Might as well give him a pair of pink heels, that apron Morgan had worn, and stick him in the f**king kitchen. He was done.
“Uh, I love you too, dude?” Garrett eyed him cautiously. “You okay? You’re kind of freaking me out right now.”
Mike snapped himself out of it. “Yeah. I was just picturing how I’d kill you if you ever hurt my sister.”
“Wow.” Garrett tugged at his bowtie, seeming relieved at the change of topic. “Guess I’ll have to not hurt her then, huh?”
Mike clapped him on the shoulder. “Somehow, I think you can manage that. When you love someone, you try to make their life better, not worse.”
That’s why he had set Morgan free. Let her leave angry at him instead of being torn about what she should do. Which was why he’d said he didn’t mean it when he said he loved her. Also why he’d flipped out at her about her work, knowing it would set her off, and he’d tried not to let her know how much he would miss her.
And, damn it, he would miss her a hell of a lot. He already did.
Garrett fiddled with his bowtie again, then dropped his hands at his sides so Mike could help straighten it. “Is Morgan out there?”
“Uh, no.” Mike’s fingers stilled at the mention of her name but he forced himself to keep moving. “We’re kind of done. She got a part in a play that’s going to be touring the country so we figured it was best to call it quits.”
Alistair knocked on the door and poked his head in. “Hey.”
“Hey,” Garrett said without looking away from Mike. “Why did you guys have to split just because she got a role?”
“Were we ever really together?” Mike asked, his voice choked.
“You let her leave? But I thought you were going to fall in love with her.” Alistair nudged Mike, a grin on his face. “Came to your senses once the booze wore off, huh?”
Mike swallowed hard, trying his best to sound casual. “Yeah. Something like that.”
Alistair’s smile slipped. “Oh.”
“You okay?” Garrett grabbed his arm. “If you need to—”
Mike shrugged free. “Stop hitting on me. I’m not your type.”
“Mike,” Garrett said, his tone hard. “I’m being serious here.”
“I know. I’m fine. Enjoy your day.”
Garrett looked at him for a little while longer, then nodded. “All right. But if you need me—”
Mike held his hand up. “You’ll be on your honeymoon, having the type of fun with your wife that I don’t even want to begin to contemplate, since I’m convinced Amy was Immaculate Conception.”
Garrett snorted. “Uh. Yeah. That’s right.”
Mike continued on. “And I’ll have your kids while you’re gone.” Mike forced a smile. “You’ll be fine and so will I. I promise to keep them alive.”
“Um, if you guys have had enough female bonding then it’s time to go get married.” Alistair opened the door and then whispered to Garrett, “Want me to help you run away since your best man won’t?”
“Nah. My feet are happily pointed toward the altar.”
Mike’s smile slipped a little bit. Yeah. His had been, too, even if he had been drunk off his ass. “Let’s go. I’ll get you up there and make sure you stay.”
Chapter Fourteen
Morgan stood on the church steps, took a calming breath and smoothed her sweaty palms across her light aqua dress. The chiffon skirt blew in the chilled evening breeze and she rubbed the goose bumps from her arms. Her hair was in a loosely braided bun and her makeup was flawless.
Everything was perfectly in place, except her.
She wasn’t supposed to be here. Mike had told her they were done and walked away without a second glance. But she clung to the hope that he’d been hiding his pain from her and that he might actually love her, like he’d shouted in the hallway. That his words hadn’t been a slip of the tongue, but rather the truth slipping free.
Because she definitely loved him. And she wanted him back.
She treaded up the first step, her heart in her throat and her boots each weighing a ton. Though she should have worn heels underneath her floor-length gown, she kept her boots on for one reason and one reason only. Mike liked them. And if she was going to crash his sister’s wedding and tell him she loved him…then she was going to do it right.
Damn it.
By the time she reached the door, her hands were shaking and she swore her feet were going to slip out of her boots from the layer of sweat covering her body. With her hand on the large metal door handle, she stood there panicking. She couldn’t do this. Couldn’t beg him to love her and give her another chance.
Could she?
The door swung open and Brianna was there, smiling. She grabbed Morgan’s arm and hauled her inside, closing the door behind her. “Are you going to stand there all day or are you going to come in and sit before the wedding starts?”
Morgan blinked at the shadowy interior. The church smelled like incense and expensive cologne. The lights were dimmed low and an organ strummed lightly from within the church. “Did it start yet?”
“No.” Brianna grabbed her hand and tugged her toward the double doors. “Your husband is already in there, at the altar. You can sit up front with the family, on the left.”
So, Mike hadn’t told Brianna they’d split up? Hadn’t told his family what had happened? They had no idea and thought she was just another member of the family now. She wasn’t. At all. She couldn’t do this—pretend to be something she wasn’t in front of the people Mike loved.
Not to mention the fact that if she sat up front with his family, he would see her right away. She wanted to watch him from a distance and assess the situation. Get the metaphorical balls to approach him. Panic clawed up her throat, choking her. “Oh, no. I don’t want to be a bother. I’ll just sit in the back.”
“But—?”
Morgan slid into the last pew in the church, hastily crossing herself as she sat. “See? I’m fine back here. I’ll talk to Mike after.”
Brianna gave her an odd look, but then patted her shoulder. “Okay. I’ll see you at the reception.”
“Yeah. Sure.”
Morgan watched Brianna rush back into the foyer and then sank back against the wood pew. She could make out Mike at the front of the church but his back was to her. If she had any luck, he wouldn’t see her until the wedding was over. Then, and only then, could she approach him and pull him into a private room.