevitable, no matter what we did.”

The bottom line was, Savannah and I were never soulmates, and I knew that in my heart.

There had only been one time in my life I felt like someone was my soulmate.

Only one time when I was so deeply in love, I felt the physical pain of my heart breaking when things ended.

And only one time where I spent a year wondering if I made the right choice.

I kept this part to myself, however.

My limbs seriously needed to move. Even though I’d been doing physical labor all day, my hands, legs, feet, everything needed some circulation.

And unless Morgan wanted to offer up her arms as a human fidget toy, I had to get back to work.

I stood and dusted off the seat of my pants.

“We should head out. The last thing we need is to hit a deer on these pitch-black country roads.”

“Good call.” Morgan lifted herself and grabbed the Cheetos bag. She looked at me for a moment and paused. “Thank you for sharing your story with me. It’s really nice getting to know this side of you.”

I moved in and hugged Morgan. Without hesitation, she hugged back.

A deep hug, a sturdy hug, one that said so many things without saying anything at all.

Morgan’s body pushed into me, her chest pressed against mine, and I swore I felt Morgan’s heartbeat thud against mine.

Even through the sweat and dust, that signature vanilla rose scent filled the air, and I dipped my head to inhale.

Morgan pulled back with a grin and squeezed my shoulders. “Good night.”

She got in her car, and I hopped in my truck, but there was so much more to say.

Unfortunately, I had no idea where to begin.