For the last two hours, I’ve fought everything about Morgan’s life. But what I failed to remember is that Noah is her life.
And if Noah is hers, he is technically mine now.
This could be dangerous for me, playing the Devil’s hand in this sick and twisted game.
But I don’t care about what may happen in the future.
I care only about now, and so I quickly type back a text which cements my thoughts finally—
a piece of me so desperate to tell him everything.
Me: I feel like I’ve been waiting a lifetime to hear that. I love you too. Ride or die. Forever, baby.
The day drags on forever.
This much I know.
I’m trapped in Morgan’s body.
The Halloween party hasn’t occurred yet.
And several times throughout the day, the panic consumes me, so I press dial to Valentino only to hang up. I can’t reasonably explain my wanting to speak to Mama Valentino. Nothing makes sense except for one thing—I’m married to Noah.
Each time that thought lingers, I hang up the call so fast and wonder what tomorrow might bring.
Perhaps, this is simply just a dream.
One I will wake up from the next morning.
Only time will tell.
By five o’clock, I’m utterly exhausted having run around LA doing all of Morgan’s errands. Plus, I have a ton of emails that need responding to. My feet ache in these pumps, and not once during the day did I even stop to eat.
I often forget who I am—people calling me Morgan, only to correct them then realize by their confused expressions.
I want to do nothing more than climb into my giant tub with a bottle of wine.
Then I realize I have children to attend to.
When I finally arrive home, Rosa quickly leaves, leaving me without dinner and two hungry kids. I opt for pizza, which seems to have pleased them, that is until Jessa vomits all over her bed.
I run a bath, sending her straight to it while I clean the mess with tears running down my face. Never have I experienced something so vile than the clean-up of someone else’s vomit.
Another reason why I don’t want to have children—like ever.
She’s happily entertaining herself in the bath while I sit inside the bathroom, slumped on the floor scrolling through my phone. My hair’s a wild mess—the bun no longer controlling it. The clothes I’m wearing are stuck to my skin from the sweat I gained from running around. I feel disgusting.
Noah had sent me several text messages during the day, making sure I was okay after last night. This most recent text is a picture of a bottle of wine which they ordered at some fancy restaurant they’re dining at. I know he’s with Haden, and knowing the two of them, they’re having the time of their lives while I’m home scrubbing vomit out of the carpet.
The text soon followed by another.
Noah: Stuck in San Jose. Flight canceled. Sorry baby, I’ll see you tomorrow.
Jessa continues to sing in the bath as the room becomes stifling hot. Gulping for air, I rip off my blouse, watching my skin turn bright red. Pulling myself off the floor, I head straight for the basin to turn on the cold water, so I can splash it all over my face and neck. It brings a small amount of relief.
“Mommy, are you okay?”
I breathe out, wiping my face before turning to see her with a forced smile. “Yes, Jessa.”