“It’s just… I don’t see how you could be upset if he is having an affair. I mean, you’re having one.”
“I never said I was angry about him having an affair. I said it better not be with her. She’s his assistant, and it’s too risky to mix business with pleasure. We can’t have anything ruining the company’s reputation or sexual harassment lawsuits messing with our money.”
“Oh,” I reply softly.
I’m confused. If this is how marriage is, I don’t want it. Two people fall in love, only for them to both become unhappy and cheat on each other. Whatever happened to sticking it through and doing whatever was necessary to make it work? Maybe that’s why I have such a hard time dating. No one takes relationships seriously anymore.
Monroe plops down on the couch. “I know what you’re thinking, and don’t worry, all marriages aren’t like mine.”
“I know. But with my dating track record, I think I’d much rather remain single and save myself the heartache.”
“Your Prince Charming is out there, sis. He’ll find you. Now, let’s finish your ‘Becoming Monroe’ training. We have an early flight tomorrow, and you have to be ready.”
The next morning comes, and I realize this is tougher than I thought. I spent the entire night practicing to be Monroe, and I hated every second of it. As we board the plane headed to Los Angeles, I start to feel butterflies in my stomach, and it isn’t from a fear of flying. I’m nervous about what I’ve agreed to do, and I all of a sudden want to back out. I take my seat next to Monroe and lock my seat belt. She pulls the shade up and stares out her window.
“I think we’re making a mistake,” I whisper.
“Don’t you dare back out on me, Mo. I need you,” she replies firmly.
I hesitate as a couple place their bags in the overhead bin and take their seats across from us. I smile at them before I lean in and speak softly to Monroe. “This better just be for the weekend.”
“It will be. He’s already paid for the Airbnb. We’ll be back on Sunday.”
“Okay. And you’ll call and check on me, right?”
“Yup. Do you remember everything I taught you?”
“Yeah, and I have notes saved in your cell phone. Why couldn’t you have gotten an Android?”
“Because iPhones are better. I’m going to hate having this big-ass SG10 of yours for a whole weekend.”
“At least mine is more user-friendly,” I add.
“You’ll get used to my phone once you’ve used it enough. Now, all we need to do is switch our driver’s licenses and our social security cards. Oh, and you’ll need my credit cards also. I love to shop, and you can’t be any different.”
“I hate shopping. I usually do it all online.”
“Well, that’s a no-no, sis. I never shop online. Rodeo Drive is the way to go. I like to bounce from store to store.”
“I’m nervous,” I admit.
“I know, but you’ll do great. Think about it, sis, who else would know me better than you?”
I do know my sister well, and I could tell anyone anything they wanted to know about her. But that doesn’t mean I want to act like her. Monroe is selfish, conceited, and arrogant at times, and I don’t think I can bring myself to act that way.
I place my earbuds in my ears as I rest my head against the back of my seat. I watch the young kid in front of me stare back and forth between me and Monroe. I smile at his confusion.
“You look like her,” he says in amazement.
“She’s my twin sister.”
“Can people tell you guys apart?”
“Usually no,” I answer. And I’m hoping that will be the case this weekend.
Chapter 3
Morgan
“Don’t be nervous. You can do this,” I repeat to myself at least a dozen times as I walk back and forth in the kitchen of my sister’s home.
I had no idea her house would be this big. It’s decorated beautifully. It boasts spacious rooms, upgraded appliances, a pool, finished basement, and the shiniest hardwood floors I’ve ever seen. Monroe gave me the tour of the house, and it had taken me at least a few hours to remember what room was used for what and where everything was located. Jasen would be arriving home soon, and I had to get it together before he walked through that door. Once she was confident that I was okay, she left to meet Cooper. She promised she would stay in contact by text and limited calls, and I would meet her Sunday afternoon at the mall to swap our phones, licenses, and credit cards before I flew back to Philadelphia.
I stop in my tracks as I hear the front door slam. This is it. The plan is in motion. My heart beats faster, and my palms become sweaty as I try my best to remain calm in the denim jean skirt and midriff top that Monroe forced me to change into. I’m sure this is regular attire for her, but it isn’t something I would wear, and I feel very exposed at the moment. Jasen walks in with his briefcase, and immediately, my lungs stop working. He drops the briefcase down in front of him and watches me with the sexiest dark brown eyes I’ve ever seen. This is not the teenaged Jasen I remember. He’s bigger. Sexier. His muscles strain against the blue collared shirt he’s wearing. His sleeves are rolled up, revealing thick biceps. He looks like walking lust and temptation. He turns and opens a cabinet. “How was Philly?”
“Good,” I answer as my body heats from nervousness. And other things.
He closes the cabinet and turns around to face me. He narrows his eyes as he tears the wrapper off the granola bar in his hand. “You’re awfully quiet. Is something wrong?” he asks before taking a bite.
“No, everything’s fine,” I reply.
“How’s your sister?”
“She’s doing great.”
“So, you two are good? You’re speaking again now?”
“Yup.”
“Good, now you can stop talking about how much you hate her.”
“What?” I ask softly.
I’m not sure if I heard him correctly; did he just say that Monroe hated me?
He stops chewing. “Oh, come on, you say it all the time, Monroe. How Morgan was the favorite, and how Grandma Rose always defended her no matter how wrong she was.”
So, I had heard him correctly. I’m instantly angered. Monroe hated me. She betrayed me, so I should be the one hating her, not the other way around. Had I known about this sooner, I would have never agreed to help her. I snap out of it and answer his question. “We worked out our differences. Everything is good now.”
He takes the last bite as he watches me. He swallows and tosses the wrapper in the nearby trash bin as he walks closer. My body stiffens when he stops right in front of me.
Uh-oh!
He’s entirely too close. His lips are mere inches from mine, and I can smell the mixture of peanut butter and chocolate on his breath. I can also smell his cologne. And it’s intoxicating. He places his hand around my waist and gently pulls me to him. “Did you think about my suggestion? Are you willing to try?” he asks.
“Yes,” I answer as my eyes fixate on his.
“So, you’ll go?” he continues.