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Morgan nodded, feeling a weight lifted off his shoulders. ‘Of course, I totally get that.’
‘And I don’t want to do anything before the wedding.’ She sucked in a shaky breath. ‘I don’t want anything to cloud Shanti and my brother’s big day.’
He gave her a small smile of understanding. ‘I completely agree. We can’t allow this to ruin their special day. That’s the last thing any of us want.’
Annie nodded, looking relieved. ‘Thank you for understanding. I’ll make sure to talk to you before I do anything else.’ She wiped at her eyes one last time, taking a deep breath. ‘I should probably head off now, before Jess arrives home. I don’t want her to see me like this, because then I’ll have to lie about why.’ She reached out and hugged him. ‘Thank you for being here for me. It means a lot.’
He hugged her tight. ‘I’m here for you any time; you’re like a sister to me.’
She stepped back and looked at him sadly. ‘I really wish you and Jess had gotten married.’
‘Me too, Annie, me too.’ He couldn’t hide the dejection from his voice.
‘You’re a good man, Morgan Savage, one in a bazillion.’ She placed a hand over his heart, which was breaking beneath. ‘Talk soon.’ She dropped her hand back to her side and turning, headed back to her car.
Morgan watched her drive away as relief flooded him.
Finally, after all these years, the truth was going to set him free.
CHAPTER
17
Dreams of a white picket fence surrounding a quaint farmhouse, with her and Morgan sitting on the verandah, her hand upon her swollen belly as she watched their two children playing in the backyard, came to Jess as she slept. It felt so peaceful, so real, so blissful, she didn’t want it to end. But reality wasn’t having a bar of her fantasies when the screeching of her alarm clock woke her. Grabbing it from her bedside table before her eyes had time to open, she tossed it across the room. It bounced off the cupboard door and landed back at her feet, still resounding.
‘Blasted thing!’ She tossed back the covers that she’d tugged over her head. ‘Argh.’ Scrambling to the foot of the bed, she snatched it up and thumped the top, halting its incessant beeping noise.
Huffing, she plonked it back in its place. Rubbing her eyes, she tried to shake off the lingering images of her dream as she sat up on the edge of the bed. It hurt like hell to know she’d never, ever have such a life with Morgan. And it hurt even more to know another woman would, one day, because he was way too lovable to remain single forever. She could feel her heart breaking down the middle at the thought of Chiara never having a normal life with Morgan if it turned out he was her father, and all because of her stupid decision, all those years ago. Taking deep breaths to try and calm herself, she tried to shake off the feeling of disappointment. She had no right, no right at all, to take ownership over Morgan. But her dream had been so vivid, so real, so spellbinding.
Sighing, she ran her fingers through her tangled bed hair. It was foolish of her to dream of a life that was impossible. In reality, she was a divorced single mother, quite often struggling to make ends meet, with a secret that had her stuck on shaky ground. There was no white picket fence, no farmhouse, no husband, no happy ending. Just her and Chiara, living in a tiny apartment all the way over the other side of the world, far away from those she loved with all her heart and soul.
Reality was really sinking in.
She shook her head, trying to clear the thoughts from her mind. She needed to focus on the present, on what she could do to make a good life for herself and Chiara. That’s what she had some control over. As for the results she would learn in a few days’ time, when she got back to Florence, well, she would deal with all of that then.
Rising, she walked over to her cupboard, tugged out a T-shirt and a pair of shorts, and began getting dressed for the day. As she tied her hair up in a messy bun, she tried to push aside her thoughts of Morgan and their impossible dream life. She had to focus on the reality of her situation. She had a job to go back to, bills to pay, and a beautiful daughter to take care of. She couldn’t afford to get lost in her reveries. Her life wasn’t some fairy tale. It was raw and real and quite often tough.
As she opened her bedroom door, the mouth-watering scents of bacon and coffee lured her faster down the staircase, as did the sound of Morgan’s voice, all husky and deep, singing along with Waylon Jennings. Passing through the lounge room, and down the hallway, she stopped short of stepping into the kitchen when she was met by the man, literally, of her dreams, wearing nothing but a pair of boxers. She’d seen him without a shirt before, but it was still all she could do not to drool.
Clearing her throat, she stepped into the kitchen, trying her best to ignore the heat that flooded her cheeks. ‘Good morning.’ Her voice sounded a little too high-pitched as she tried to avert her gaze from his perfectly sculpted body.
Turning, Morgan greeted her with a charismatic dimpled smile. ‘Oh, hey, Jess, sleep well?’ Something within his gaze hinted at a familiar kind of mischief.
‘Apart from a mosquito who thought it’d be grand to invade my room for the night, I sure did.’ Caught red-handed, in Morgan Savage’s cookie jar, she laughed a little like a hyena. ‘How about you?’ she added, recovering as fast as she could.
Did he know she’d been standing there, watching him?
‘Not guilty, I didn’t invade your room.’ He lifted a broad shoulder, a cheeky grin quirking his lips as he waited for her to cotton on to his joke, and once she did, a little later than she should have, he rolled his blue eyes and grinned. ‘I slept pretty good, thanks.’
Jess grinned back, appreciating the banter. It was good to have a friend like Morgan, someone who knew her well enough to make her laugh. ‘Well, the smell of bacon and coffee certainly beats a mosquito any day.’ She shimmied past him at the stove. ‘Would you like a cuppa?’
‘Yeah, why not, thanks, Jess.’ He passed her an already used mug. ‘Be my second one for the morning.’ He leant against the counter, his bare chest on full display. ‘I’ve whipped up a decent breakfast, so I hope you’re hungry.’
‘Mm-hmm.’ Ravenous for more than just food, Jess couldn’t help but admire the intricate designs of his tattoos. ‘I’m very, very hungry.’
‘Good, because I’ve made enough to feed a small army.’ He chuckled and got back to business at the frypan.
Her eyes fell to the thin scattering of hair at the waistband of his boxers right before she busied herself making them both coffees, all the while perving at him whenever she got the chance. Talk about being glued to his bare chest and pecs.
