Pain lances through my chest. I take a step towards him and then falter to a stop. It is very clear that he doesn’t want me close to him.
“Being their nanny is more than enough, I swear. I tried so hard not to fall for you.”
Not hard enough, clearly. But regardless of that, I cannot bear the thought of Morgan believing for even one second that my feelings for him are false. That I manipulated him and used him. I’m a liar, yes. A concealer of the truth, absolutely. But everything else is real. He has to believe that, if he believes nothing else.
Morgan looks away from me, as if holding my gaze is causing him pain. He stares out of the window and I stand here awkwardly while a deep silence shrouds us. Long minutes pass.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” he whispers finally.
And lord am I happy the awful silence is broken. But this is a question I don’t have an answer for.
“Because I’m an asshole,” I confess.
More silence.
Then, “You look like her.” He stops suddenly and shakes his head. “I guess she looked like you.” He buries his head in his hands. “This is so confusing.”
My tongue is sticking to the roof of my mouth. I cannot think of a single word to say. I feel like I’m dying. My soul is withering, its flame extinguishing. Any moment now and I’m going to cease to exist.
“Maybe I’m an asshole too,” Morgan says suddenly. “I think it was the resemblance that first attracted me to you.”
My heart thuds. It twists. No, no, no. Morgan cannot blame himself for any of this. He has done nothing wrong. All the blame is mine, and mine alone.
“I’m so sorry,” I croak out uselessly.
There are so many things I need to say to him. So much I have to explain. But I have never been more lost for words. It is so unfair. Why does the power of speech have to desert me now, of all times?
“I knew you were older than you looked. But this? Jennifer. The kids. How…how… you can’t be their grandfather and their stepdad.”
Once again, the word ‘great’ is on the tip of my tongue. But it is pointless. I don’t think an extra generation or two is going to change how Morgan feels about this.
“I fucked my dead wife’s grandfather.”
Morgan looks up at me. His eyes are full of horror. His expression is stricken. He is thoroughly aghast. He hates what we did. He regrets making love to me.
I never thought he’d see it like this. To me, it’s awkward. Inconvenient. A whole lot of unconventional. But it doesn’t feel like a sin. It doesn’t feel like incest. Or betrayal of Jennifer’s memory.
I want Morgan so much that this whole being related thing, is something I overcame. I can overlook it now. It is far from ideal, but it is not a deal breaker.
But I never gave Morgan a choice. I didn’t give him the truth so he could make up his own mind. I simply took what I wanted because I wanted it. I’m every bit as evil and twisted as Ritchie.
I suck in a breath that sounds like a sob. My heart is beating, and it is breaking. I never wanted to hurt Morgan. Ever. And it is the only thing I’ve ever done to him.
“I’m so sorry,” I repeat uselessly.
There is hot wetness on my cheeks. I think I’m crying. Woodenly I turn. Stiffly, I walk away. For the first time ever, I feel like the animated corpse that I am.
I walk out of Morgan’s home.
And he doesn’t call me back.
Chapter twenty-two
Morgan
“Ican do it!” shouts Lottie forcefully.
I sigh wearily and hand the socks over to her in defeat. I feel like I’ve been trying to get her dressed for all of eternity.
