“I’m sorry,” Morgan repeated, stepping closer to me.
Was I making a scene? I was probably making a scene.
I wanted to tell anyone watching that I wasn’t crying because Morgan had upset me, I wasn’t even reallycrying, I just couldn’t stop my eyes from watering or my nose from running.
I didn’t want anyone to think he was anything other than the sweetest man I’d ever met.
“Don’t be,” I said. “It’s not your fault.”
“It’s my van.” He waved vaguely at it, then shoved his hands in his pockets. “They’re my flowers.”
“I wish I could appreciate them without looking like I’ve just finished watchingSteel Magnoliasafter.”
Morgan raised an eyebrow. “You cry overSteel Magnolias?”
“You don’t?” I asked, the tips of my ears already hot.
“No, I totally do,” Morgan responded, wonder in his voice. “I’ve just… never heard anyone else admit that.”
“I cry a lot,” I said. “I’m okay with it.”
Morgan chuckled. “Me too, but no one would ever believe me.”
“I believe you.” I took a deep breath, the worst of my reaction starting to settle down. “I’msorry. I should’ve thought to take an antihistaminebeforeI got in a florist’s van. I just… didn’t think.”
“I didn’t realize you were allergic. I’ll stop bringing your mom flowers.”
“You don’t have to do that. She loves them. I can cope with a couple, it’s just…”
“Yeah, the van’s another issue.” Morgan said, reaching out to me.
I stared at him, wide eyed as his fingers slid into my hair, stroking it back like my mom would’ve when I was little.
Morgan paused, hand still on my head, and stared equally wide-eyed at me.
“Umm,” he said, taking his hand away and looking at it like he’d never seen it before. “… boyfriend practice?”
I laughed, warmth welling up under my ribcage at the thought that Morgan had all but agreed to be my boyfriend.
Well, topretendto be my boyfriend. That was only one step removed from what I really wanted, and I figured I’d get all the important things out of it. Cuddles, physical closeness, more time together, maybe even a kiss or two.
It was the best I was ever going to get, and now that I was over the mortification of Marta throwing me in the deep end with this, I was starting to get a little excited.
“You can touch me all you want,” I said, and boy did I mean that. “I’m just all gross right now, I figured you wouldn’t want to.”
“You’re not gross.” Morgan smiled at me. “A little puffy, maybe, but not gross. And you’ll be okay in a few minutes, right?”
“Right,” I said, and my stomach growled as if to remind me why we were here. “Food? Food will help.”
“Not sure that’s how allergies work,” Morgan said, stepping ahead of me to lead the way. “But Ididpromise you food, and a promise is a promise.”
We walked side-by-side to the burger place Morgan had clearly known was here, and in this strange town where neither of us were locals, we could have been together. All anyone saw was two people who obviously liked each other heading into a restaurant together.
I really,reallyliked that idea. I liked the speculative look the server gave us when we sat down and they brought over water and glasses, I liked Morgan pouring for me without a moment’s hesitation like the gentleman I’d always suspected he was, I liked the way our fingers brushed together when he passed me a menu.
If this was just atasteof what pretending to be boyfriends would be like, I couldn’t wait to do it for nearly a whole week. I already felt like I was swimming in happiness after a few minutes, hay fever forgotten.
… shit.
