Scarlett
“D oes this look okay ?” I ask, tugging at my dress in the full-length mirror in the living room area of
the suite. Morgan is somewhere in the resort, pr epping other things, no doubt. Meanwhile, I am with
Donovan, who has offered to help me get ready because it’s not like I have a maid of honor or my sister
here with me. Thank God. That’s going to be a whole thing when this goes viral. But I can’t think about
that right now. Right now, I am focused on the task at hand. Not hating the dress I’m wearing. “I think
it’s very flattering,” Donovan says, standing behind me in the mirror. “What does that mean?” I ask, my
eyes meeting his in the reflection. “It means that it fits you and your shape well,” he says. I snort.
“Yeah. I’ve got plenty of that, that’s for sure,” I say, attempting to flatten the yellow frills around my
hips. Then resigning to the fact that the poof is just my hips, not the dress. “It’s very How To Lose A
Guy,” he goes on to say. “With more flair.” “Yeah well, I might just lose a guy,” I mutter. “Because I
feel nothing like Kate Hudson right now.”
“She’s overrated,” Donovan waves his hand. “You might be the only man who thinks so,” I tell him,
tugging at the dress some more. Donovan takes another st ep forward. “I’m pretty sure she’s not
Morgan’s type either,” he whispers even though we are alone. “Does Morgan even have a type?” I joke.
Donovan just smiles, his eyes meeting mine again, before turning to the door. “Wear the dress.”
“This is gorgeous,” I say as I walk into the garden. It’s dusk, giving the entire pool area a dark
ambiance, lit only by fairy lights, fire pits, and the orange sky over the ocean. I’m taking it all in while
taking photos. There are candlelit tables, a handful of well-dressed guests, food, drinks, and even a band
playing softly in the corner. I find Morgan talking to someone from the kitchen staff, a man that looks
like he’s probably the manager. They’re both smiling and nodding. I even manage to catch a photo of
Morgan laughing, which is absolute gold. His attention turns to me as I approach, and his grin softens to
a smirk. His eyes are warmer than usual, almost the color of the ocean in the distance. He shoves his
hands into the pockets of his gray slacks as he watches me. “This is wild,” I whisper as I stop in front of
him. “Is it?” he asks, taking a flower from a vase on the bar and tucking it into my hair. “It just looks
like a pool party for our elite guests to me.” I give him a look, and he grins again. I can’t figure out who
this man even is. “You are something else,” I tell him as the bartender nods up at me. “Just sparkling
water,” I say. “Why do you say that?” Morgan asks.
“Well. Either you are a very good actor. Or. You’re actually enjoying being here,” I say as I take my
glass. It may just be sparkling water, but it’s garnished with fresh fruit and a flower to match the one in
my hair. I take a photo before taking a sip. “Maybe both,” Morgan says with a wink, and my heart does
a little somersault in my chest. After that, we both look over the garden, and I notice even more details
than before. The pool is still with floating tea candles. There’s a raw bar and a grazing table of other
foods. Every table boasts its own pitcher of fruitfilled sangria. I pull my phone out and take some
photos, including a selfie of me holding a virgin drink in hand, as well as one of the two of us. I am
smiling up at the camera, and Morgan is smirking down at me. “I have to admit,” I tell him with a sigh.
“I love my job, but I almost wish someone else could take the photos for content for once so I can just
enjoy the moment.” “So put it away,” Morgan says, plucking my phone from my hand and shoving it in
his pocket. “People have been taking photos since you walked up. They’ll tag you and the reviews will
soar. For now, enjoy it.” I study him for a moment. This slightly softer, possibly rehearsed version of
Morgan. I’m sure it’s a stage face. It’s no secret to me that he’s about to pop the question, fulfilling the
most recently added clause of our agreement. But something about him feels a little different from the
Morgan I met at the office, the Morgan from the interview, and the Morgan on the plane.
The vampire she should avoid is usually the one she cannot forget.
This Morgan is more relaxed. He’s enjoying himself too. While I’m not sure what to do with that, I also
don’t hate it. Might as well enjoy the sun while the clouds are at bay, right?
Morgan and I make our rounds, talking to guests, enjoying the music, and refilling our drinks. He insists
on switching my drink to a muddled blackberry gin and tonic, but I politely smile with a shake of the
head and tell the bartender I’ll take another fruity seltzer water. “You don’t want a cocktail?” Morgan
asks, and while I very much do want one, I can’t. For obvious reasons. “I’m alright,” I insist. Morgan
studies me. “What about wine? The red is phenomenal,” he says, and my heart slams into my chest.
Because if I didn’t know any better, I’d say he was referring to the night at the Sapphire. Obviously,
he’s not. Because he doesn’t remember that night, right? “I want to remember every detail of this,” I
say, motioning around the party. “I don’t need alcohol to enjoy myself.” Morgan’s lips crawl into a
small smirk before nodding at the bartender again. “I’ll have the same thing she’s having,” he says and
for some reason, it makes me smile. “Alright, kids,” Donovan says after we both receive our drinks and
take a sip. “I think it’s showtime.” And my heart speeds up in my chest. Morgan just takes my hand and
leads me to where the band is set against the flowers next to the pool. He nods at them, and they nod
back before the singer hands him the mic. “Good evening everyone,” he says with more ease than I
expect for someone who never does these sorts of things. Though I suppose he is used to being the
center of attention, even if it is usually in a broadcasted conference room setting. “I trust everyone is
having a good time?” he asks and the small crowd claps and cheers. “Let’s hear it for the Coastal
Drifters. They flew in from the Bay to celebrate with us tonight. And speaking of celebrations...” His
eyes land on me, and he holds out his hand.
I take it and st ep onto the stage with him. “I’m sure every one of you knows who this lovely lady is,” he
says. I smile and wave, though my cheeks are warm at the sudden spotlight. I too am used to my
publicity being behind the safety and comfort of a screen. “And for those of you that don’t, maybe come
out of the hole you’ve been living in,” he says and everyone laughs. “In all seriousness, though,” he
goes on. “I discovered this vibrant woman the same way many of you probably did. Scrolling Instagram
as I lived vicariously through the experiences of influencers. But I’m pretty sure when I came across
Moore To Explore, I left skid marks on my phone screen. Because something about her, her travels, her
writing, her genuineness, it left me wanting to experience the world with her. And not just through cute
posts of beautiful places. I wanted to explore with her. And that’s what I did. “It’s no secret I am a bit of
a business hermit. It’s also no secret that some of my resorts have left something to be desired. That’s
why I am here, resort hopping to r epaint the face of the company I hold so close to my heart. But that’s
not the only reason. And it’s not the only thing close to my heart right now.” With that, Morgan turns to
face me and takes a st ep back, providing himself with the space to drop to his knee. A gasp fills the
warm night air, and I can see through my periphery a dozen cameras lift into the air. But that’s not even
where my focus is. The butterflies in my chest are fluttering wildly as Morgan pops open the ring box,
and they have nothing to do with stage fright. “Scarlett Moore, your passion for travel and adventure has
captured my attention and heart since the day we met. And I want to continue this journey with you until
the end. Will you marry me?” For a moment, I forget. I forget that this isn’t real. I forget that the ring he
is holding will probably be taken back. I forget that this won’t end in a wedding. I even forget to say yes
until people start cheering, and I make a crash landing back in the here and now.
“Yes...” I stutter, and as I nod, I realize that there are tears in my eyes. Tears threatening to roll down
my cheeks. Tears that might have already done so. Morgan slips the ring on my finger and rises to his
feet. Then he pulls me against him, cups my face in his palms and kisses me, catapulting my heart to the
moon. Unfortunately, my heart seems to have forgotten that none of this is real. But for now, I’m going
to let my heart believe what it wants. #inthemoment