Cooper (The Family Simon #6) - Juliana Stone Page 0,73
and she felt as if she was going to puke, but still, she was here. She was going to deal with things and move on.
She got out of the car and headed inside the diner before she chickened out.
“My goodness, Morgan. Nice to see you, honey.” Jessie beamed at her from behind the counter and held up a coffeepot. “You want a cup? It’s fresh.”
Morgan nodded. “Please.”
“Grab a booth, and I’ll bring it over.”
The diner was nearly full, and Morgan nodded at the “gang of four” as she walked by. Used to be the “gang of five” until her father had pretty much become a hermit, but his old pals waved heartily and got back to their business of eating and talking. She slid into the last booth along the wall. It was in shadow and mostly out of sight, which suited her just fine. She’d just taken off her jacket when Jessie appeared with a fresh, steaming cup of java.
“Smells good,” Morgan murmured.
“Not as good as you look, sweetheart.” Jessie winked. “I guess the air is a bit fresher out at the McLaren place.”
Morgan sputtered and nearly choked on her coffee, while Jessie chuckled. “That’s all I’m going to say about that. You having breakfast? I’ve got fresh waffles and berries.”
“No, thank you. Coffee is good.”
“Okay. Just give me a shout if you need anything.”
Morgan glanced at her watch. Nathan would be here at any moment. She peeked around the corner of the booth, eyes on the door, and her stomach turned over when it opened. It wasn’t Nathan, and the relief that flooded her made Morgan wonder if this was a good idea after all.
She stared at her coffee cup, her thoughts fragmented, jumping from her father to Cooper to Nathan and Christy. When the hell had things gotten so complicated? For a girl stuck in limbo, all of a sudden there was a hell of a lot of movement in her life. Made a girl wonder, was she strong enough to handle it all?
“Hey.”
She jerked her head up, fingers hitting the edge of her coffee cup, and if Nathan hadn’t grabbed it, the blue ceramic mug would have ended up on the floor. Heart in her throat, she felt a wave of heat rush over her at about the same time her stomach took a tumble.
Nathan’s dark eyes stared down at her as he slowly pushed the cup back in front of her. His dark hair was still wet, as if he’d come straight from the shower, and his jaw was shadowed, just like always. Dressed casually in slacks, a white dress shirt, and a charcoal-gray spring coat, he was obviously on his way to work.
He slid into the booth across from her, and for a few seconds, neither one of them spoke. Nathan placed his hands on the table, hands that used to belong to her. Hands she used to hold. She stared at them a moment longer, not really sure how she felt about that.
“You look great, Morgan.” He spoke hesitantly, as if unsure how to proceed.
She didn’t answer him. Instead, she looked away, her gaze on the window, thinking about the things her father had said this morning. The things her sister Sara had said a few days earlier. And she realized something. She didn’t want to do this polite thing. Didn’t want to dance around the elephant between them.
“Why did you want to see me?” she asked, turning back to Nathan, her gaze direct.
He looked surprised at her question. Or maybe it was the tone of her voice. Had it been that long since she’d had the balls to say what was on her mind? She thought about it and realized that, yes, it had. Ages, actually.
“I thought we should talk.”
“Why?”
“I…” He muttered something under his breath, looking more than a little uncomfortable. “We haven’t really talked since, ah…” Again, struggling for the right words. She was only too happy to help him.
“Since you had your mother come to my house and tell me you and Christy had headed to LA?”
His cheeks burned red, and that made her feel good. He glanced away. “I’m sorry for that.”
“You should be. You’ve had six years to make it right.”
He winced at her words. Actually winced. And damn but it felt good. Emboldened, Morgan fingered the edge of her cup. “So why the need to see me now?”
“I…well… I didn’t know you’d moved back to Fisherman’s Landing.”