Morning Glory - A Novelette

Mountains of Chocolate are owed to the wonderful people who helped me on the Morning Glory journey to publication. Thank you to Anne, Caryn, Flavia, Irene, Jada D’Lee, LemmieJen, Mary, Susi, Suzanne,
Sydney,
and Wyndy. Without your wisdom, this wouldn’t be the story I’m proud to share. To my husband, kids, family, and friends
—
without your encouragement, there wouldn’t be a story at all. Thank you.

Much love,

S.

I always thought I’d be married by twenty-
five
—so much for the fairy tale ending. As I take a sip of wine, I glance at my watch for the fifth time this hour. “It’s been two days, nineteen hours, and forty-seven minutes since I last heard from Alejandro.”

“Let him go, Hayley. And it’s official. You’ve crossed the line from sad to pathetic,” Nick says, smirking.

I
twist my long blonde hair up into a hair band on top of my head before
stretch
ing
my legs across the couch
and
hogging all the space. Then I hold my glass in the air and say, “Wine me.” He does, topping my glass off with the last of the Pinot Grigio. We usually have beer while watching the college bowl games, but this year is different because of my recent breakup
.
I thought wine would complement my whine better. “So, I’m pathetic now?”

He smiles because he knows I like those better than his smirks. They’re softer, more personal. Holding my feet up off of the couch, he sits down then places them on his lap. “Knowing the days and hours is bad enough, but when you start tracking minutes, you’ve crossed into obsessive… or maybe
de
pressive. I’m still undecided.”

I notice how his hair falls over his forehead when he laughs. His brown hair has grown out a little, and it reminds me of how he wore in college. But tonight is not about how good he’s looking as he lives the high life as a single man these days. Tonight is apparently about me being pathetic post break-up, so I delve into that subject again because I like to torture my self-esteem that way. “Y
ou’re undecided if I’m obsessed or depressed?” I close my eyes while I balance my glass on my stomach. It almost tips, so I hold it in place.

He rubs his hand up my leg and slides it over my hip. Then he takes my glass and his and sets them on the coffee table
.
“Scoot.”

I do, and he lies down next to me. Once he settles, I rearrange my body against his
and
rest my head in the crook of his arm.

“He’s your ex now, Hay. When will you at least admit it to yourself?”

I don’t like
it
when he forces an issue. “I’m not ready to admit it. He’s just…” I stop to think of what I’m trying to say. “He’s making a mistake.”

“I think you are. He wasn’t worth the six months you gave him and his cheating on you proves that point. Why would you want to waste any more time on him?”

“Nick,” I say, my tone firm. “I don’t want to talk about this with you.”

“Why not?”

When I sit up, I keep my back to him and say, “Because I know how you feel about him and where you stand on the matter. We’ll end up arguing, going round in the same circles we always do, and I don’t want to do that. I’m tired.”

There’s a long silence that separates our thoughts and our bodies. He whispers, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.” I feel his hand on the back of my neck
,
and he gently
caresses. He’s comforting me, and it works. It always does. I can’t stay mad at him. “Half-time’s over. Lie back down with me?”

I maneuver silently back into my spot, and he drapes his arm over my waist again. We clasp hands and go back to watching two college teams that neither of us usually cheer for,
but watch because it’s our tradition.

*
*
*

All weekend I’d dreaded Monday
. N
ow here it
i
s all sunshiny with birds singing outside my window
,
as if I
had
n’t
been
devastated just a few nights ago. New Year’s Eve was three nights ago to be exact, when I was still one half of a couple. But I’m not one half of anything anymore. With reality sinking in, I roll out of bed, open the curtains, and start my day.

Walking into the newsroom two hours later, I greet the guard and receptionist like I do every morning and hope that neither can see behind the mask of false happiness I’m wearing. If they do, I appreciate that they don’t say anything.

I scan the board for breaking news and headlines then walk into my office and shut the door. The door is a barrier that gives me a sense of peace—usually from the real
ities of working at a chaotic television news
station. But today, it’s protecting me. I hope my humiliation is hidden from the keen eyes of the reporters who reside on the other side.

The hours slip by as I bury myself in my duties until there’s a soft knock at my door. Nick peeks his head in before I have time to answer. He smiles, and it’s sympathetic. I’m conflicted by how I feel seeing that emotion on him.

“Hey there. How are you doing today?”

“Good.” My automatic answer. “Were you in the field this morning?”

He walks in and shuts the door behind him then takes a seat on the other side of my desk. “Yeah. Filmed two stories. You want to grab lunch?”

I glance at my monitor and the two-hundred emails I have left to handle
. Marketing for the top-rated
station in the city keeps me busy. “Um, I should work.”

“Are you mad?”

“Why would I be mad?”

“I don’t know.” He shrugs, obviously uncomfortable.

We don’t normally dance around our feelings. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing.”

He evades, so I insist. “Tell me.”

He stands and walks to the door. “I’m sure you’re busy. I’ll let you get back to wo—”

“You open that door, and I’ll ban you from Wednesday night bar-hopping.”

“You wouldn’t.” He narrows his eyes to test me.

I lean back in my chair and cross my arms over my chest. I can play hardball, too. “I so would.”

“You don’t play fair, Hayley Girl.”

“And you’re keeping secrets.”

“Fine.” He holds the doorknob, ready for a quick getaway. I might need to prepare myself for what he’s about to say. “I’m thinking about asking someone out on a date.”

I’m not prepared for that. “What? When did you have time to meet someone?”

“New Year’s.”

“You met someone from the party? Before you took me home?”

“You make it sound so sordid.” He releases the knob and leans back against the door.

I sit forward, surprised by his little bombshell. “I don’t mean to. I’m just shocked, I guess. I don’t remember you even talking to anyone else at the party. You know, before we left.”

Suddenly, he’s defensive, and I’m not sure why.
He crosses his arms and says,
“That’s because the night was about you, Hay.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means that as soon as Alejandro left, it was all about you. I’m not complain—”

“It sure sounds like you are.”

“Don’t be this way. I’m just saying I
was talking to
someone before I
had to leave
.”

“Le
ave
to babysit me, you mean?”

He opens the door. “I’m gonna go. This isn’t why I came in here.”

“Why did you then, Nick?”

“I need to go.” He walks out the door, but before he shuts it, he says, “I didn’t come here to fight with you. I just wanted to check on how you were doing.”

My stubborn side makes an appearance
,
and I sit upright. I grab the papers in front of me and straighten them by tapping them on my desk. “Well, you don’t have to worry about me. I’ll be fine.”

“Okay, fine,” he replies. He closes the door behind him.

I close my eyes and spin around in my chair, my back toward the door just in case he decides to come back. “Damn it!” I drop my head into my hands. The tears come easily these days, and roll down my cheeks. I think of my boyfri… my
ex
,
and I think about Nick. He’s always here for me. Always, and yet I
just
treat
ed
him so poorly.

I jump from my chair and run out the door to search the newsroom for him. When I
run to the back lot, I
spot him. He’s packing his camera into the back of the news van.

“Nick!”

Looking over his shoulder, he sees me then turns back to the reporter, Greg Grayson, who’s standing next to him. I overhear
Nick
say, “I’ll be right back.”

He walks over to me. When he gets there, he doesn’t say anything, though I know he’s struggling not to.

I apologize because I can’t stay mad at him, but more importantly, I don’t want to. “I’m sorry about that. You’re right. I’ve been selfish the last few days.” I nudge him and smile. “Give me a second chance? Let me buy you lunch.”

He looks into my eyes before he responds. “I was just called out on assignment, so I can’t do lunch, but Hayley, you haven’t been selfish. You have every right to be upset over the breakup. I just wanted you to know that I’m thinking about asking someone out.” He looks down and pauses
before looking
up again. “I’m struggling with what to do here. You know I support you, but you also know how I feel about Alejandro.”

I sigh. “He treated me all right, better than you were privy to most of the time.”

“Hey, Nick. We’ve got to go,” Greg shouts.

Nick waves to him then turns back to me. “I care about you. You know that, right?”

“Yes. I care about you too.” I hug him, and it’s like being home
, full of warmth and security
. As soon as he lets go, I feel the cold winter air. “Be safe, all right?”

He nods
and
smiles all cute and mischievous as he walks away. After a quick wave, he hops in the van and it takes off.

I return to my office and attempt to work, but something inside me stirs—an unease in the pit of my stomach. My mind is restless with thoughts of Nick. He’s worked dangerous assignments before, but because of our argument this morning, I’m worried about him and what might go wrong. I walk back into the newsroom and approach the producer on-call. “Where are Nick and Greg going?”