Page 41 of The Ex Effect (Meet Cute in Minnesota #1)

TWENTY-SIX

FRANKIE

“A little higher. No, wait, tighter.” Morgan propped her hands on her hips. “No, definitely higher. Wait…definitely tighter.”

I dropped my arms and stared at Morgan as if that would make Morgan’s instructions any clearer.

I’d been up and down the ladder a dozen times today, stringing lights across the barn ceiling, and my arms burned.

Although that was probably less about stringing the lights, and more about the marathon sex sessions Morgan and I had been engaging in for the last two weeks.

I glanced down at Morgan’s pouty lips and grinned.

The stamina on that one, though. And I thought I was the athletic one in the relationship.

“Morgan,” I said, waiting for confirmation of life. “ Morgan .”

Morgan’s head snapped toward me. “What?”

“The lights are fine. Everything is fine. They look great. This place looks great.” I stepped off the ladder and swooped her into my arms. “Okay?”

Morgan leaned her head against my chest. “But I want it to be perfect.”

“It is perfect. ”

The venue was incredible. Against all odds, we had transformed this barn into a pretty spectacular wedding venue.

Of course, provided no one looked in the machine shed or three acres down the property, which turned into a busting-at-the-seams junkyard.

Hard to think just a few short months ago it was overflowing with tools, junk, and dirt.

And today, it damn near sparkled. The broken window was replaced, the floor sanded and stained, and the electrical and plumbing in full working order.

Even the inspector signed off. Now, two days before the wedding, we just needed to add the final touches.

The tables and chairs that were delivered this morning needed to be set up, the centerpieces placed, and the table settings set.

Delilah would deliver all the flowers the evening before the wedding.

Of course, there was no DJ. My blood boiled thinking about that Tag asshole and how close I had been to letting him meet my right hook.

I breathed it out, though, not needing any negative thoughts to send me down a rabbit hole.

Besides, Olivia’s cousin stepped up and said she’d manage a loudspeaker and a solid playlist from her phone.

Not ideal, but Tommy and Olivia were surprisingly cool about the situation—not that they had a lot of choice.

Not only was the venue perfect…so was Morgan.

Dammit . So fucking perfect. I watched Morgan as she moved to the side wall and was doing some sort of wedding-day sorcery by revamping the old window we replaced, with some greenery and white chalk paint.

Everything she touched morphed into something beautiful and special, and I was truly astounded. Which made my stomach turn.

After our first night together, we made a pact to not talk about the future.

Just not mention it at all and bask in the moment.

We were taking everything day by day. It was a huge leap of faith for both of us.

Morgan always had a plan, and this meant living without one.

Although I’m spontaneous in my daily life, I’m absolutely not when it comes to relationships.

And now, my time was coming to an end, and I still had no idea what the hell I was going to do.

I started unloading the folding chairs from the cart and set them up near the tables, stealing as many glances at Morgan as I could.

What would life look like if I stayed here?

The town was so much kinder and lovelier than I remembered.

With how often I frequented Connie’s Coffee and chatted with her niece Megan in the morning, we were damn near a second family at this point.

When I saw Joe from the hardware store at the gas station, we talked for ten minutes about the Vikings’ season.

I visited Zoey’s more often than I’d like to admit, because Zoey made the best salted caramel macaroons I had ever tasted.

On my last visit, I ended up staying for twenty minutes, discussing the upcoming back-to-school events in the fall.

I even talked to the neighbors—which I definitely didn’t do in New York—who stopped by multiple times, checking in on the progress on Peaches’s house.

Last week, after being burnt out beyond capacity from clearing out Peaches’s place, I told the neighbors to come through the garage and take anything they wanted.

In fact, I begged them to. Thank God they seemed to be of a similar hoarding nature as Peaches because they took a ton.

When they offered me money and I declined, a few days later they showed up with a homemade pecan pie, a beautiful crocheted scarf, and a tater-tot hot dish.

Somehow, I’d reattached myself to this town and it had started to feel like home again.

And I’d fallen, 100 percent, head over heels, back in love with Morgan.

But moving back here meant starting back at the beginning.

In New York, I’d built a reputation and clientele.

I had an apartment I loved and lived in the city of my dreams. NYC had been my home nearly as long as Spring Harbors.

Quinn was there. Friends, and memories, and a city that welcomed me with open arms as a scared eighteen-year-old, and I couldn’t just leave it.

Metal chairs fell from the cart, and the sharp piercing clank echoed against the hallow room. “Damn, sorry.”

Morgan looked over her shoulder. “You okay? Need me?”

I will always, always need you . “No, I’m good.” I unfolded the chairs and pushed them under the table.

A long-distance thing might work temporarily until we really figured out what to do.

But, ultimately, that was never a way I wanted to live.

I deserved more, and so did Morgan. And I had to be realistic, Morgan was never leaving Sam and the kids.

Her home, family, community, the niece and nephews she loved as her own children, her business…

Morgan was here to stay. So I was at a total loss.

The idea of leaving Morgan gutted me. I wanted her folded into me at night, to taste her and kiss her and have her hold on to me during scary movies.

“Hey, do you have that extra box of tulle in your truck?” Morgan called out from behind the bar as she unpacked wine glasses.

“Yeah, I think so. Want me to grab it for you?” I asked.

“Yes please. And if you could bring in a soda and maybe those chips from my trunk, that’d be awesome.” Morgan looked back at me with a grin. “You’re the best, you know that?”

“Sure do.” I smirked. “It’s going to be a minute. I need to call Quinn back when I’m out there.”

Morgan hovered a box cutter over the next wine case and slit it open. “Is she still dealing with the work drama?”

“Always.” Poor Quinn. She was never not dealing with work drama.

The night of the fiasco with that dickweed Tag, Quinn apparently had a major blowup with her manager because she didn’t properly index something on an email—whatever the hell that even meant—and he laid into her in front of everyone.

I could never work with someone like Quinn’s boss, but for whatever reason, she held on for dear life .

Outside, I squinted into the sun. Thank God the heat broke. Even though the barn would be warm for the reception, with all the shade, fans, and a single portable air conditioner at the head table, we’d make it through without our skin melting off.

When Quinn didn’t answer the phone, I grabbed the tulle and started heading back inside when my brain flickered. What else, what else? Oh yeah. Food and drink. I spun on my heels to go back to the car when my phone vibrated.

An unknown number flashed across my screen, and I almost didn’t answer it. But it was a New York City area code, and God knows if it was Quinn calling from an office landline because something happened with her phone.

“Hi, I’m looking for Frankie,” the voice on the other end of the line said.

Suspicious. Probably trying to sell me something. “That’s me…”

“Hi, Frankie! This is Lorena from Birch & Willow . Is this an okay time to talk?”

I froze. Birch & Willow. Holy shit. A pinprick of nerves needled my neck. “Yes, of course, now’s a great time.” I glanced behind my shoulder, then rushed onto the lawn out of earshot.

“I just want to say thank you so much for your patience as our team worked through all the portfolios,” Lorena said. “This took much longer than we expected, and we in no way wanted the applicants to think the delay was a reflection on their talents.”

My pulse thudded in my neck. Was this the nicest rejection in the world, or a job offer?

As Lorena continued talking about the grueling decision-making process, the top-tier talent, and a delay in the decision-making process due to a small department reorganization, Morgan peeked her head out of the barn.

The sun beamed down, her blonde hair even paler under the rays, her golden sun-kissed cheeks, and she was glowing.

Sure, sweaty and messy, but perfect. Morgan was everything that was missing in my life, everything I needed.

Morgan made the phone gesture with her pinkie and thumb and rolled her eyes with a wink. She grabbed the broom on the outside of the porch and went back inside.

“Anyway, I promise I’m not normally this wordy, but I really wanted you to have the full context so you know we didn’t take this decision lightly,” Lorena said. “The team here at Birch & Willow would love to offer you the position.”

My heart stopped beating. I cannot believe I did it . All the years of work, sacrifices, honing my craft, learning to believe in myself, trust myself, everything paid off. I was good enough. I, alone, earned my spot.

“Frankie? You still with me?”

I paced in a circle with my hand held to the back of my neck. “Yes, of course. I… Wow. Thank you so much. Truly. I’ve been such a huge fan of your brand for years. As an artist, this offer is an absolute dream come true.” Oh God, oh God . This was actually happening.

“If you’re interested, we’d love to get you onboarded within two weeks. Sorry about the short turnaround time. But with the delays, we need to get working right away on the holiday campaign. HR will reach out with paperwork, exact timing, and begin salary negotiations.”

Salary. Benefits. A 401K, real health insurance, and paid time off.

Being a freelancer for my entire career, this was completely unheard of.

I scratched at my neck, the words swirling as Lorena chatted about next steps, coming into the office for onboarding, and something about sending an offer letter, but my brain short-circuited with all the information.

“Do you have questions for me?”

“Oh, uh, no. I don’t think so.” Heat filled my chest. My dream was right here, within touching distance. And Morgan was right in there, a few yards away .

A pause followed. “So…do you accept?”

This was the opportunity of a lifetime. And, without a doubt, Morgan was the love of my life. This was one of the single greatest moments of my life, and the most gut-wrenching. Birch & Fucking Willow wanted me . The decision weighed on top of me and I held my breath for so long, I became dizzy.

“Thank you so much for the offer.” I exhaled. “I accept.”