Page 47 of The Ex Effect (Meet Cute in Minnesota #1)

THIRTY-ONE

MORGAN

My shaky hands couldn’t grip the steering wheel.

I clutched it, tried to control the tremors, then pounded against it with my fists.

“Why!” I screamed, my heart ripping from my chest. Why did the universe bring Frankie back to my life just to rip her away?

What sort of cruel, effed-up joke was this?

The back of my throat stung, an unreleased sob tearing into me, as I traveled down the road back to my place.

No, no. I couldn’t go home. Frankie’s scent would be lingering in the sheets, and I couldn’t deal with that now. Maybe never. Maybe I’d have to burn my goddamn house down so I never had to think of her again.

The wipers squeaked against the windshield, leaving streaks of rain.

I pressed my palm into my eye socket to wipe the tears.

If I didn’t get off the road, I was going to get in an accident.

My stomach clenched, holding in the guttural cry, burning my insides.

I didn’t want to talk to Sam, I didn’t want to eat, I didn’t want to think. But I needed to do something .

I jerked the car to the left lane. “Go!” I yelled at a vehicle in front of me. My insides were boiling, a dam about to burst. On autopilot, the car led me to the shore. I screeched to a stop, slammed the doors, and ran to the beach.

The soggy sand squished beneath my feet and I collapsed to my knees, sobbing into my hands.

This wasn’t real. It couldn’t be real. How was Frankie gone again?

I cried so long that I didn’t know what was rain and what was my tears.

Trickles dripped down my chin into my palms, my hair matted to my cheeks.

When there were no more tears left to shed, I plopped down on the wet sand and pulled my knees to my chest. The seizing in my lungs slowed until finally my shoulders slumped.

The rain pelted at the lake and danced on the surface, the tiny ripples the only movement on the otherwise still water.

My eyes focused so hard that the water morphed into a mirage.

Lake Superior had always been like a big warm mug filled with hot cocoa on a frosty night.

I celebrated there, cried there, slept with Frankie for the first time there.

Did New York even have freaking lakes? Logically, I knew it did, but that state was as foreign to me as a different country.

What did it matter, though? This area was my home, and I’d never give it up.

Digging my fingertips into the sand, I sighed. I gathered a fistful of rocks and tossed them in one by one. Letting Frankie go so she could follow her dreams was absolutely the right thing to do. A no-brainer decision that I’d make a million times over again.

But, God, it hurt. It hurt so much that I knew I’d never recover. The ache in my heart might fade, but it would never leave. Why did this have to be so hard? Life was unfair and cruel, and I was just so goddamn sick of it. Of everything. I hurled a rock with so much force I felt my shoulder pop.

The rock plopped into the water and was quickly swallowed to the bottom.

I tossed another, and another. My breaths evened out and my heartbeat slowed.

So, Frankie was following her dreams. What’s my dream?

For so long it was building my own business.

Then for the last several years, it was keeping that business afloat.

The dream shifted into survival, and less about the actual dream.

But now, with four new events booked this week, my business would be fine. Everything was looking up.

So, then, what was my new dream? I tossed another rock, hoping it would give me clarity. My dream was to be in love, have my own fabulous wedding, and a wife, and maybe a sweet senior rescue dog that we’d nestle between us on lazy afternoons.

But I was already in love. So madly, deeply, painfully in love, and I wasn’t sure I’d have that same love with anyone else. “GOD!” My scream was muffled against the rain.

Frankie was my dream. Frankie had always been my dream.

Was my dream to be with Frankie? And if that was my dream, was I really ready to let that go?

I stared at the dock. Almost twenty years ago, I was at a fork-in-the-road decision, and I chose the more practical one.

My entire life, I’d been nothing but practical.

Was I really ready to give this all up? For love?

That’s completely asinine. Who throws away everything for love?

Or! Or, should I give it a shot? Sacrifice one type of life for another.

No…I can’t…right? What the hell was happening here?

I could not be considering what I was considering.

The emotions of this day, this week, this summer were messing with my head.

That was the only explanation for this nagging sensation in my gut.

The rain tickled my face, and I blinked off the drops from my eyelashes.

Think clearly. Now was not the time to make a rash decision.

I palmed the rocks and breathed in. My entire life, I used logic to drive my decisions. Ruled by my brain and never my heart. And it fared well for me, for the most part. I was happy, I was loved, I had a great family .

But wasn’t I thriving? Did I need to be in a relationship to soar? No.

But did I want to be in a relationship, a secure one, with someone I knew to my core?

Yes. Unequivocally, overwhelmingly, without a damn doubt in my mind, yes.

My heart started to pound. Oh my God…am I actually going to do this?

What would my world look like if I took a chance, a real chance, and chose love first?

Fifteen years ago, I made the decision that was best for me at the time. Now I needed to do the exact same thing.

I dropped the rocks and sprinted back to the car, wiping the wet sand from my butt.

I squealed out of the parking lot. Yes, the adrenaline was talking, and yes, none of this made sense, and God dammit, maybe this time things didn’t need to make sense.

Maybe practicality and organization and following clear perfect lines was not my life plan. Maybe I needed more. Deserved more.

“Move!” I yelled at a driver in the passing lane who slogged two miles above the speed limit. I swerved into the middle lane, then back to the left lane, and accelerated.

What was I thinking? This was crazy, right? I’d never been spontaneous, never done something like this, and maybe I could just try. For once, I could do something completely out of the norm and what was expected.

I grabbed my phone. “Dammit.” Frankie’s phone kept sending me to voicemail, but I tried one more time and finally gave up.

In the airport parking lot, I screeched to a stop.

Never before would I have rushed through a place looking like I did, wet clothes, matted hair, beach sand stuck to my backside, but I didn’t care.

The only thing I cared about was stopping Frankie before she got on that flight.

I wrapped a sweatshirt around my waist and sprinted inside.

I had exactly twenty-five minutes before the flight left.

Just enough to buy a ticket, catch her, and see her reaction in person.

Who needed a suitcase and clothes and toiletries when I had this ?

Thank God the security lines weren’t terrible, but my forehead beading with sweat probably put me on the TSA daily watchlist. Five minutes left until boarding, and I ran like I’d never run before, nearly plowing into a toddler who rushed into my line of fire.

“Sorry, sorry,” I said to the mom, who whipped me a hell of a death stare.

My heartbeat pulsed in my veins. The air in my lungs was almost gone, but who needed air? Who need anything? I had love, for God’s sake!

I weaved through people lugging suitcases and strollers and saw Frankie’s gate.

Finally! Breathless, my eyes scanned the area.

The chairs were almost vacant minus a few stragglers, but the line of people holding their boarding tickets was long.

Hope burst from my chest. Frankie didn’t board yet.

I was sure of it. The stars aligned, the universe was playing a fate game, the lesbian gods were smiling upon us.

I stopped to catch my breath, my body tingling, on fire, and filled with so much joy I could scream.

Where is she? Maybe the bathroom or grabbing a quick snack?

As the minutes ticked by, my breath evened out.

I scanned the crowd. Over and over, I watched the passengers until there were none.

When the attendant grabbed the microphone and announced the doors would close, I slunk into a chair.

My breath caught in my throat, the intoxicating, thrilling chasing sensation seeped from my body until I was forced back into reality.

The finality of it all broke me. It was a beautiful moment, a burst of childlike wonderment, rare impulsivity, and every romance movie I’d ever seen.

Somehow, I naively thought I’d just show up at the airport and get on the plane with Frankie, and we’d lead out our merry lives.

But that didn’t happen. My heart sank into my stomach.

Frankie was gone .

I propped my elbows on my knees and sunk my head into my hands.

Sure, I could get a flight on a different day, actually think through this terribly thought-out plan, but the moment was over.

The adrenaline rush subsided. I was never meant to go with Frankie, and I needed this to bring me back down to earth.

Out the window the airplane ascended, taking my dreams with it.

An hour later, I pulled into my garage and shut the door. I dragged myself into a hot shower, then pulled on my pajamas. Despite the intense and swirling emotions of the last few hours, now that I was back home, I knew my actions were a momentary blip. I’d never leave my home.

So now what? I’d get Peaches’s house together for Frankie, check in with her about her new job, and then slowly ease myself away until Frankie was a beautiful memory. As much as that killed me, there was no other option.

Even though it was the dead of summer, I dug through my cabinet for tea. The teapot started rattling to life when I heard a car door slam. Must be the neighbors . Then, a few footsteps sounded on my porch. My ears perked.

Then, a knock.

I squinted and moved to the door. My heart leaped into my throat. It couldn’t be. I looked again.

It was.