Palm flat against the wood, he waited.
Nothing.
“Morgan, if you don’t open up right now, I’m kicking it in.”
The knob turned.
He knew something was wrong immediately. Her usual impeccable appearance was gone. Barefoot and clad in sweatpants and an old sweatshirt, she looked back at him with a dullness in her blue eyes that scared the crap out of him.
He stepped inside and closed the door.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you our appointment was canceled,” she said politely. Morgan walked over to the bar and poured clear liquid into the glass. Whoa, that wasn’t water. Or wine. Hell, that was straight vodka over ice. “I had a bit of a problem.”
Cal assessed the situation. Slowly he sat down on the couch and watched her. Something bad had happened. He kept his voice light and nonthreatening. She seemed to be a bit in shock. “Is your mom okay?”
She seemed startled by the question. Good, that dragged her out of her hell and reminded her things could be worse. “No, she’s fine. I showed the Rosenthals the house.”
“I was there, but no one showed.”
“Their flight came in early, so I decided to take them myself.”
Irritation rose, but he pushed it back down. Probably after their encounter she hadn’t wanted to deal with a confrontation. He couldn’t really blame her, though it was his right to stand beside her when they presented the house. “What was their reaction?”
She gave a full-out belly laugh with no humor. “They hated it! Oh, this wasn’t a bit of dislike where they want to change this and that, or do some tweaking. No, they hated it. Hated my choices and furnishings. Hated the colors. Hated the grandfather clock Dalton spent hours on and the cabinetry he lovingly crafted. They hated Tuscan tile and the brass bed and the film room with the red velvet chairs we restored. They hated it.”
Shock raced through him. It had never occurred to him the Rosenthals wouldn’t like the house. Morgan had been ruthless regarding her choices, putting everything she had behind every nail and piece of wood and swing of the hammer. “Baby, I’m sorry. I really am. But they must be blind. You put your heart and soul into that house.”
Her head swung around. Blue eyes glinted with fury. “Exactly.” She lifted her glass in a mock salute. “I went wrong the moment I started choosing things I loved rather than think of my client. I built that house for me, Cal. Me. Not the Rosenthals. My ego got the best of me, and now I’ve failed. Not only my clients, but myself.”
His voice lashed like a whip. “Don’t you give me that shit,” he said. “You’re not a failure because you took a chance. Because you tried to create something a person would love instead of some pretty objects on a shelf an onlooker would admire. You found yourself when you were building that house, Morgan, and you found me with it.”
“Don’t! I’m not in the mood for false declarations, Cal. Don’t push me.”
He got up from the couch and stalked toward her. “Well, I’m gonna, whether you like it or not. Here’s the thing. You’ve spent your life creating perfection for others but it never touched you. Sure, you took pride in your work, but this house was personal. It’s filled with who you are, like a precious gift you tried to give. Did it work for the Rosenthals? No. But that’s their damn loss. And you did the same to me. Gave me yourself, all of you, and I walked away. I’ll regret that for the rest of my life, Morgan, but it’s something I’ll have to live with.”
“Stop.” Her hand trembled around her glass. “You need to go. I don’t want to hear that you’re sorry we didn’t work out. I don’t want to hear that you loved the house we built together. I just want you to leave.”
“Never. Do you hear me? I’m not leaving you, Morgan, never again. I love you. I never should’ve walked away last night, but I’m stupid enough to think I needed time.”
Her shoulders slumped. Cal’s heart sank in his chest at the defeated look on her face, a look he’d never seen before. “I understand. You needed to be honest, and it’s best if we part ways. I don’t belong here anymore. I need to deal with the fallout and go back to Charleston for a while. Decide what my next move is.”
“Oh, no, you’re not.” He spun her around and forced her head up. “You’re not going anywhere, not without me. This is the deal. You made a very reasonable argument last night about making sure I have no regrets. The truth is simple. If I let you go, I’ll never forgive myself. It will be the biggest regret of my life. I need you, Morgan Raines. I love you. I don’t give a damn about children, because you’re my family. You and my crazy brothers and my goofball dogs. If we decide to adopt, great. If not, I don’t care. I want you by my side every day. That’s all I need to be happy.”