Page 104 of Chasing the Dream

“That’s because you’re not the one going around with a huge red welt on your neck!”

Then came a knock on her bedroom door. “Morgan, everything okay in there?”

“Shit! I gotta go,” she whispered and quickly disconnected.

“I’m fine. Just talking to myself.”

“Oh. Well, goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

She listened until she heard Maria’s door close, and then she let out a big sigh. Maybe Gabe was right. Maybe it was time to tell Maria the truth. She was ruminating over that when she remembered the card he’d given her with the candy bouquet. She got out of bed, padded over to the dresser, and fished it out of her lingerie drawer. Then she climbed back into bed and opened it.

It was one of those tiny cards that usually came with flowers, and when she slipped it out of the envelope, she realized her hands were shaking.

Holding the card under the small lamp on the nightstand, she read what he’d written.

Sorry for my bad behavior. Please forgive me. Love, Gabe xoxoxo

It was a simple apology, but the way he’d signed the card gave her pause. He could have just signed his name, but instead, he’d included the word love.

Was he trying to tell her that he loved her? Then again, it was commonplace to sign cards and letters that way, right? The term “love” was used so often that it was impossible to discern. Besides loving a person, people loved their pets, their cars, and their morning coffee. The list could go on and on.

She’d fantasized about him for so long that she wanted it to be true, but was it? She slipped the card back into the envelope and laid it on the nightstand, thinking she’d put it back in the drawer in the morning.

Then she shut off the lamp and wriggled further under the covers. Once she was settled, she pulled his sweatshirt out from under the other pillow and hugged it to her chest.

She might not know what was in his heart, but she knew what was in hers. She drifted off to sleep with a smile on her lips and love in her heart.

Chapter 28

Gabe anxiously peered out the window while he ate his corned beef on rye. He was seated at the diner directly across the street from Bryan’s tavern, where Bryan and Morgan were meeting.

She’d told him not to interfere, but after pacing around his house all morning, he’d decided to ignore her plea. He couldn’t sit at home knowing that she was with that jerk. At least, being across the street, he’d be able to respond immediately if she needed him.

She’d been inside the tavern for all of twenty minutes, and he wondered how long he’d have to wait. In the meantime, his waitress kept refilling his soft drink and asking if he wanted anything else. Based on her expression when she’d asked, he got the impression she might be offering more than food. There once was a time, not long ago, when he’d have been flattered. He would have flirted back and maybe even asked for her number. But that was then. Now he could hardly tear his eyes away from the window, and he couldn’t stop worrying about what was going on across the street.

He’d thought about pretending he was “in the neighborhood” and popping in on them, but he knew Morgan would hate him for it, so he’d resigned himself to hiding out here until she emerged. Once he knew she was safe, he’d go back home, and she’d be none the wiser.

“Are you sure I can’t get you anything else? We have really good desserts,” the waitress said in her singsong voice.

He’d finished his sandwich and drunk enough Coke to float home, but he decided to order dessert just so he could keep sitting there. “Sure. What do you recommend?”

She slipped into the empty seat across from him and proceeded to rattle off the dessert menu. He was usually impressed when the waitstaff could do that, but right now, she was distracting him from his mission.

“I’ll have the hot fudge sundae,” he said, interrupting her mid-list.

“Cherry on top?” She gave him what he guessed was supposed to be a seductive smile, but it was lost on him.

“That’ll be fine.”

“Okay. Be right back.”

After she’d left, it struck him that he didn’t even like hot fudge sundaes. He was more of a caramel man. Morgan was the chocolate lover, not him. He shook his head in wonder. It seemed like everything about her was seeping into his subconscious. He couldn’t even order dessert without thinking of her.

A few minutes later, the waitress returned with his sundae, and when she set it down, she leaned over far enough that he could see down her shirt if he’d been so inclined. He quickly averted his eyes to the tower of ice cream.

“I made it extra big just for you,” she said conspiratorially.