Chapter 22

Chapter

Twenty-Two

Despite Gigi'ssuggestion to sit by the fire, I'm still thinking about just escaping back to my room, but then the wind shifts. Literally. It calms down a bit, and I stop and stand there with my toes in the sand and my eyes on the never-ending horizon. There's something magical about the ocean at night. I close my eyes and, for a second, allow myself to just be. My senses hear everything. The gentle hiss of the waves mingling with distant laughter from somewhere down the beach wraps around me, a soothing blanket that momentarily eases the weight on my shoulders. I let the symphony of the night seep into my bones, the rhythmic cadence of the ocean reminds me that some things are constant, unchanging.

I"m so lost in the moment that I don"t hear Morgan approach until he"s almost beside me. I flinch slightly.

"Didn"t mean to startle you," he says, his voice soft, a smile touching the corners of his lips as he gestures towards the fire pit. "Just thought the fire could use a bit of a boost."

I return his smile, feeling a ripple of comfort at his thoughtful actions. "I was just... taking everything in. The night, the sea. It"s peaceful," I admit, my gaze drifting back to the fire, watching the flames dance and crackle.

Morgan nods, his eyes reflecting the firelight, revealing a depth that always seems just beyond my grasp. "It has a way of doing that," he agrees. "Want to keep enjoying the peace by the fire?"

His invitation hangs in the air, simple yet charged with an undercurrent of something more, something that I"ve felt building between us. I glance in the direction of my room, then back to the fire. I"m torn. There"s a part of me that knows I should keep things professional, maintain the boundaries that should exist between us. Yet, the pull towards him is undeniable, magnetic even.

Finally, I cave into the desire to spend more time with him. "I'd like that, but I only have one glass," I say, trying to inject some lightness into the moment as I hold up my wine bottle and glass.

Morgan"s chuckle is a low, soothing sound that somehow makes the night feel warmer. "That's okay, I don't drink."

His admission catches me off guard. "Oh, sorry, I didn't realize," I say quickly, feeling a twinge of embarrassment. How had I not known this about him? I try to recall the beach bonfire two nights ago, where I thought I"d seen him drinking, but as I replay those moments, I realize I never actually saw him drink anything alcoholic. He was always the one making the drinks, his hands skilled and sure as he mixed, but everything he drank was out of a Coke bottle.

"Nothing to apologize for," Morgan assures me with a gentle wave of his hand, dispelling the awkwardness I feel.

It's a small detail, yet it feels significant, a reminder of how much I still have to learn about him. Despite the time we"ve spent together, there are layers to Morgan that remain unexplored, parts of his life and his past that he keeps shielded. It makes me wonder what else I might discover.

Settled by the fire, the warmth against the cool night air, I find the courage to thank him. "For being there today, at the competition. It meant a lot."

He shrugs modestly, but his smile tells me he"s pleased. "Wouldn"t have missed it. You and Eliza did great. I know she's happy."

I can"t help but feel a flush of pride at his words, tempered by the uncertainty that"s been my constant companion these past days. "Thanks. I guess I did okay."

"What was going on with that guy there today?" Morgan's question cuts through the night, his tone casual but eyes sharp, missing nothing.

I sigh, knowing there"s no dodging the question. "Tomas is my ex," I say, the familiar sting accompanying his name. "Things ended because he wasn"t the man I believed him to be."

Morgan"s eyebrows lift, an unspoken prompt for me to continue.

Taking a deep breath, I let it all out. "I found him with another woman in our apartment. It was a wake-up call, really. There were so many red flags, like the way he questioned my confidence and made me feel like I needed him to make my dreams come true. I wasn't good enough on my own to open a patisserie. He would be the key to our success. I simply got to ride on his coattails."

I watch as a shadow of anger passes over Morgan"s face, his usual calm demeanor momentarily disrupted.

"It"s strange, looking back," I continue, trying to make sense of it all. "It"s like I was under some kind of spell, blind to who he really was."

"Were you?" Morgan asks, suddenly serious.

"What?" His question catches me off guard, a possibility I hadn"t dared to entertain.

"Could he have had you under a spell?"

"He... he wouldn"t do that," I stammer, but the conviction in my voice is lacking, the seed of doubt planted.

Wanting to steer away from the discomforting thought, I switch gears. "What about you? Ever left a trail of broken hearts in your wake?" I ask, injecting a teasing note into my voice, hoping to lighten the mood.

Morgan chuckles softly, the sound almost lost to the crackling of the fire. "There's not much in my past worth discussing," he says, his voice light but with an undercurrent of something more. But whatever that something more is, he's not willing to tell me. Morgan's gaze drifts back to the flames, a small smile playing at the corner of his lips, effectively dodging the heart of my question.

I give him the same raised eyebrow expression he used on me a moment ago, but to no avail.

"That's all I get? I'm over here telling you about my ex and broken dreams, and you come back with nothing?"

"I don't have anything to say," he replies, not meeting my eyes.

Given my chat with Iris. I know that's not true.

"That"s not fair," I protest, a hint of frustration creeping in. "You ask me to trust you with so much, but you"re so guarded about your own past."

He turns his gaze to the fire, a muscle working in his jaw as he considers my words. After a moment, his shoulders relax, and he looks back at me. "The past is the past, Claire. What matters is right now, this moment. That"s all we really have."

His words hang in the air between us, a mix of wisdom and evasion. I"m left wanting more, yet understanding the boundaries he"s drawn around himself, and I know I'm not going to break them down tonight, if ever.

I let out a sigh, the weight of the conversation settling heavily in my chest. The flickering flames of the fire cast shadows across Morgan"s face, highlighting the deep-set lines of thought and, perhaps, past burdens. Despite the warmth of the fire, a chill of realization sweeps over me, highlighting the distance between us—a gap bridged by fleeting moments of connection but widened by unspoken truths and hidden scars.

I stand abruptly. "I should go," I announce, more to myself than to Morgan. "It"s been a long day, and I could use some sleep."

Morgan"s reaction is swift, his hand reaching out as if to stop me, his voice carrying a note of concern, "Wait, Claire?—"

But I don"t. The need for space, for a moment to gather my thoughts, propels me forward. The excitement of the competition, the stress of Tomas"s unwelcome presence, and the rollercoaster of getting to know Morgan—all converge into a tidal wave that threatens to sweep me away. The day has left me emotionally spent, and for now, I just want solitude.