Page 35 of The Man with the Knot
“Morgan,” I repeat her name, running the word over in my mouth. She’s so close that I can almost taste her. “Right, I remember her.”
“Great! Go ahead and pop over to her desk—she’s toward the back, far right side in the cube maze. She’s a good first step for figuring out who to talk to about hiring. She can set up some interviews with attractive candidates, although again, I’m not sure we have exactly the skill set you need. Still, it never hurts to look.”
I nod and walk to the door. “Got it. Appreciate everything you’ve done, Mike. See you tomorrow.”
I do my best to keep a slow, even pace as I make my way toward Morgan. As I get closer, I can’t imagine that she’s left for the day, knowing that I’m still here and that I practically begged her to wait for me.
But it’s so quiet in this part of the building, that I wonder if I’m wrong. I wonder if I’ve blown it with her.
Serves you right, I mutter in my head.
Fortunately, as I approach a set of gray cubicles, I hear the sound of a keyboard clacking. I peek over the edge of one of the walls, hoping that I don’t accidentally find a stranger sitting there.
My heart pounds with relief.
Morgan is plopped in front of her computer, her fingers flying with lightning strikes. She’s concentrating hard, wearing headphones and swishing her head here and there to the music. Occasionally, her face curls into a small smile.
I reach over and tap her shoulder gently.
“Oh!” she blurts out, jumping slightly.
“Hi Morg,” I say softly. “I was hoping I’d find you here.”
She scrambles to her feet and brushes at her clothes. “Yeah, well, it seemed like you really wanted to talk earlier.”
We stare at one another, each of us debating the next move.
“I didn’t have any good reason to come and try to find you,” she offers. “Or I would have.”
I nod. “I understand. Are you heading out soon or…?”
“Yes, yes I am,” she says breathily. “Um, let me just... just give me a minute.”
I eat the curvy girl up with my eyes. I’ve seen Morgan at ease on the beach, felt her body underneath mine, and shared intimate, personal moments. But something about watching her in her own world—the real world for her—is even more profound.
She shuts down her computer, grabs her bag, and tilts her head as she looks at me.
“Do you want to come back to my place?” she asks, her eyes searching mine. Her words make hope leap in my chest even as I try not to show it.
“Yeah,” I agree easily. “Sounds like a plan.”
I resist the urge to grab her hand and instead manage to keep several inches between us as I follow her light steps to the elevator. Soon we’re downstairs and step together out of the building. A biting wind hits our cheeks as Morgan pulls her coat closer around her body.
“This is chillier than Mirago,” I say off-hand. “But I kind of like it.”
Morgan smiles tentatively. “We can take the train, but a cab would be faster. More expensive, but faster.”
“Let’s take a cab.” I’m eager to find some privacy, and to finally get away from the watchful eyes of a nonstop stream of people too.
We climb into one of the yellow cars and are soon fighting our way through traffic toward Morgan’s apartment. While we ride, neither of us says anything, saving our words for when we can be completely alone.
Twenty minutes later, we climb the stairs up to her third story apartment.
“Um,” Morgan says suddenly, her key in the lock. “It might be a bit messy because I wasn’t expecting anyone.”
I raise a black eyebrow. “I’m hardly just anyone,” I point out.
“Yeah, I guess that’s true.” She opens the door and I follow her inside, eager to have another piece of her life revealed to me.