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I flinched but tried to keep my tone steady. “Why is it so far-fetched?” I asked, setting my cup down with a slight tremble in my hand.
“Because Foster is an asshole, Erika.” She pushed her plate away, the scrape of porcelain loud against the table. “What the hell happened to you while I was away?”
“Nothing. Everything.” I murmured, feeling the weight of my confusion settle deeper into my chest. “I’m scared, Morgan.”
Her expression softened as she reached across the table, her hand warm as it covered mine. “Why are you scared?” she asked gently, her thumb brushing over my knuckles.
“Two men want me, but I guess it’s down to one since I fucked it up with Lincoln,” I confessed, my voice breaking. “He hates me.”
Morgan’s brow furrowed. “He doesn’t hate you.”
“I hurt him,” I whispered, my gaze dropping to the table. “I told him I kissed Foster, and I haven’t heard from him in days. Isn’t it obvious?”
Morgan hesitated, her eyes searching mine before she sighed. “Do you want me to talk to Michael about Lincoln?”
My head shot up, and I shook it quickly. “As much as I’d appreciate that, I don’t want to put you in jeopardy.”
“Jeopardy?” She frowned, pulling her hand back as she leaned away from me. “How?”
“Michael loves you, and I know you love him,” I said softly, watching as her expression tightened.
Morgan recoiled slightly, her eyes narrowing. “I don’t love him. I’m married,” she snapped, her tone defensive.
“That doesn’t mean you can’t love someone else,” I replied, my voice barely above a whisper.
“It’s a moot point,” she said, her tone clipped as she took a deep breath. “Let’s get back to you.”
I exhaled shakily, my nerves fraying at the edges. “I’m a mess, Morgan. What do I do?”
“Why would you even think about going back to Foster?” she asked, her voice rising again as she gestured wildly. “He fucked up your head and broke off the engagement. He made a bad situation worse.”
“I told him that,” I replied, feeling the familiar sting of old wounds. “He said he was young and clueless back then.”
Morgan scoffed, rolling her eyes. “He wasn’t clueless. He was rich and looking to get as much pussy as he could. Foster didn’t want to be chained down at such a young age.”
I swallowed hard, memories of the past flashing in my mind. “You tried to warn me back then.”
“Yeah, I did,” she said, her voice softening. “Because I loved you. I still do. You’re my best friend, and I’ll do anything for you.” She leaned in closer, her eyes serious. “That’s why I’m going to put my cards on the table.”
“Cards?” I asked, my brow furrowing in confusion.
“Foster hasn’t changed,” she said firmly, her gaze unwavering. “He just wants what he wants.”
I bit my lip, my heart racing. “He wants to take me to Italy.”
Morgan’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Don’t get caught up in his bullshit,” she warned, shaking her head. “I might be going out on a limb, but I think you’re making a huge mistake by giving him any hope.”
Without a word, I reached into my purse, pulling out the small black box Foster had sent to my apartment two days ago. I slid it across the table, my hand trembling slightly.
“Open it,” I said, my voice sounding distant to my own ears.
Morgan’s eyes flickered with a mix of curiosity and dread as she dropped her fork into her endive salad. She hesitated for a moment before flipping open the box. Her jaw dropped when she saw the five-carat emerald-cut engagement ring nestled inside, the platinum setting glinting in the sunlight.
“He wants to marry me,” I said, the words feeling unreal as they left my lips.
Morgan’s gaze snapped back to mine, her voice dropping to a whisper. “Did you sleep with him?”
I shook my head, feeling the burn of unshed tears. “No. I wanted to, but I didn’t.”
