Chasing Heartbreak (Dark Love #6) - Kat T. Masen Page 0,82
wrong?”
“It’s Morgan. She has to fly out tonight for a last-minute meeting and asked if I can have Jessa all weekend.”
It’s supposed to be our first weekend together in which we have no plans but to lay in bed and watch Netflix. Keeping my expression stilled, I press my lips thoughtfully together to curb my disappointment.
“Is that okay?” he adds, eyeing me dubiously.
“Of course, she’s your daughter. You never have to ask.”
“I know, but it’s our first weekend.”
“Listen, we’ll have fun. So, Morgan knows, right?”
Noah rubs his neck, wincing while avoiding eye contact.
“Oh, bloody hell,” I berate, my British slang tumbling out in sheer frustration. “Vous êtes impossible!”
“Hey!” Noah scoffs, his face hardening. “Pick a language, will you? I’m not impossible. I told her you moved to the States and that we’re in a relationship.”
“But?”
“I just left out the part of you living with me…” he trails off in a softer tone.
I throw my head back into the seat, annoyed at his resistance to finally tell her the whole truth. “You need to grow some balls and tell her.”
“I have balls, thank you very much,” he notes in dark amusement. “In fact, you loved them in your mouth only an hour ago. I’ll tell her, I promise.”
“Well, you’re running out of time, buddy. Jessa will come over tonight, and what would you like me to do, magically disappear all weekend?”
“No,” he states firmly. “I’ll sort this out today.”
The ride to the office is quiet, each one of us keeping our thoughts to ourselves. It dampens my mood, and after we go our separate ways, I receive a text from Noah during an afternoon conference call.
Noah: It’s done.
I should’ve felt relieved, no more hiding our relationship, but it isn’t enough. I know that if I’m to be around Jessa and help Noah co-parent, I need to speak to Morgan face to face. I don’t want to always be communicating through Noah because, let’s face it, men can be hopeless at times.
Pressing dial on my phone, I let my temporary assistant know that I’ll be stepping out of the office for an hour. Grabbing my things, I remember that we drove to work in one car. Shit. Thinking quickly, I order an Uber and hope that the address I have is correct, and most importantly, Morgan is at her office.
Clutching my purse beneath my arm, I step into the fancy building and make my way to the receptionist’s desk. The red-headed bimbo with her obvious hair extensions plasters a fake smile as I ask for Morgan.
“She’s not taking appointments right now.”
“Well, perhaps if you give her my name, I’m certain she’ll see me.”
The young girl, clueless and a waste of office space, dials her number, bowing her head until she hangs up.
“Follow me.”
I walk behind her, noting her dress is way too short to be acceptable in the workplace. But this isn’t my office.
Stopping at the door, she ushers me in as my eyes meet Morgan’s from across the table.
“You may leave, Tiffany.”
I purse my lips, standing in place. “May I take a seat?”
Morgan remains silent. I sit down on the white leather chair, crossing my legs as my eyes gravitate toward her pictured frame of Jessa on her desk.
“I’d like to make it clear that Noah didn’t send me here, nor is he aware that I am here.”
Morgan looks perplexed, but beneath it, I see the eyes of a woman who has zero empathy for me right now.
“Then why are you here?”
“Noah has told you of our relationship and our living situation?”
“Why, yes.” She releases a disturbing laugh. “It’s all very last minute, isn’t it? I tell him I need to go away and ask if he can take Jessa, then he throws this giant curveball in my face like I’m not supposed to care.”
“I understand your concern.”
“Do you?” She stands, moving closer to the window to create distance between us. The red body-con dress she wears molds to her figure perfectly, matching the shade of lipstick applied to her full lips. “Do you understand what it’s like to be a mother of two children, one with special needs? And to have your husband bounce from woman to woman?”
“From memory, Michael came into your life, and you welcomed him with open arms, correct? You loved his father and made sacrifices to be the best stepmother you could be,” I inform her, trying to drive my point home but attempting to keep my tone controlled. “So, while I don’t have any biological