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Fate, it seemed, had conspired to make this evening unlike any other I’d spent here, and while there was something perhaps romantic about that notion, I suspected I was reading too much into it. Paige, I knew, would agree with that, but as I continued to take in the thunderstorm, I knew it was something I nonetheless wanted to believe.
Still, I wished that I could have spoken with Paige, if only to ask if what was happening to me was normal. Did love carry with it the power to make a person question everything? Did love make a person want to become someone new? When I thought about Paige and her experience, I wasn’t quite sure. She’d been in love once, but she seldom spoke about it, other than to tell me that love and pain were two sides of the same coin. I understood why she’d said it, but I sometimes caught her reading romance novels, so I doubted she was that jaded. I suspected she would understand what I was going through now. I remembered that once she’d met her husband-to-be, she suddenly wasn’t around much in the evenings, and in the rare times she was, she seemed buzzy and lighthearted. At the time, I was so wrapped up in my own world, I didn’t think much about it, other than to be happy that she and my aunt were getting along. It wasn’t until she announced over dinner that she was leaving the farm that I realized how serious things had become with her boyfriend. A phone call followed not long after she moved away, announcing that she’d been married by a justice of the peace. The whole thing struck me as dizzyingly fast—I’d met the guy just once, and only for a few minutes, when he picked up Paige for a date. One day she was the Paige I’d always known, and the next I questioned whether I’d been living with a stranger my entire life. Now, however, I had an inkling of what she was feeling back then; I was starting to grasp that love followed its own timeline and made even radical changes almost inevitable.
I wished I’d brought in my guitar from the truck. Playing something—anything—would have helped me sort through it all, but given the storm, I decided to leave it where it was. Instead, I found my phone and pulled up a playlist of the songs I had written, the ones I thought were my best. I set the phone on the coffee table and had another drink of wine, then returned to the glass doors, reliving the memories that had inspired each of the songs and wondering what would have happened had my uncle not passed away. I wasn’t sure that I would have stayed on the farm, but would I have attempted to make music a career, in the same way Morgan was trying to do? At the time it didn’t seem possible—and maybe it wasn’t—but I couldn’t shake a newfound sense of disappointment that I’d never given it a try. Morgan’s ambition had ignited something long dormant in me—even as I accepted the idea that she was far more talented than I.
I heard a noise behind me and stole a look over my shoulder. Morgan had returned to the living room with the candle cupped in her hands. She wore a different sundress, with a low scooped neck, and I couldn’t help but stare at her. Her hair, like mine, was still slightly damp, the thick waves glinting in the candlelight. The smudge of mascara on her cheek had vanished, but I saw that she’d applied a little makeup that accented her dark eyes and gave her lips a deep, glossy sheen; her arms and legs glowed like satin. I felt my breath catch in my throat.
She paused a few feet from me, as if basking in my gaze.
“You’re…beautiful,” I said, my voice almost hoarse.
Her lips parted as she exhaled, and I suddenly saw in her unguarded expression that her feelings mirrored my own. Open and hungry, her expression told me everything I needed to know: Like me, she had fallen in love with a stranger, upending both of our lives. Moving to the coffee table, she wordlessly set her candle next to mine. She surveyed what I’d set out, then took a moment to focus on the music drifting from my phone.
“You?” she asked.
“Me,” I said.
“I don’t think I’ve heard this one.”
I swallowed. “It’s not one I usually play at my shows.”
My voice sounded strangely distant, and I watched as she sat on the couch. As I moved to take a seat next to her, her sundress lifted slightly, revealing a flash of her smooth thigh, a sight that struck me as intensely erotic. I motioned toward the wine. “Would you like a glass?”
“I’m fine,” she answered. “But thank you.”
“I wasn’t sure if you’d be hungry.”
“I had something to eat right after we got back. But I might have a strawberry in a minute. They look delicious.”
“I bought them. I didn’t make them.”
“I’m still impressed.”
I knew I was talking around the edges of things, but it seemed to be all I could do. With my throat going dry again, I took another sip of wine. In the silence, I had the sudden sense that she was just as nervous as I was, which I found oddly comforting.
“The changes you made to the song were beautiful,” she offered.
So are you, I wanted to say, but didn’t. “You were my inspiration,” I said, trying to sound casual but knowing that I failed.
“I wondered….” she whispered, allowing her hair to fall over her face. Then: “I thought about you all day. Missing you.”
I reached out to take her hand and felt Morgan’s fingers interlock with mine. “I’m glad you’re here now.”
I sensed the expectant tension in her hand as she held mine, and I thought again about kissing her. Her eyes were half closed, her mouth partly open, but just as I leaned toward her, a phone began to ring, faint but insistent. When she realized it wasn’t my phone, she let go of my hand and rose from the couch. After disappearing into the hallway, she peeked out, ringing phone in hand. She seemed uncharacteristically flustered.
“It’s my mom,” she explained, her tone sheepish. “She’s called a couple of times and I haven’t gotten back to her.”
“You should probably answer, then.”
She reluctantly hit the appropriate button and put the phone to her ear.
“Hey, Mom,” Morgan said. “What’s up?…Yeah, sorry. I know I haven’t called, but we’ve been having a fantastic time…. Nothing much. What’s that?…Is he okay?”
Turning to me, she mouthed something like Our dog got sick.
“What did the vet say?…Okay…Yeah…That’s good to know. How’s Heidi doing with it?…Uh-huh…Uh-huh…”
She said nothing for a while, then: “Well, let’s see. We rehearse in the mornings, then usually hang out at the beach or the pool. We’ve been going to hear some live music and checking out downtown St. Pete…. Yeah, they’re having a great time. It’s Holly and Stacy’s first trip to Florida, so it’s been fun showing them around….”
