Page 46 of The Ex Effect (Meet Cute in Minnesota #1)

THIRTY

FRANKIE

For four glorious days, I never mentioned New York or dreams or jobs or plans with Morgan.

We were living on borrowed time, and we both treated it as such.

After Morgan called on Sunday to pick her up on the motorcycle—which in and of itself shocked the hell out of me—we flipped a switch and treated this time like a vacation.

Sunday afternoon, we went for a long motorcycle ride across country roads and ended up at Lake Superior to watch the sun set.

On Monday, we took the truck up to Grand Marais, strolled through an art fair, ate a ridiculous amount of cheese curds, and spent the night in the cutest cottage while listening to the frogs outside the window.

After I gave my dad back the motorcycle, and gifted him Peaches’s truck, Morgan took over as chauffer.

Tuesday and Wednesday were a mirror image.

Marathon movies, marathon bedroom time, and more takeout than should be legal.

The only time I even left Morgan’s side was to pack my suitcase to go back to New York.

And now, lying naked in my bed, I absentmindedly twirled a silky strand of Morgan’s hair around my finger as she slept on my chest.

The alarm went off and I choked up while turning it off.

I can’t believe this is over . I slid back into bed.

Maybe if I just lay here and didn’t move, time would stop.

Give us just a few more borrowed moments that I’d pay back when I was older.

Morgan stirred against me and I kissed the top of her head.

“Sorry, did I wake you?” I was pretty sure she’d been awake as long as me, however, staring at the same spot on the popcorn ceiling.

“No,” Morgan whispered.

After our shower, I stuffed my toothbrush in my toiletry bag and zipped it up.

My heart was heavy, beating a slow, groggy thump.

Leaving felt so different this time. So much more final.

Back then, when I left, I knew I could return if I needed.

But now, I was selling Peaches’s house, accepting my dream job, and leaving the love of my life. Nothing about this felt temporary.

I rolled the suitcases to the door and handed the house keys to Morgan. “Are you sure?—”

“Stop.” Morgan palmed the key. “Of course I am.”

Over our week of bliss, Morgan had said she felt like she owed me for everything I did for the wedding.

Even though I’d scoffed, Morgan had insisted and offered to finish getting Peaches’s house ready for sale.

“It’s nothing,” she’d said. “I’ll get a few guys to move the furniture, give it a good scrubbing, and meet the realtor.

We can even FaceTime a walk-through if needed. This will take an afternoon, tops.”

Of course, it would take more like a week, but I encouraged her to hire out for anything she needed, and Morgan could just supervise.

I turned to look one last time at the nearly bare house.

My gaze traveled the raggedy orange carpet, the faded wallpaper, the scuffed-up floor, and my chest tightened.

“Hey, I need a minute by myself,” I said to Morgan.

I needed a final, solo walk-through and to say goodbye to give me the closure I craved. “Meet you in the car, okay?”

“For sure. No rush.” Morgan grabbed a suitcase and opened the front door. “We still have plenty of time to get to the airport.”

Of course we did. When Morgan offered to drive, she calculated an arrival of a solid two and a half hours before departure—even though the Duluth airport only had three airlines, and I had never waited longer than twenty minutes in TSA.

But I learned by now, never, ever to question Morgan’s punctuality.

The sewing room is where I started my goodbyes. I stared at the faded yellow wallpaper, the bleach stain in the carpet, and the crack on the closet door. “Thank you for the memories,” I whispered.

I moved to the pink bathroom with the seashell soap dish and tile and said the same.

Through the guest bedroom, Peaches’s room, basement, the kitchen, I repeated this statement, each time my heart sealing.

The patio was the hardest, though. Scanning the lush green backyard with the huge maples and evergreens, the tire hanging from the rope, and the old shed, my chest ached.

No more tears existed in me, otherwise I’m pretty sure I would have bawled.

I took one last seat on the swinging bench and breathed.

This home would no longer be my comfort space but a lockbox holding my childhood memories. I patted the frame. “Goodbye.”

The ride to the airport was almost totally silent. There was nothing more to say. Words about regrets, love, and missing each other didn’t need to fill the space. This was an ending. A heartbreaking, gut-wrenching ending of something that could’ve been, but wasn’t.

Much-needed rain started. Good for the town, but the gray and clouds mirrored the dreary sentiments in the car.

Morgan turned for the exit to the airport and my breath seized.

I can’t do this. I can’t let Morgan go again.

My neck pricked with sweat. I swiped my wet palms down my thighs, then gripped the seatbelt that was cutting off circulation. This cannot be the end.

When Morgan eased the car up to the curb, I clutched her hand to my chest. “Come with me.” I cupped her face, my gaze dashing between her eyes, praying that she’d change her mind.

“Please, Morgan. Please. I’ll do anything.

I don’t want this to end. I want to do this with you, together.

We lost each other before, and we found each other, and this cannot be the end of us.

” A sob choked in my throat. “I know we can make this work. We can do anything . Morgan and Frankie against the world, just like old times. You’re stubborn, and I’m a fighter, and please… ”

Morgan’s eyes drooped. She kissed my palm and pressed it to her heart. Tears brimmed in her eyes, a look of sadness and regret contrasting hard with my desperation. “I can’t.”

“ Please .” My voice cracked and I swiped a tear dripping down my cheek.

“I know we can make this work. I’ve regretted for a lifetime leaving you here, not begging hard enough, not telling you everything.

So I’m telling you now. I love you . I love you so much that it is killing me inside, the thought of not being around you.

I want to be with you. I want you in my life, forever.

Please come with me. I can’t…I can’t do this without you. ”

Morgan cupped my face back. “You’re going to be amazing, you know that? And you’re going to be amazing on your own .” Her lips trembled, but she grinned through it. “You can do anything you set your mind to. Look at what you’ve done! You made it. You are the top of the top in your profession.”

“But—”

“I can’t live in your shadows, Frankie. I can’t leave Sam and the kids, and my home, my community.

I just can’t. They’ve pulled me up when I was at my lowest. They’ve rallied and carried me.

But I believe in you so fucking hard . I have always believed in you.

Don’t hold back, okay? Follow your dreams. I promise I will google everything you do.

” She pressed her forehead into mine and closed her eyes.

“I love you. I love you so much that it hurts. Watching you give this up for a life you never wanted, to be trapped in a box that was never meant to hold you, will kill me. I won’t do that to you. ”

I kissed Morgan, hard. There was no sweetness to it, no love, just desperation, pleading. “I love you, too.” I opened the door without another word and totally understood when Morgan did nothing else but pop the trunk and look straight ahead until I slammed the trunk shut.

I was doing the right thing. I knew this. But I had no idea it would hurt so fucking much.