𝙈𝙤𝙧𝙜𝙖𝙣
⊱ ─────────── ⊰

Day two of waking up in the new house. It's very surreal to me.
Not only was this entire build a surprise and showcase of my fiancé's talent, but it's our first home together, and in one of the best places in the nation to live.

Already, I can tell raising our children here will be slightly less of a challenge with the great school system and open yard for them to play in.
The hospitality and the fresh air is so, well, refreshing!

The fact that all of my things are already here, too, has also made the adjustment so much easier. It is so nice to be able to settle down in a new home after three months away, and not have to stress about much.

While I did get to meet a majority of the Easton Hills residents, I didn't feel like I connected with any of them yet. Sure that comes with time, but I want to be friendly and introduce myself. So, I plan on going to the next community meeting and making myself known.
This gated suburb seems like it will be a great place for me to try my hand at various tasks from selling my skincare to content creating, and even getting involved with the lovely ladies at the country club. While it's not my thing, Chris has taken on golfing and hit it off with those men, so I figure I can be a friend to their wives. Why not?

Luckily, with Chris's new schedule he picks his own hours. While I do get to enjoy more of him at home, he does still have to work, and that means in his home office majority of the time. Unfortunately for me, during his work hours, his study is off limits to me. Well, unless he asks me to bring him something to eat like right now for instance.

Knock. Knock.

Chris hollers, "Come in," so I do.

"Hey baby." His voice is music to my ears. I always love the way he says "baby." I'm a sucker for pet names, but only from him.

"How's it going?" I ask him sweetly, putting the plate down on his desk. It's a double stack turkey sandwich on white bread with lettuce, tomato, crushed red pepper flakes, oregano, onions, dill pickles, pepper Jack cheese, and real mayo, cut into triangular halves - his favorite. With it, Carolina style BBQ chips, and an iced tea.

"Where did you find these?" Chris is ecstatic about his childhood snack.

I hunch my shoulders humbly. "I looked everywhere, you're welcome."

"You're the best." Chris says, closing his laptop.

He invites me to sit with him and I do, right on his lap.

"Whatcha working on?" I hum, twirling my fingers in his hair.

"A lot." Chris answers without meeting my eyes.

He's switched from his laptop to his iPad and gets carried away with all of this supposed work.

I let out a long, deep sigh, hoping it will get his attention. It doesn't.

"Baby..." I purr in Chris's ear.

He shudders and licks his lips, staring into my eyes.

My heart thumps in my chest with excitement for what I think is finally about to happen, when Chris gets a call from Nia on his work phone.

Both eyes roll back in my head, annoyed.

"I'm sorry, baby," Chris says, kissing my shoulder. "I do have to take this, though."

"No, I understand." I exhale as I stand.

Chris's thumb swipes over the back of my hand. With a small smile, he asks me, "We still on for our date tonight? Ima cook for you."

I can't help my grin back at him for being so cute. "Of course." I reply on my way out.

"If you need something to do, you can finish going through the rest of the gifts in the other room?" Chris suggests.

That's actually a good idea. I nod my head.

"I have to finish writing the 'thank you' letters, too. Alright, I'll leave you alone." I shut Chris inside of his office so he can pick up the call on the last ring and avoid Nia's wrath.
From what I saw at the open house, the way she yelled at staff and her sons, she's not one to play with.

✕

A housewarming party is meant to create a positive beginning to a fresh start. Thank you for being part of that incredible experience, and for memories that will be cherished for a long, long time.
- Chris & Morgan Vaughn

I slap another piece of tape on an envelope and write Yara and Nick Adams's names on it.

This has gone on forever, I have memorized all of the words to the generic 'thank you' cards, and feel like I'm working on an assembly line at this point.

I need a break, I think to myself, rising from the floor where I was sitting at the coffee table in the family room.

Stevie and Duke jolt out of their sleep positions once they sense my movement, and follow me around the heap of gifts.
Over a hundred people were in attendance yesterday, only eight of them were close friends and family, and they all brought baskets, wine, and house supplies. Have no idea what I'm going to do with so many baskets. . .

I yawn, walking through the foyer to grab the dog's leashes from the coat rack, but notice a paper sticking out of the trash with a woman's grinning face on it.

Her face is one I recognized from the party, but we didn't get a chance to talk - she kept to herself mostly. I offered her an appetizer once, I believe.

The paper turns out to be a brochure of Easton Hills, our new community. I'm intrigued so I read further. Apparently, this Lydia woman is the president of the Home Owners Association. Hm.

Suddenly, I'm struck with a bright idea: since I didn't get to formally introduce myself yesterday, I'll go to her house and take a bottle of wine! She's obviously a big deal around here— or so she makes it seem with this self-published tri-fold brochure— so it won't be a bad idea to get in her good graces. I doubt Chris has taken the time to get to know her, anyway, so one of us has to.

I get the address of her house from the second page of the brochure which she volunteered that way she could show off the "best house in the neighborhood."

Well, her house isn't terrible. Dated, sure, but it's charming. I like it.

The brick is a bit intimidating, that, and the pillars.

It's almost nighttime so I try to come off as nice as possible, I'm sure a stranger coming up to this old lady's door at this time can look strange.

Knock. Knock—

Before the third knock, the door swings open.

"May I help you?" The woman, Lydia, asks me.

"Mrs. Augustin, hi—" I open my mouth to speak but she puts her hand up, throwing me off.

My facial expression shows my confusion.

"It's just Lydia, Mr.Augustin died." She tells me.

Oh. I feel bad, that wasn't in her bio.

I gulp. "Right, I-I'm sorry."

"Is that wine?" The boney woman asks me.

"Yes!" I perk up once I no longer feel awkward.

"Red?" She monotones, staring only at the bottle in my hands.

"A-huh!"

"That's the Beaulieu Vineyard bottle I left for you at the open house." She tells me with a straight face. As straight as all of those wrinkles can be.

My optimistic grin fades for a second time.

"Oh." I utter aloud, shrinking on her doorstep.

"Would you like to come in?" She asks, stepping away so I can see inside of her luxury home.

I get a quick glimpse of the mostly white interior. It seems cold, empty, and haunting.

My body shudders before she clears her throat and steals back my attention.

"No, thank you, really. I have to go, I just wanted to introduce myself." I explain, walking away.

"You haven't yet." She chuckles.

I stop on the sidewalk and laugh.

Turning on the heels of my shoes, I walk back up with my hand out for Lydia to shake.

"I'm Morgan Bennett, my fiancé and I just moved in the new house on Cobblestone Road," I tell her, rambling. "but of course you know that because you were there, so..."

"I'm Lydia, and I make it a point to get to know new faces." Her chilling, mature voice makes this come off like some sort of threat.

I curl my face unintentionally and stumble backward.

"Right, well, now we've met."

"Doesn't mean I know you." She says after me, stepping closer.

I take another step back and force a smile, shrugging my shoulders. "There's not much to find out."

"You come from New York, right? I'm finding it hard to believe there's not more to your story. Tell me, why'd you move here?" Her smiles goes crooked and there's a shimmer in her sharp blue eyes.

"Why did you?" I answer a question with a question and get a rise out of her taken aback reaction to it.

"No need to get wise, I'm only interested in maintaining the best interest of the people of Easton Hills, and no one knows you two young, rich newcomers. Surely you can see why we're so..." she stalls, trying to find the proper word to use.

I guess, "Curious?"

She smirks. "I was going to say 'eager to get to know you both.' Especially you. Where were you the past few months? I saw Chris day in and day out working on this build as a surprise for you, right?"

All I can do is keep my smile and not let her see how badly she's working on my last nerve.

President of the HOA, I internally remind myself so I can hold my composure.

"When did your husband die?" I ask the first thing that comes to mind to distract her from my personal business. Okay, I also wanted to see her face crack just once, that self-satisfaction smirk she's wearing was starting to make my eye twitch.

Laughter flies from Lydia's mouth but she quickly puts her red-painted fingers to her dry, red lips.

"Thank you for the wine, Annie." She calls me by a nickname only Chris uses.

"Excuse me?" I scoff, rolling my neck.

"Annie? I read that's what Christopher likes to call you."

"Have a good night, lady." I snark, stomping down her driveway.

✕

Glasses clink and the girls' laughter rings in my ear.

"Ugh," I groan, tossing my head back on the sofa, "y'all have no idea how happy I am you haven't left yet."

"Y'all? Oh God, the country's turned you out already.
!" Izzy laughs at me.

She's sitting on my right holding a glass of wine in one hand, and the baby monitor in another. Baby Kai is a blessing, but he hasn't slowed Izzy and Lee down a beat.

It's half past ten, I've been at their hotel for over three hours, talking and catching up. We're enjoying each other's company like we used to do, since we couldn't cut up in front of company at the open house.
I knew at the retreat that I missed them terribly, but I didn't realize until just now how badly I need them around.

"You guys don't have to leave, you know?" I tell them - a little drunk.

"Yes we do, Morgy, this is your life, not ours." Izzy says, rubbing my thigh for comfort.

Jasmine sighs. "I don't know where I'm going to live when we get back to New York."

I gasp and cover my mouth. "Oh my God, because you and J are splitting!" That almost makes me cry.

Izzy does sniffle and shed a tear, but pours her glass full with more wine so she can drink the emotions down.

"Morgan, don't. It's okay," Jasmine tells me, looking in her glass. "Really. It's mutual."

"Is it?"

Jasmine rubs her neck. "Well, not exactly, but he understands."

"You're taking this pretty well?" I wonder why.

She pops her shoulders. "It's time. I'm tired." Her head nods like she is trying to convince herself.

"I'm sorry you have to go through this." Izzy says what I'm thinking.

"Yeah," I agree, putting my hand on Jazzy's. "and I'll be here for you the whole way."

"Yeah." Izzy gulps down her third glass.

"I'm really sorry, Jasmine." I cry, lying my head on her shoulder.

She finally starts to cry and I can't even move to console her, I'm just as torn up over this right now.

Izzy rests her body on mine too and we all break down on the couch.

✕

The dogs bark upon my entry and only stop once I take the ball from Duke's mouth and throw it down the hall.

"Baby, is that you?" Chris's voice is welcoming.

He sounds far, so I follow it and meet him in the kitchen.

He smiles big but it fades upon reading my body language. That, and I know my eyes are red and puffy from all the crying.

"What, what's wrong?" He interrogates me, palming my face.

I shove his hands away from my body and pull my body onto a kitchen stool at the island.

Shaking my head, I stare at the backsplash and sniffle.

"I was just at Jasmine's, we were talking about the divorce," I drag my words with no more emotion in them. "I just can't believe they just aren't in love anymore. Like, they woke up one day and decided this, and they're actually going through with it."

"I don't wanna talk about that," says Chris. "Here, you hungry?"

I narrow my eyes on him with an attitude. "Chris, our best friends are broken up, divorced! You don't care about that?"

"No, frankly, I don't. I mean, it's sad but who cares, they're toxic? All J did was cheat, and Jasmine wasn't even herself in that relationship - you see it: she was a bitch, always drinking and trying to make everyone else's relationship miserable. I'm sorry, but this is literally for the best."

I jump out of my seat, not wanting to hear this, but Chris grabs me by the waist.

"Wait, wait," he talks to the back of my head. "I'm sorry."

He kisses my cheek and squeezes me in his arms. "Tell me how you feel, I wanna hear it. What's on your mind?"

I exhale through my nose and let my eyes roll, hesitating to reply. "It just makes me sad that they won't be together anymore. The fact that they were together, went through so much, and loved each other enough to get married and do the whole thing just to split a few short years later? I don't like it, I don't understand it. But you're right, I mean, she wasn't herself. It was time."

"Exactly," Chris coos in my ear. "but that's them, you don't have to worry about that, okay? Stop crying."

I turn to face Chris and he wipes my tears before kissing my nose and locking our fingers.

"You hungry, I cooked?" He says with pride, walking me to the stove.

I nod my pounding head and sniff again, concealing my feelings of sadness. I'm not completely at peace with the situation, but his insight was useful, I guess, in seeing another side to the story.

Chris makes me taste his homemade pasta sauce and smiles as my eyes light up at how good it is.

"Good, right?" He already knows, stirring the sauce in the pot.

"Mhm!" I bubble, wanting more. "Let me taste it again."

Chris feeds me a spoonful and then tells me to sit so he can bring over a full plate of pasta for dinner.