How you react to adversity and temptation is a critical factor in whether or not you arrive at your own 'happily ever after.'

April

I'm waken up to Duke's constant howling. If I said that never gets old, I'd be lying.

"Chris..." I groan in bed, rolling over.

My eyes are closed, it's too early to open them.

I lift my arm and try to use it to slap Chris awake except he's not in his usual position.

Sniff.

I don't smell turkey bacon. Hm.

The shower isn't running either. He must be [drumroll, please] in his office. Of course.

Stevie, my other Dalmatian, starts to lick my hand until I acknowledge her.

"Alright," I croak, rising up, "I'm awake. I'm up."

➤

It's almost eight in the morning. I've just finished using the bathroom. I would've showered but Duke hasn't stopped wailing.

Where is his father, I think in my head.

Chris shouldn't be up this early on a Saturday but I figured if he got up before me then he'd take out the dogs at least.

Since everything that transpired months ago — you know, with Tate, Jasmine, Lydia, Ray, and Ben— Chris immediately went into overdrive, working day and night to distract himself. It was worse than before. So, I made him promise he'd take it easy. We had a vacation planned but it fell through with the news that Lydia had passed. It's been months, we haven't gotten around to it.

Our therapist, Rita Hassan, expressed her concerns about Chris's nonstop working as well. So, unless he has a deadline to meet, he gave his Saturdays up. This made room for us to spend quality time together and it's done us a lot of good.
Plus, since his surgeries, we've been inseparable. I know couples need space, and we give each other that most of the time, but I do enjoy spending our whole weekends together when we can.

Throwing on a robe and my fuzzy slippers, I lead the dogs downstairs.

But first, I stop down the hall.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

I wait for permission to enter but it takes a while.

"Baby?" I call out, still knocking.

"It's me, can I come in?"

He doesn't answer.

Typically I don't knock. Or I do but only once before I just barge in anyway. If he's super busy he'll shoo me out but that's rare.

I enter anyway.

Laughter immediately comes out of my mouth as I see Chris asleep at his desk in what looks like the most uncomfortable position ever.

This is not the first, third, or fifth time I've found him like this. I should've known.

My fiancé is a heavy sleeper. I'm only glad that he doesn't snore.

Duke and Stevie come running in, ruining the element of surprise.

I remain giggly, seeing Chris jump up.

He sees me and the dogs and smacks his swollen lips, upset with such a rude awakening.

"Good morning, hubby." I sing, letting some light in.

"What time is it?" He groans, wiping slobber off his cheek.

I laugh at his disheveled hair and go, "Breakfast time. What'd, you got out of bed to come work last night?"

When he stands to stretch, the bottom of his off white vintage t-shirt rises, exposing his abs.

Yawning, Chris sticks his hands down his shorts and starts to put some stuff away where it belongs on the desk.

"I, uh, got this idea. It came to me in, like, a dream. Had to come sketch something." Chris tells me, showing me the rough design.

"What's this?" I ask, taking the paper from his large hands.

Chris stands over my shoulder. "The other night you said something about how you want the kid's playroom to have this upper-level railroad track, I thought it was cool so I tried to see how that would work. Early stages, very early stages."

I take a minute to admire how he listens to me and remembers the things I say even when, to me, it's just pointless yapping.

Smiling, I rest my head on his chest.

"What do you think?" Asks Chris, rubbing my shoulder.

I twist my mouth in thought and then look up at him, grinning.

"Early stages," I whisper.

➤

8:45 am

I peek over my shoulder to check on the dogs outside. They're fine, enjoying the seventy degree weather. It's a slight breeze, too, that's perfect if you ask me.

Duke and Stevie are still the best dogs in the world. While they are mature, I do sometimes find myself having to remind my fiancé that they are just dogs. Duke has ripped up a few blueprints, Chris claims he's out to get him. I tell him it's revenge for not taking in Piper.
After Lydia passed, I took care of Piper until Andy and Lucy just took her one day. Yes, Chris just gave my grandbaby away like that! He stood firm that we didn't need more than two dogs, saying one is more than enough. If it were up to me, we'd have a whole farm.

Laughing still, I jump up from the stool and go around the island to make myself a nuisance as Chris tries to cook us breakfast.

I squeeze his cheeks together so his lips are tight, and speak in an expressive voice. "Who's a fish? Say 'I'm a fish.'"

I pinch the skin under his chin and pull down. "Who's a turkey? Gobble gobble."

Chris starts to laugh, fulfilling me, so I leave him alone for a few minutes.

Sigh.

I love our kitchen. One of the best parts of the house and that's saying something because it's so well done.

Chris asks me to hand him a few slices of turkey bacon to slap on the flat grill.

Seeing Chris in the kitchen is definitely a turn on. He knows what he's doing and takes charge. It also helps that he's in nothing more than a pair of socks and pajama pants.

"Why you looking at me like that?" He tests me, smirking.

Coy, I roll my eyes away from his muscles and take a sip of my orange juice.

My eyes pan to the sticky note I left on the fridge:

Call Marie & Annette & Mom

"Ssssshit!" I curse through gritted teeth. "Baby, why didn't you remind me?"

"You're blaming me?"

"You are my accountability buddy," I reply, popping an eyebrow.

Chris gives me a thumbs down, not taking his eyes off of the golf tournament playing on his MacBook.

Witnessing his small celebration after one of the players scores, tell Chris, "You can still play, you know?"

"No." He shuts that down quickly. "I don't want to be around those people."

"You don't know that they're all like Tate-"

"I told you: I just don't want to associate with anymore stuck up people."

I hunch my shoulders. "But you really liked golf."

"I also liked basketball, you don't see me doing that anymore." Chris affirms.

I'm reminded of the last time he played basketball. It wasn't good. He fought Rodney and those guys, things got messy.
Now he's hurt so it doesn't matter anyway.

"How's your leg?" I ask to change the subject.

He pops his left shoulder nonchalantly.

"It's fine."

"Hm." I sound back, knowing he would say that.

He's always "fine."

Not wanting it to slip my mind anymore, I decide to call Marie now, my wedding planner.

Chris, mouth full, stands in a T-pose. "Aye, you're not gonna eat? It's breakfast!"

I wiggle my arms like the Frog teacher from Fish Hooks just to throw him off and it works. He laughs at me, waving me off.

I jump onto the couch and call Marie from my iPad.

"Hi!" She exclaims, having picked up on the second ring.

"Marie!" I return the same bubbly energy.

"So happy to hear to voice again, we've been emailing so much! How are you?"

I flip the hair over my shoulder and smile in the camera.

"Good! Life is good, yeah. I honestly have no complaints." I say, looking over my shoulder at Chris in the other room - the reason for my happiness.

He fists pumps proudly for my compliment.

After some small talk and catching up, Marie needs a bit more information from me.

"—So, the dress you originally wanted was purchased by someone else unfortunately. I searched all over for one just like it, but none of them screamed you, you know?"

"Honestly, Marie, I'll walk down the aisle in a paper bag at this point, I just want to get married!" I scream-laugh.

Duke and Stevie find themselves sitting under me, patiently waiting to be played with.

Chris comes over and waved to Marie in the camera.

"Uh-oh. You hear that, Chris? No need to pay for a dress." She pokes fun.

Chris, hating meaningless chitchat and fake laughter, makes an amused face at me and then plops down on the other sofa.

"Speaking of paying," her airy tone rings, "I saw in the email that you said your budget went up. Did Mr.Architect get a raise?"

Chris and I exchange looks and silently laugh.

"Yeah," I tell Marie, "something like that."

In reality, Lydia left her whole fortune to Chris and I. Well, mostly Chris, but she told me she wanted to pay for the wedding, and that I can have all of her vintage clothes. She didn't have any other family members and said it was the least she could do since we took such good care of her.

It is an overwhelming figure, I'll admit, but that's not a complaint. I just never thought I'd have so much money in my lifetime. Hell, I used to be a waitress at a knockoff Hooters in Arizona. Some nights I didn't have dinner, I used to go months without having car insurance — yes, that's illegal, but I couldn't afford it sometimes. And now I'm among the highest paid influencers, passing creators like Alix Earle, Nara Smith, Liza Koshy, and The D'Amelio sisters, according to Forbes.

At first I was just posting pictures that went viral just because I was pretty, I guess. Then I made Tiktoks and even started a few trends. After that, I started doing more brand photoshoots, making GRWM videos, mini vlogs, PR unboxing Tiktoks, and Q&A's.
I didn't think I would take off because I didn't ever leave the house to attend the prestigious events companies invited me to, but then I started selling my skincare and that did amazing numbers. My supporters wanted more of me so I made a YouTube and that's been a lot, I've just come back from a hiatus after Jasmine's trial.
I have made a bunch of influencer and celebrity friends, appearing on interviews and podcasts more recently.

I like this little life. There's nothing hard about it. There are people always in your business but that's because I let them in it. I don't mind, I'm an open book.
Other than that, content creating is easy and I hate when people say otherwise. All I do is yap in the camera, do a couple of ads, and collect a bunch of free stuff from companies.

Chris sometimes doesn't want to be all up in the camera, which is understandable, but he's such a good social media boyfriend. He'll be in my vlogs and even take pictures for me sometimes, and help with unboxing.
My favorite part is when people ask us relationship questions, or when brands send stuff for Duke and Stevie.

With this sudden lump sum of money, Chris and I had to open other bank accounts and move the money around. We split some just to pocket for rainy days or my shopping sprees. Really, I don't need much. Not now, anyway.

On one of her better days a couple of months ago, Lydia took me downtown. We came across this space that was available for rent. I told her I would turn it into a studio; I have so much stuff from my influencing career, I could use the space to make TikTok and Instagram content and even sell my skincare, or merch since my followers have been asking for some. A company had just reached out for me to collab with them for phone cases and tote bags, too. And what perfect timing, that's when Lydia revealed to me that she had purchased the space and she surprised me with the keys.

For now I'm using it as an office and storage space for my ingredients and PR. Chris is thankful for that because he yells at me everyday to get my shit out of the way. It's not my fault I get, like, twenty packages a day.
Still, not complaining!

➤

Later that evening

"—Admit it, you can't beat me." I brag to Chris as we pull into the driveway.

We'd just come back from Topgolf, one of our new favorite date night spots. It's in the rotation along with comedy clubs and going to the movies.

Coming down from a fit of hysterical laughter after Chris attacks me by tickling my neck, I unfasten my seatbelt.

"What if I let you win?" He asks, getting out of the car.

Humming, I pat my thighs, waiting for him to come around and he does within seconds.

Chris opens the door for me and takes me by the hand to let me out of the passenger seat of Shego — my car, a silver 2024 BMW X6 m competition.

He pushes the door shut and then backs me against the SUV.

Chris pops an eyebrow at me, his tongue in cheek as he awaits my response.

"You don't have to let me do anything." I sass, poking his chest.

"Ooo," I bubble, "someone's been working out."

He shrugs as if he's so humble. "You know, I do what I can."

"Mmm, it's working." I flirt, chewing my lip.

"Yeah?" He rasps, looking into my eyes.

I swallow hard and nod, sucking my lips in.

"You're cute," he says deeply, slowly pulling away after kissing me.

Headlights appear in the driveway, making Duke and Stevie act as guard dogs, alerting us.

Beep. Beep.

The FedEx driver makes himself known before getting out of the truck.

"Delivery!" He shouts, jumping into the driveway.

"Hey, Tommy." I greet him with a smile and wave.

"Hey, the dogs up?" He returns.

Chris walks towards the front door to unlock it. "Yeah, they're inside." He says.

"Can you give them some of these?" Tommy offers a small plastic bag full of treats.

When he hands it over to Chris, they dap each other up and exchange words.

"Smells peanut butter-y," I comment.

Tommy nods. "You said Duke didn't like the blueberry ones I made last time."

I shrug. "He'll eat whatever, thank you. I still can't believe you make them."

"I love to bake," he tells me. "You know I have four dogs myself."

I nod my head, remembering he told me that before.

"So! What you got for me today?" I ask, excitedly rubbing my hands together.

Tommy looks past my body and eyeballs Chris, then he whispers to me, "The big guy isn't gonna be happy."

"Uh-oh," I grit my teeth. "It's a lot?"

"Oh yeah." Tommy affirms.

Tommy lifts the door and reveals a heap of about fifteen medium-sized boxes.

I cover my agape mouth.

"Did these not get sent to the store?" I ask him.

Tommy shakes his head no, laughing. "They all have your address on them."

"I'm gonna need one of these trucks myself pretty soon..." I suggest, hands at my hips.

"You can say that again." Tommy chuckles as he starts to unload the packages.

"Here, let me help you." I offer, taking a few off of his pile.

Tommy follows me to the front door where Chris is standing outside of his Tesla, smoking a blunt.

I try to act casual when I walk by my fiancé as if I'm not hauling three boxes myself.

"Try not to make eye contact." I tell Tommy and he just laughs, following me inside.

Eventually Tommy leaves and I go inside to start unboxing my packages so they're not all over the place. The last thing I want is for Chris to trip over something.

I'm in the middle of filming an intro to a video when Chris walks in.

"Hiiiii, honey," I draw out my words, stalling.

Chris shakes his head at me, leaning against the doorframe with his arms folded over his chest.

"It gets to a point," he copies my TikTok vocabulary.

I facepalm, sitting crisscrossed on the pink fur area rug of my home studio (aka, a guest room which I converted into a work space.)

"The mailman hate to see you comin'." He goes on.

I laugh, throwing my head back. "Okay, I get it!"

"What you got?" He asks, coming to sit with me.

I scoot between his legs as I look over the packages.

"Oh, look," I exclaim, "this one's for you!"

I crawl across the floor to grab one of the soft packages and bring it back in my lap.

With a quickness, I rip open the bag, revealing a plush men's robe.

"Oh, baby, this is nice. Can I have it?" I giggle, holding it tight to my chest.

Chris snatches his robe and playfully mushes my head away.

"This is nice," he says, putting in on. "Make sure you tell them I said thank you."

I nod, fixing my hair.

"Maybe you can wear this on our honeymoon... whenever that'll be." I drop hints.

When Chris doesn't say anything back right away I start to sarcastically cough.

"You want me to give you an answer but I don't have one," he tells me.

I fall onto the floor dramatically, frowning.

"Why can't we just get married, like, next month?"

"Morgan, I have a fucking brace on, you don't want this over my tux, do you?"

I pop up and shrug. "I don't mind."

Chris knows I'm joking and pushes me back down, annoyed with me.

"Plus it won't be a good honeymoon if I'm limping around," he says, sounding sorry.

I sigh, sitting up once again.

Positioning myself in his lap, I kiss his cheek, nose, and forehead.
"It'll be a honeymoon as long as we're together. I don't care what we do."

"So then we can just stay here."

I furrow my eyebrows and look around confused. "Well, no." I disagree.

Chris laughs, wrapping me in his strong arms.

He softly leaves kisses on my chin, then my neck and collarbone.

"It won't be long, baby," he whispers, looking up at me as I'm on my knees.

"I'm getting strong just for you."

I smile against his lips. "I just can't wait. I'm going to officially be your wife. Me: Morgan Vaughn! Sounds good, doesn't it?"

"Mrs.Vaughn? I like it." Chris says, smiling wide.

"You wanna go upstairs and finish what we started last night?" I smirk.

Chris raises an eyebrow, intrigued.

"I mean, the movie..." I kid, rising from his lap.

I look back at Chris and he hangs his head, laughing.
"Got me all excited for nothing." He mumbles, following me down the hallway.

Stevie runs to me, letting me pet her coat.

"Come on, baby," I talk to her in a baby voice. "you ready for bed?"

"Shit," Chris suddenly curses.

I stop before the staircase and ask, "What's wrong?"

"I forgot to call Mary back," he groans, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Call her now, you know she's gonna freak." I tell him, rolling my eyes back.

"No, I don't feel like dealing with it."

I suck my teeth. "Chris, you never want to talk to your mother anymore."

He clenches his jaw, already over this conversation.

"Fine, I'll call her." I huff.

"No, don't. I'll call her in the morning," he claims.

"You better or you know she'll blame me," I scoff, ascending the stairs.

Chris trails me to our bedroom and shuts us inside.

I strip down the bed before sitting on the edge to remove my shoes.

Returning from starting the shower, Chris peels off his shirt and jeans.

"I don't know what she has against me all of a sudden, but she doesn't call me anymore unless it's to get a hold of you. You know she doesn't even comment on my Instagram pictures anymore? And— oh my gosh— I sent her a text the other day just saying, like, 'good morning I love you have a good day' and she just sent me a thumbs up." I rant, removing my jewelry.

Chris laughs through his nose.

I smack my lips. "It's not funny?"

He shakes his head. "I'm sorry, it's not. She shouldn't be like that. I'm just laughing because I told you, she's weird lately."

"She'd probably be less weird if you called her, Christopher."

"Not the first name." He pretends to be scared.

I laugh a little and then follow him to the bathroom.

Chris stands close to the door, looking at me in the eyes.

"Don't give me that face," he tells me.

I blink at him with a straight face, arms folded across my chest.

"I'm not doing this with you. Call her."

He pinches my lips shut to get me to stop talking.

"I will," he tells me. "First thing in the morning. Swear."

Deciding to believe him, I let it go.

"Thank you," I exhale, throwing my hands up.

Chris picks my lip up and says, "Who's a dog? Say 'I'm a dog.'"

Annoyed, I jokingly bite at him.

Chris gasps at this.

"Bad dog!" He says, flicking water from the sink on me.