"When there are thoughts,
it is distraction"

"—Oh my God. Don't stop!" I beg out of breath, eyes rolling back in my head.

I'm lying on my stomach with my body turned so that I can kiss Chris as he thrusts into me from behind.

It hasn't been long and we've switched positions several times so that he can be comfortable with his leg and all.

Chris digs his nails into my hips and pounds harder, but at a slow leisurely pace.

He moans into my mouth, nearly sending me over the edge.

I'm almost there and announce that I'll be finishing soon, hoping he will too as that's the point of this.

"Ah," Chris grunts, gritting his teeth.

I open my eyes for a second and sees he's uncomfortable again.

"Do you wanna switch, baby?" I ask him gently.

"No, no," he insists, grabbing my hair.

I bite down on my smile and let him continue.

"Faster!" I whimper.

Chris rams into me harder and faster now, but not for long.

I'm disappointed when he finishes just as I'm getting closer.

"What the hell?!" I curse, frustrated.

Chris rolls over and lies on his back, cussing under his breath.

"Shit." He barks, holding his leg.

I cover myself up quickly and ask what's wrong, turning on the light.

"I got a cramp." He exhales, eyes squinted.

I suck my teeth and hit him with a pillow in the face.

"Stop, Morgan. What the fuck?" He seethes.

I roll my eyes and go to the bathroom.

When I finish, I return to the bed and get out my iPad.

"Woah," Chris voices. "what are you doing?"

"Looking over the guest list," I sigh, putting my hair up into a bun.

Chris kisses down my neck and shoulder. Whispering in my ear, he says, "you don't wanna finish?"

"No, I don't, actually." I reply quickly.

Chris tosses his head back, groaning. "Come on, I'm ready. What, you're gonna be mad at me because I got a cramp - I have a fucking broken leg, babe?"

"It's not the cramp, Chris."

"Then what is it?" He asks, arms flailing.

I throw my iPad down and whine, "You can't perform anymore, it's like you're distracted."

"Perform? Distracted? Oh my God, Morgan, I'm trying to fuck you."

I cross my arms over my chest. "Only because we're trying for a baby, but I'm not gonna get pregnant this way."

He pinches the bridge of his nose. "I haven't been able to finish because my leg, it's not like there's something wrong with my dick. What am I supposed to do?"

I drop my jaw at his idiotic question. "I don't know, how about fucking me like a man?"

Chris mimics my jaw on the floor. "Did I not just do that?"

"No, you got a fucking Charly horse." I mumble, rolling over in bed.

Chris rips the sheets off of his body and stands over our bed.

"If I had to just sit there and spread my legs it would be a lot easier." He argues.

My eye twitches at his imbecile comment.

I sit up and blink at Chris. "Excuse me?"

"Just laying there and spreading my legs is enough for you any other time."

"Well you haven't been performing the best lately." Chris tells me, hands on his hips.

I laugh sarcastically. "Good enough for you to cum in a minute."

"You're going to hold that against me forever?"

"You forced me to bring it up."

"You know what," he exhales, pacing. "I am distracted."

I raise my shoulders and quickly drop them. "Ok, by what?"

Chris shakes his head. "It's not by anything, I just— I need to breathe and disconnect for a while."

"Oh, like a vacation? Yay, where to?"

"I mean alone." He makes clear.

I gasp, jumping to conclusions.

"Are you leaving me?" I ask, panicking,

"Baby, I was just joking about you cumming quick, I don't mind; it's flattering, really!"

Chris chuckles just for a second before his face straightens.

"It's not you," he assures me. "it's everything else."

Once he sits on the edge of the bed on his side, I crawl to him on my knees to massage his tense shoulders.

"Want to talk about it or no?" I ask quietly.

"No," he replies, dry. "but I am going home - to Colorado. Just for a few days."

I exhale deeply, still rubbing his shoulders. "Okay, baby, if you need it..."

"I do," he confirms, nodding.

I gulp and then kiss his head. "Well, when you come back are you going to be ready to fuck me, or?" I make Chris laugh.

He laughs, playfully pulling onto his lap, tickling me.

➤

Wednesday morning

"Thanks for breakfast, baby." I say to Chris as I enter the kitchen after my shower.

I walk behind him and kiss his back and arms, just happy to show him affection.

"How'd you sleep?" He asks me, puckering his lips for a kiss.

"Like a baby." I tell him, giggling.

"Sorry it's late, I didn't wanna wake you..."

I don't mind it being late morning, popping a shoulder.

"Did you double check your suitcase?" I ask Chris.

He pops a pill into his mouth and washes it down with Sunny D.

Nodding, Chris says, "Triple checked it, yes ma'am."

"Staying at Red Sage?" I wonder.

Chris makes a plain face at me that tells me he's not and I shouldn't have asked.

"Too much drama." Or so he says.

"Still? I thought your parents made up?"

Chris rolls his eyes as he cleans the counter.

"They did, they're just weird. I don't want to get involved," he lets me know.

I nod, understanding, as I pick at my French toast.

"I'm just happy they worked it out."

"Are you?" Chris inquires, insinuating he's not.

"Yes," I smack my Aquaphor-doused lips.

"What are you doing today?" He asks me, changing the subject.

I let out a sigh. "Mom's coming, we're going to do some shopping for my bridesmaids."

He chews a mouthful of scrambled eggs and nods his head at me to show he's listening.

KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.

That must be her, I think.

I pop up from the chair and follow Duke and Stevie to the front door.

"Move." I shoo them out of the way so that I can let my mother in.

"Morgy!" She exclaims upon seeing me for the first time in person in months.

"Hi, Mom!" I squeal, just as excited.

"You look so good! Honestly, this is the best you've ever looked." She compliments me.

I blush. "You say that every time you see me, Mom."

"Well that's because you're so fucking beautiful - you're my daughter." She laughs, following me through the house with a duffel bag.

"Oh shit, let me hide the Tequila." Chris jokes with my mother.

Mom finds him amusing as always, laughing at her future son-in-law.

She pushes her sunglasses over her hairline and displays a huge smile.

"Don't you dare." She laughs, hugging him.

"Hey, Kels, how are you?" Chris asks, holding onto her thin waist.

"Better now that I'm seeing you. How the hell are you?"

He smirks, shrugging. "Can't complain."

"No? What about that leg?"

"I can still dance," he teases.

"Good, I want to go out while I'm in town." Mom pats his chest before taking a seat at the island by me.

"Oh, Chris won't be here while you're visiting, Mom," I break the news. "He's going to Penshaw."

Mom pouts. "Ew, why?" Her response makes me laugh. Chris, too.

"Just to visit some family," he answers.

Mom spins on the barstool. "Can't you do that when they come in town for the wedding?"

Chris opens his mouth to speak but I butt in.

"Mom, do you not want to spend time with me?" I'm only kidding.

She kisses my cheek. "Oh, of course I do, honey! K, what are we doing first?"

Before I can answer, Jabari busts in.

"HEY-O!" He sings, strolling through the living room.

"How my favorite white people doing?" He humors us.

I notice my mother stand, clear her throat, and fix her bone straight hair.

"Kelsey, mm mm mmm." Jabari teases, looking her up and down.

"You know if you wasn't married, I'd-"

"That's enough!" I interject, covering my ears to avoid the rest of that sentence.

Ew.

I don't know when they started this fake flirting but it has got to stop. My mom is actually attracted to Jabari, and though I'm sure she's happy with Dad, I can definitely see her having some sort of midlife crisis and "accidentally" sleeping with Chris's best friend.
I'm cringing at the thought.

The two of them hug and then Jabari greets Chris with their handshake.

"Good morning, lil sis." He says, acknowledging me last.

I hug him from the side and tell him good morning back.

"Don't you have work today?" I ask J.

He makes himself a plate without asking.
"Nope."

Mom twirls the ends of her blond hair. "So then you'll be joining us today?" She flirts.

Ewwwwww!

Chris and I make faces at each other across the counter.

"Actually, I'm going with Chris." Jabari says with a mouthful of turkey bacon.

My face falls, going cold with a spiteful look at Chris.

He knows exactly why I'm mad but I'm not going to bring it up in front of company. But I should pinch him.

"Well you boys have fun," Mom says.

"I'm going to go to my room and rest until you're ready to go." She comments, excusing herself from the conversation.

"Bye, Kels." The boys chorus.

"Christopher," I deadpan.

"Yes, dear?" He remarks smartly.

"Help me feed the dogs?" I clear my throat, walking slowly towards the sliding glass door.

Cup to his lips, Chris says, "Oh, I already fed them."

"Come feed them again." I bark, snapping my fingers.

Chris trails me to the shed out back where we keep the dogs' outdoor necessities. Though they have a bedroom inside and often eat in there, we like to let them spend a lot of time outside so they have bowls out here and other supplies.

Inside the shed, Chris laughs awkwardly.

"Don't." I quip.

"I was just going to say you look beautiful," he tries sweet talking.

I roll my eyes back in my head. "Why can Jabari go and I can't?"

"He's going with me just in case."

"Just in case? What, you need a bodyguard now?" I scoff.
"Chris, if something's going on, tell me right now."

"Nothing's going on, baby, I promise."

"So why is he going with you?"

"I told you: just in case. You know how shit is, especially in Penshaw. I'm just being safe."

I relax my arms and let them fall to my sides.

"Okay." I relent.

"Okay?"

"Yes, sorry," I lament. "Paranoid."

"I know," Chris says, rubbing his hands up and down my arms.

"Well..." he hesitates.

I flail my arms. "I fucking knew it."

"No, no, no. Listen, there's this woman I forgot to tell you about-"

My eyes bulge. "Spit the rest out. Quickly."

"Like, an older woman."

"Oh."

"The new president of the HOA," Chris tells me. "Her name's Candy, or something."

"You mean Tandy?"

"Yeah, she fuckin' pressed me the other day."

"About what?" I ask angrily, arms crossing over my chest.

"She asked why I didn't vote for her?"

"So?"

"I don't know, she was just really pushy and passive-aggressive. I didn't like it."

"And now she's plotting to kill us?" I monotone.

"I don't know what the fuck she wants, but it was weird. Oh, and her husband is the fuckin' sheriff."

"That's a good thing, isn't it?"

"Not if he's a shady cop."

"So, now what? Is there something in Penshaw that you're going to handle? You think she's tied to Malcolm maybe? Damn it, Chris, I don't want you going on any more missions. I told you last time-"

"No, this is unrelated, I think. I'm just warning you in case you run into her, but I got Annette to look into it."

"Chris, you got Annette into this? You know she wants to retire." I sigh, palming my forehead.

"It was a favor."

I shake my head. "Are you telling me I need to stay away from this lady?"

"Just until Annette gets back to us."

I nod, agreeing once I understand.

"Chris, if I find out you go to Penshaw and some shit happens, I swear to God, I'll-"

"I love you, too." Chris speaks fast, kissing my head.

With a deep sigh, I reply, "I love you more."

"Not possible," he recites, taking me by the hands.

➤

Later that day

Seventy degrees of afternoon sunshine hits my forearms as I use my hand to shield my eyes from the light.

"How about Greek?" Mom asks how I feel about another lunch option.

I don't bother to verbally answer, I just shrug my shoulders because she'll decide for the both of us anyway.

She sighs heavily and unlinks our arms.

"Hello!" A hostess welcomes us outside of a Mediterranean restaurant.

"Hi," Mom speaks. "Table for two."

"Right this way," the short brunette leads.

We're sat at a table outside under a red umbrella and offered menus.

Within a minute, a bouncy redhead waitress addresses us.
She flashes a tip-worthy smile and asks what we'd like for drinks.

I'm too busy replying to Chris's several missed texts to answer.

(𝙲𝚑𝚛𝚒𝚜 𝙾𝚖𝚊𝚛🤍)𝙹𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚕𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚍
(𝙲𝚑𝚛𝚒𝚜 𝙾𝚖𝚊𝚛🤍)𝙹𝚊𝚋𝚊𝚛𝚒 𝚒𝚜  𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚑𝚎'𝚜 𝚙𝚖𝚘
(𝙲𝚑𝚛𝚒𝚜 𝙾𝚖𝚊𝚛🤍)𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚔 𝙸 𝚜𝚊𝚠 𝙰𝙹 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙼𝚊𝚍𝚒... 𝙸 𝚍𝚘 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚔 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖

"—And she'll take a lemonade, no ice. Thank you." My mother speaks for me, smiling cheekily at the waitress who tells us she'll be right back.

"You didn't have to order for me," I mumble, sinking in the chair childishly.

Mom rolls her icy blue orbs at me. "Well, you clearly weren't going to. What's in that phone, why're so distracted?"

That word triggers me because that's exactly what I said to Chris the other night.

My eyes flicker as I lift them to look at my mother. Hers are curious, prying even.

I huff. "That was Chris, I'm just worried about him. I'm worried about everything."

"You need to stop worrying or you'll have wrinkles on your wedding day, and they won't be designer."

I force a breathy laugh out. "Mom, I don't even have a maid of honor."

She looks sad for me, her almond eyes turning down as the corners of her pink-stained lips droop.

"I'm sorry about Jasmine, honey. I don't think I've told you that, yet."

I let her console me by rubbing my hand over the table.

"It's okay..." I whisper, trying to not let it bother me.

"Here are your drinks," the waitresses voice appears. "You ladies ready to order?"

"Could you give us another minute?" Asks Mom, smiling quite friendly.
She has a thing about being polite to wait staff so they don't "spit in your food."

"What about Izzy?" My mother brings up another name that means nothing to me anymore.

I shake my head. "We don't talk anymore."

"You know all of those girls online who are always commenting cute things on your pictures."

"They're just Instagram models, we're not really friends, Mom."

"Well they always call you bestie and say they love you."

"Mom." I grunt, wanting her to stop talking.

"Hey, didn't you say Jabari has a new girlfriend? I'm sure you two will hit it off."

Faith, Jabari's latest victim. Nice girl, yes, but naive. The guys called her "overly comfortable." Shortly after following me on my socials, she began messaging me and sending reels and Tiktoks, most of them being of group trips with her suggesting we should go out soon and how she'd like our kids to grow up together. As bright as she seems, we're all a little dumb and delusional when it comes to love (lust.)

I do like her, though. She's pretty and a girl's girl. If it weren't for Jasmine, I'd actually give her a try. I'm not saying my trust is completely fucked up and that I'll never have another friend again, but it's probably best to keep Faith at an arm's length for now.

"O.K. I see how hard you're thinking about it, so forget I brought it up. Maybe you can just have no maid of honor and no bridesmaids, how about that?"

I exhale deeply as I flip the lamented menu to the other side and say, "It might end up that way."

➤

The next day

"Jesus Christ, Ann, what is all of this?" Mom laughs in shock at the mail delivery. Her hands cover her heart-shaped lips.

I guide Tommy to the storage room in my office space downtown.

"I warned you, Mom." I laugh.

Tommy drops a few packages onto the floor with a grunt.

"Mrs.B, this is nothing compared to the usual." He makes it worse.

I roll my eyes at them both. "You're complaining, Mom, but some of your birthday gifts came from these deliveries."

She zips her lips shut, locks it, and throws away the key.

"Morgan you should really hire someone to help you manage all of this," My mom nags me.

I grab a package and rip it open, wasting no time.

"Black bath robe?" I offer Tommy.

"Ooo, Fenty?" He asks, catching the package.

"You don't want?" He makes sure first.

I shake my head no. "Me and Chris already have too many robes. It's all yours."

"Fuck it, I'll be your assistant." He jokes, trying on the robe.

Ding-dong.

My eyebrows furrow at the sound of the front door opening.

Tommy and my mother's eyes whip to me curiously so I go check it out.

A wide-hipped woman with deep red short hair helps herself to a look around my space.

"Uh, sorry," I speak up, "we're not open for business."

"Oh no, I'm not here to shop." She tells me.

She kind of reminds me of Sigourney Weaver, I think in my head.

No, no, that's not it — I'm thinking of someone else. Hmm. . .

I stop near a z-rack and slide my hands into the back pockets of my denim shorts.

"Alright... what are you here for, then?" I inquire.

She sort of smiles crookedly. "I'm Tandy Moran, we're neighbors."

Allison Janey! Yes, that's it, she sounds like Allison Janey. It was going to kill me if I didn't figure that out.

"I was just stopping by; I wanted to formally introduce myself." Tandy asserts, looking around the place.

"I followed you online, trying to do my research, but you didn't post about owning a boutique." She falters, flipping through my winter clothes on a rack.

"I don't own a boutique. I'm sorry, you were researching me?" I'm baffled.

"As the new head of the HOA-"

"I don't care about the HOA, respectfully."

"So that's why you didn't vote?"

"Vote?" My eyelids flicker with confusion.

"For the new President of the HOA? No matter, I won, anyway."

"Did you just move here, or something? Where did you come from?"

"No, I've been here for months; long enough to have known Lydia Augustin. I'm sorry for your loss."

"Who else do you know?" I bravely ask, wandering around the counter.

Slyly, I pull out my phone to start recording without her being able to see the screen.

It would be no coincidence if she's a friend of Malcolm, Beck, Sabrina, or Tate's. The list goes on.

Tandy looks at me genuinely like I have three heads.

"I don't understand the question?" She laughs awkwardly.

Hm. Her body language isn't tense, intimidating, or threatening. I decide to believe her. For now.

"I'll be sure to vote next time." I speak impassively.

"That's all I ask," she beams. "You scratch my back, I scratch yours."

"I'll remember you said that," I declare as she exits.

Laughter erupts from the back office reminding me that my mother and Tommy are still here.

Hurriedly, I send Annette the audio clip of my exchange with Tandy Moran.

"Honey," my mother shouts, "everything okay out there?"

"Yeah, Mom." I holler back.

"Who was it? A customer?"

I impatiently roll my eyes, fingers tapping as I anxiously await Annette's response.

Her text bubbles go away in our iMessage thread, only multiplying my consternation.

In a matter of seconds, though, Annette Butler's contact comes across my phone.

I hurriedly answer her call, saying, "I know you're ready to take a long vacation, but I need a favor."

"You know I was already on it," she says with a sort of smugness.

"Who is she, and what do I need to know?"