Dalton whistled and shook his head. “That’s some bad shit.” They considered his words in silence. “She must’ve been through hell and back.”
“Yeah,” Cal muttered.
“She’s special,” Tristan said. “What was the fight about, then?”
“That was it. She told me the truth and asked me to make a choice. Told me she wouldn’t live with my having regrets.”
Tristan looked confused. “So? She can’t have kids. That sucks, but there’s always adoption. Or not.”
Cal shifted in his chair and drank more bourbon. “She asked me straight out if I’d ever have regrets. I told her I don’t know.”
Dalton gave a long sigh. “And there was the fight.”
“You love her, right?” Tristan asked. “Is it the long-term-I-want-to-marry-her type love? Or more like this-feels-really-good-and-I-don’t-want-it-to-end-but-I-can’t-commit love?”
“The forever kind,” Cal admitted. “The get-down-on-bended-knee kind. I know it’s fast, and you probably think I’m crazy, but that’s how I feel about her. But I owe it to both of us to make sure I’m honest. I always wanted a big family.”
“You already have a big family, Cal,” Dalton pointed out. “You have us. And Brady and Sydney and Becca. You have Balin and Gandalf. And you may have kids down the line. But most of all, you get Morgan. Morgan becomes your family. I guess to me, there’s only one choice. Her.”
The words startled him. Reached deep into his gut and spread through his body like fire, warming him from the inside out. Nothing really mattered without Morgan. The idea of being with another woman was impossible. She was his soul mate, his other half. They completed each other, dammit, and he’d been stupid enough to walk away when she was most vulnerable and hurting.
“You’re right,” Cal said. The words tore out of his mouth. “My God, I got so freaked out, I couldn’t see clearly. I choose her. I’d choose her every time, because nothing else matters.”
“See,” Tristan said. “We told you.”
“Heart-to-hearts are good once in a while,” Dalton said. “Can we go inside and watch the play-offs now? And order chicken wings so no one has to cook?”
“Sounds good to me. Let’s go,” Tristan said.
They got up and walked back inside the house, leaving Cal alone with his lightbulb moment and his heart pounding and the need to tell Morgan he’d never let her go.
It was late. She was probably sleeping and didn’t need any revelations from him right now. He’d let her get some rest and tell her everything tomorrow.
Tomorrow, he’d set everything right.
chapter twenty-two
Morgan escorted her clients out of the limousine and stood on the pathway. Petra and Slate looked tanned and relaxed from their cruise, and both seemed excited about seeing their new home. They’d been able to take an earlier flight in, but Morgan hadn’t called Cal to let him know. He thought they were meeting at the property at two p.m., but Morgan didn’t want to see him yet. She could handle the reveal by herself, and then if there were any issues, they’d be able to meet with Cal later.
Morgan barely slept, her mind sifting through every word they’d exchanged. Her heart ached and she’d cried for too many hours, but she made sure that her Vera Wang tailored cream suit was flawless and that her makeup hid the dark lines under her eyes. She dressed for battle and presented a confident, experienced, professional designer who was about to rock their world.
Inside, she felt like throwing up.
Petra gasped as her gaze ran over the elegant lines of the house. “Morgan, it’s stunning,” she said. Genuine pleasure shone in her violet eyes, and her white teeth flashed in a smile. “Darling, I adore the columns. Take us around the property.”
Slate nodded as she gave the full tour. Miles of acres spilled out on a perfectly manicured lawn, and the gorgeous reds and golds of fall were in full bloom, mixing with an aqua-blue sky shimmering over the marina. Morgan guided them through the gardens, over to the hot tub and sauna and past the covered deck.
Petra ran a finger over the thick carved beams. “What type of wood is this, darling?”
“Teak.”
“Stunning. The outside is exactly what I wanted. I can’t wait to go in.”
Relief and satisfaction flooded her body, but she kept her face polite and impassive as she showed them the extent of using the remotes to open the doors and uncover the hot tub. Petra chattered excitedly to her husband as Morgan circled them back around to lead them through the mahogany door. She took a deep breath and stepped inside.
Peace settled over her as she gazed at the house so lovingly created. The unease in her gut settled. This was a home worthy of greatness and full of heart. There was no way the Rosenthals wouldn’t love it.
Morgan launched into her speech. “You’ll see the central staircase and floating balcony, so you have an open concept space for entertaining. I’ve worked with a green palette as a base and mixed in Tuscan neutrals to give the kitchen a cozy Italian feel, yet glamorous enough to host a huge dinner party in.” Her heels clicked over the Italian tile floors as she listed the various furnishings, appliances, and decor. Morgan led them from room to room, enthusiastically embracing the theme of each. The grandfather clock; the brass bed in the master bedroom; the gorgeous marble structure of an ancient goddess on her knees begging Zeus; the fabric chandelier in the bath; the restored pool table in the billiard room; the gold-tassled curtain in the film room. Each room had a story, and Morgan told each one, her voice filled with joy and pride as each floor was uncovered like a massive present.