Page 36 of The Ex Effect (Meet Cute in Minnesota #1)

TWENTY-THREE

FRANKIE

The tingling sensation of Morgan’s mouth on mine lingered long after I returned home.

I brushed my fingertip across my lip, picturing her warm mouth on mine.

Fuck. What in the hell was I thinking? Stupid, stupid, stupid.

What an emotional wreck of a day. A month.

A summer. I needed to finish this stuff up here, hop on a flight back to New York City, and forget everything about this town.

Or did I? Ugh. I taped together yet another box, one of the last in the basement, and lugged it upstairs to the main floor.

I’m surprised my body hadn’t started rejecting cardboard particles or adhesive and burst a nasty rash across my skin.

Once I got Peaches’s place packed up, I was never moving again.

The main floor was nearly empty, the bedroom almost completely packed. After I tackled the garage, which I seriously considered just burning because it’d be easier, I’d be done. Finally, I could put the house on the market.

My phone buzzed on the kitchen counter with a message.

Morgan? I sprinted across the room. Nope .

Just a reminder to make a yearly wellness exam.

Granted, only a few hours had passed since I kissed her, but I thought she’d reach out.

And my God…what a kiss. Her lips were as sweet as I remembered, but more womanly, more intentional.

I can’t believe I did that . And I wanted to do more.

If anyone ever challenges me on my willpower again, I will enter this into exhibit A.

It took everything in me to not drag her into the bedroom.

But I couldn’t. We couldn’t. The Great Heartbreak Era of fifteen years ago could not be repeated.

No matter what my body was screaming at me to do, I wouldn’t put myself, or Morgan, through that again.

I flopped down on a barstool and dialed Quinn. Before she even finished saying hello, I blurted, “I kissed Morgan.”

“Well, holy shit. Good afternoon to you, too,” Quinn said. “So tell me, sailor, what’s behind door number two? Happiness or sadness?”

What a loaded question, and I hadn’t processed it enough to know the answer.

Right now, sad at myself for walking away, but also patting myself on the back for doing the right thing.

God, doing the right thing sucked. “You did not just call me ‘sailor.’ Seriously, are you ninety?” I picked up a marker at the table and tapped it against the laminate top.

“Confusion maybe? I don’t know. Christ, it was a stupid move, though. ”

Quinn’s heavy breathing showed she was most likely doing a speed walk around the outside of her office building. “Stupid how? Like stupid when I agreed to share a cab with that sketchy dude downtown? Or stupid like you’re worried about getting all butt-hurt and broken?”

“No one in the world says ‘butt-hurt’ anymore. You really need to get out of the office.” My limbs needed to move.

Tapping my fingers on the counter didn’t help alleviate the need to burn energy.

I paced the kitchen, then hall, then back to the kitchen.

“And yes. I’m worried about getting hurt.

You know what a hot mess I was after she and I broke up.

I couldn’t deal with it. But now I’m doing stuff, what, ’cause I’m horny?

’Cause it’s been almost two years since I’ve had sex with anyone. ”

“ Two years? Christ, no wonder you’re cranky all the time. ”

“Quinn,” I snapped.

“Okay, okay, sorry. Obviously, I know you haven’t dated since Savannah. I just didn’t know you were flying the celibate flag.” Her breathing slowed and she exhaled. “So, what did you do after you landed a fat one on her?”

I left. As usual. Per my MO. What was wrong with me?

Communication avoidance was clearly my drug of choice.

With Savannah, with Morgan, with everyone.

I’m not even one of those people who are afraid of conflict, and yet I run like a child.

My stomach knotted. “Nothing. I just left the house. And before you even say a word, yes, I feel shitty about it, but trust me, had I stayed, I would’ve felt shittier because I know what would’ve happened.

” Pacing inside was still not helping. I opened the patio doors to roam the yard.

“I just don’t know what to do. I swear being around Morgan is like putting on my old basketball jersey.

Like so comfortable, so familiar. She knows me, you know?

Not photographer me. Not New York me. Just me. ”

“God, that’s appealing. I think of how fake we are in our normal lives, pretending to like people we don’t, smiling when we want to scream.

” The sounds of cars honking faded as Quinn must’ve stepped inside a building.

“It takes forever to get to that comfortable space. Skipping all that and diving directly into the deep end sounds like some kind of wonderful.”

I scraped at a tree trunk with my booted toe. Quinn was right. Dating was miserable. When I did it before Savannah, I’d come home exasperated or annoyed. Putting on my best face, watching what I said, tiptoeing around political issues… No wonder when Savannah and I clicked, I jumped in headfirst.

So, was Morgan just a convenience?

No . She was so much more. Deep down, in my core, Morgan had always been something else.

My one true love .

“It’s not fun doing all the bullshit pleasantries, that’s for sure.

” I snapped off a dry branch from the tree and twisted it in my hand.

“But I’m going to be back in the city in just a few weeks.

Maybe I’ll push it out until the end of August, but if I don’t get the Birch & Willow gig, I need to book more jobs.

” I crossed the yard and pushed the twig against the tire swing.

“And then what? I try to maintain some sort of long-distance thing with her? It’s not logical, or practical, for me to start things back up with Morgan. ”

A huff came through the phone. “Since when are you known for your practicality? God love ya, sis, but you are more impulsive than the average bear. You’ve always trusted your gut.

How about you just keep doing that? Stop trying to explain things, justify things, and worry about things.

Just go for it. Whatever that looks like.

At least this time you both know exactly what you’re getting into. ”

Was Quinn right? Sometimes I questioned her judgment, like staying at her god-awful job over the years. But right now, I was pretty sure she was the voice of reason I needed to get out of my head. I might just jump through the phone and squeeze my sister. “God, I love you.”

“Love you, too. Now, I seriously need to drop before I get fired. Although at this point, getting fired sounds as wonderful as going to a day spa.”

I frowned. “Still that bad?”

“ Always that bad.” Quinn chuckled. “See ya. Call me later when you figure out the rest of your life.”

After I hung up, I hovered my fingers over the screen. Text Morgan, or don’t text Morgan? It shouldn’t be this hard. Did I want to talk to Morgan? Yes. Then, great, pick up the damn phone. Did I not want to talk to her? Kind of. Cool, then stop thinking about her.

What an emotional roller coaster of a day.

It was five million hours ago when I was in Delilah’s flower shop wondering why Morgan was late.

The hint of losing Morgan when I heard about the accident freaked me out so much that all I wanted to do right now was to wrap Morgan in my arms and keep her safe.

But I had a lifetime of making impulsive decisions, and this could not be one of them.