Chapter 33
Lydia
“You have reached the destination,” the robotic female voice on my phone tells me.
I put my car in park and take in the façade of the Morgans’ home. It’s precisely what I imagined it’d be—a two-story, Cape Cod-style home on a quiet, suburban street. The exact house I’d scout as a filming location if I were making a movie entitled, “The Morgans.”
I slam my driver’s door shut and walk toward the house, clutching my purse in one hand and my damp bathing suit in the other. Oh, man, I’m nervous Colby’s going to freak out when I tell him everything. And nervous Colby won’t freak out when I tell him everything. And, oh, God, I’m horny. And relieved to finally get Ramona off my back! Oh, and did I mention I’m horny?
These past two months, I knew Colby had to be rocking a breathtakingly beautiful body underneath his hospital gowns and tight T-shirts. But nothing—and I mean nothing—could have prepared me for the beautifully scarred golden god in swim trunks I spied today in the therapy pool. Not to mention the hard-on jutting from behind his bathing suit. Even after everything he’s been through—and everything he’s still going through—Colby Morgan is smoking hot.
Oh, God, the way he tore into Ramona. I’ve never been so turned on in my life. In that moment, I probably would have dunked underwater to give him a blowjob if we’d been anywhere else.
And that kiss! Whatever self-restraint I’ve managed to tap into these past two months with Colby flew straight out the window the minute Colby pressed his lips against mine. Kissing Colby, feeling him wrap his arms around me and press his steely hard-on against me, was absolutely electrifying. But if I’m being perfectly honest, it was also confusing and mind-fucking, too. My kiss with Colby today was my first kiss with anyone other than Darren. And it was every bit as enthralling and amazing and sexy and earth-quaking as my first kiss with Darren, if not more so. If not more so. And, frankly, that realization is royally screwing with my head right now.
I reach the front door of the Morgan residence. There’s a yellow sticky note attached to it.
Lydia. Come in. I’m in the backyard.
When I enter the house, I find myself standing in a living room that’s elegant yet warm. Neat and tidy yet lived-in. In other words, the room is the physical manifestation of Mrs. Morgan to a tee.
A bunch of framed photos sitting atop a black piano call to me from across the room so I stride over to them. Not surprisingly, every one of the pictures looks like the kind of stock photography that comes inside frames at purchase. My eyes graze over Morgans blowing out birthday candles. Caps and gowns. The whole clan standing at the railing of what looks like a cruise ship. Keane in a baseball uniform. Dax with a guitar. Ryan in leather pants, smoldering at the camera. Colby in a group photo at what must be the fire academy.
My eyes drift to what looks like a recent photo of Colby and Ryan. They’re running shirtless in a pack of other runners in some kind of organized race. Holy hot damn. Both men are ripped as hell, glistening with sweat, and inked with tattoos—though Ryan has three times as many tattoos as his older brother. Oh, man, Colby is sexy as hell in this shot. Absolutely mesmerizing.
I take out my phone and capture a snapshot of the sexy photo—and then immediately crop Ryan out. No offense to Captain Morgan, of course. He’s obscenely hot, too. But there’s only one man I want to gaze at when I’m alone with my vibrator on a lonely night.
After editing my photo of Colby, I take in the rest of the photos on the piano and lock in on a photo of the five Morgan siblings as kids. Colby looks to be about Theo’s age. He’s standing before the camera, smiling and cradling the youngest Morgan in his arms who’s clad in a diaper and sucking on a blue pacifier. Ryan is standing next to Colby’s right shoulder and he’s holding Kat—who seems to be about five. He’s cradling her in his arms like she’s a little baby, the same way Colby is cradling Dax. Indeed, now I get it. Ryan is using Kat as a prop to mimic Colby’s exact pose with Dax. And Kat is clearly in on the gag. For her part, she’s wearing a white towel between her legs and sucking on a pacifier, the same way Baby Dax is doing. Ah, I see. The towel is meant to be Kat’s diaper. Oh, man, Ryan and Kat think they’re so clever in this photo. They’re laughing their heads off about the way they’re copying Colby with Dax. I can practically hear their squealing laughter wafting off the photo. And what is the neon sheep doing in this photo? Well, a handstand, of course, as one does—especially when one is an epic goofball. And, of course, Keane is flashing his show-stopping smile and dimples, albeit upside down and with blood rushing into his adorable head.
Again, I pick up my phone and take a snapshot, simply because I know I’ll want to look at this goofy picture of the Morgan Five at some point again, if only to lift my spirits whenever I’m feeling blue. The photo is pure joy incarnate. Silliness. Family. Love. Not to mention sweet Colby is the star of the photo in every way. The centerpiece. While everyone else is goofing off around him, he’s the quiet port in the storm. The fierce protector. The lighthouse. Just looking at the photo makes my heart squeeze for the grown man the boy in the photo has become.
I stuff my phone back into my purse. What the heck am I still doing in here? Colby is out there in the backyard waiting for me. It’s time for me to get out there and tell him the truth. That I’m a widow and mother of three. That I’m damaged—emotionally screwed up, far more than I ever let on. And that, most of all, I’m totally unsure how to do this thing with him, whether there’s an employment policy or not.
I take a deep breath, gather my bag and bathing suit, and head toward the backyard. I don’t know how Colby’s going to react when I tell him I’ve been keeping the biggest part of my life hidden from him all this time. But there’s no turning back now. However he’s going to react, I’m about to find out.