Beyond the Blue, page 22
After passing an enormous bathroom, Morgan walked downstairs and inspected the archipelago of framed family photos on the wall. Their wedding, the births of the girls, various vacations, and lots of school photos. Not many with Mei in them. She must be behind the camera more often than not, which was a shame. Expensive-looking furniture and tasteful rugs sat around the family room, but one of those weird family rooms without a television in it. An enormous kitchen led into a formal dining room too fancy for Morgan to dare tread upon it. Too cold to wander outside, Morgan pressed her nose against the patio’s glass doors and peered out into the yard. Not a blade of grass out of place, from fence to fence expansive and well kept.
Only two doors remained. One led to the basement, where Morgan did not venture with Mei still asleep. Finding your girlfriend rummaging around in your basement on her first time sleeping over seemed creepy. Or worse, quirky. The other door intrigued her more, closed with an Arizona Diamondbacks plaque affixed on the front. Since Mei could barely stand to watch a single at bat of a baseball game, Morgan assumed it must be Allan’s office.
Though this room remained locked away, Allan’s touch spread through the rest of the house. His shoes waited by the door, his huge physique and contagious smile appeared in every photograph, and his clothes hung on the right side of the bedroom closet. His presence loomed like the shadow of a solar eclipse. By nature Morgan was not a jealous person; those who grow up destitute know how easy it is to lose everything, so she never learned covetous inclinations, least of all toward another person. Besides, how could she resent the man who loved the woman she adored? No, Morgan wanted to know his likes and dislikes, what Mei loved about him and what she didn’t. If Allan lived on as her roommate in Mei’s heart, Morgan wanted to know all about him.
“Morgan?” Rubbing sleep from her eyes, hair tousled and clad in silk pajamas, Mei had no business looking as beautiful as she did standing at the top of the stairs. She radiated poise and elegance, strength and beauty, even unkempt from sleep. Morgan often fought the overwhelming feeling she did not deserve to behold Mei at all. “Hey, you’re awake early.”
“Never been good at sleepovers. First nights are always the hardest.”
With a soft chuckle, Mei descended the stairs. “Unless it’s me at your apartment and I sleep so well I don’t leave for days.”
“Not entirely your fault. The Morgan Kelly Experience has exhausted many women.”
Stopping on the last step, Mei put her hands on her hips as Morgan approached her. At this height, Mei could stare directly down into Morgan’s eyes. Placing her arms on either of Morgan’s shoulders, Mei tilted her head. “And how many tickets have you sold to the Morgan Kelly Experience? Is it more exclusive than ‘the gun show’?”
“Why?” Eyebrow raised, Morgan leaned in with a little smirk. “Do you have a jealous streak, Dr. Sharpe?”
Idly dragging her nails along the shorn hair on the back of Morgan’s neck, Mei shrugged. “I like to think it’s a balanced amount of jealousy. Enough where I keep you to myself because you bring me joy, but I do not keep you from what brings you joy.”
Morgan pushed up on her tippy toes to press a kiss against Mei’s lips. “Ah, so your possessive bit at the wedding?”
“My possessive bit?” Mei inquired archly, blushing up a storm. “You gave me a hickey. I couldn’t wear a low-cut shirt for weeks.”
“Don’t deflect,” Morgan chided. “We both know what you were after on that dance floor.”
“Fine. I may have been a tad jealous of your admirers at the wedding, yes. But ultimately, I was fully confident I would have the last dance. And I did.” Mei played with the hem of Morgan’s borrowed tank top strap. ”Would you like me to make you breakfast?”
“Baby, I’d like you to be breakfast,” Morgan replied easily, sliding her hands around Mei’s waist to cup her butt through her silk shorts. “But I would settle for pancakes.”
Dipping her hand between them, Mei took Morgan’s chin and lifted it. “There is ample time for both.”
Eyes ablaze, Morgan bit her bottom lip and gazed up in unadulterated desire. “God, I love you.”
With two successful charges awaiting conviction and a total of three solves on cold cases under their belt, Morgan and her team worked like train engine operators going full steam. Their dungeon was now outfitted with real desks and state-of-the-art computers. Even her own standing within the department rose—they included her in supervisory meetings and office-wide celebrations. It left little time to do much else, but thankfully Mei had sort of taken up living with her on those long weeks. Mei watered her plants and ironed their clothes. Morgan made sure to take care of their laundry, as Mei stayed over so much she practically had a full wardrobe in Morgan’s closet. This casual domesticity was wonderfully grounding. Spending her days sifting through brutal old murders, having something normal and reliable to come home to at night kept her from spiraling too deeply into her caseload.
Cleaning up after dinner at Mei’s, Morgan stared out the window at the falling snow. Hands dunked into soapy water, she daydreamed about the first night they met up outside of grief group and how beautiful Mei had looked in the glittering snow. The trajectory that landed them here in Mei’s house was not what Morgan expected, but infinitely better than the several months of pining and agony during those first three months.
“Morgan?”
“Hmm?” Turning her head, the annoyed but affectionate look on Mei’s face led her to believe she’d accidentally ignored her girlfriend. “Sorry, zoned out a little. What’s up?”
“I asked if you’d made any arrangements for Christmas.”
“What do you mean?”
“You said you normally go on vacation. I assumed you were doing the same this year.”
“Oh, no,” Morgan said, waving her off. “I got so busy I didn’t ask for the time.”
“Ah, okay.” A pregnant pause built between them as Mei rested her hip against the counter. “Would you like to spend Christmas with me and my family? Now, I know you are hesitant to do a big ‘present thing’ with other people, and I respect that. I won’t be upset if you say no. I will also say, as a warning, my mother will be there. Take that as you will.”
Shifting her weight, Morgan gazed into the stainless steel sink as she contemplated the offer. On the one hand, it meant great progress in their relationship. Mei’s family didn’t know about them yet, and Morgan possessed no plans to press her on it. On the other hand, the thought of sitting through someone else’s family holiday filled her with dread.
Beside her, Mei grew fidgety at the lack of response. “Like I said, you’re free to say no. We could see each other the day before, or that night, if you want.”
“So, um, you want to tell them about us?” An attempt to be casual, but she couldn’t deny the tiny wellspring of hope burbling inside her.
“Yes. I—I will speak to my daughters and my mother before Christmas to be sure you’re not a surprise. Besides, it’s long past time for them to know I’m in a relationship. My absence at Thanksgiving was evidently an event and they’ve become rather suspicious.”
“Suspicious of what?”
“Of what or whom is making me so happy.” Mei pecked Morgan on the cheek.
“Oh?” Morgan closed the dishwasher and set it to run, nabbing Mei by the hips to pull her in close. “They think you’re getting laid, don’t they?”
“If they do, they would never say it outright.”
“They’re like, ‘Damn, Mom’s been so happy recently. I bet her partner knows how to lay that pipe.’”
Mei balked away from her, but Morgan gripped her tightly. “I would certainly hope if my daughters discussed my sex life they’d avoid a term like ‘laying pipe.’ I would hope they’d avoid talking about it altogether.” Half-scandalized, she cast sidelong glances at Morgan. “‘Lay pipe.’ Who even says that? Honestly.”
“I love that little blush you get when you’re embarrassed.” Shimmying out of Morgan’s reach, Mei skittered away and giggled as Morgan chased her through the house and bounded up the stairs. “Wait up, we need to do some plumbing.”
“You’re a monster!”
Rolling up to the curb, Morgan threw Dorothy into park and scrambled out of her seat. Twenty minutes late to Christmas with Mei and her family, she vaulted up the steps of Grace’s porch in a panic. Taking a moment to settle herself, she swiftly knocked and waited, taking deep breaths. She didn’t even have time to look at the house in full—she could tell it was big, white with black trim, sparse holiday decorations other than warm yellow string lights along the porch and a single wreath on the door.
From the other side, Morgan heard an unfamiliar voice. “Always been a lightweight, just like—” The door swung open and Morgan prepared her biggest smile. “Daddy.”
Her smile fell and she furrowed her brow in confusion. The woman must be Lara, Morgan figured, based on the telltale tattoos and extremely queer vibe. She bore a striking resemblance to Mei, with her angular features softened by the genetics of her father. “Excuse me?”
“Jesus, sorry, I wasn’t calling you ‘Daddy,’” Lara replied, flustered. Her eyes, the same twinkling brown as Mei’s, trailed her from head to toe. “Not unless you want me to.”
Barging in behind Lara appeared another woman, taller and equally as beautiful. The genetics in the Lin-Sharpe family were truly something else. “What she means is, ‘Hi, Morgan. I’m Lara, resident gay disaster. Would you like to come in?’”
“You’re Morgan? Our mom’s girlfriend, Morgan?” Lara asked, turning to face the other woman, presumably Grace, who nodded once. “Well, shit. She told us to expect you for dinner but she didn’t tell us to expect…” Lara gestured at her. “All this.”
Peering down at herself, Morgan looked up and shrugged. “Ah, well. I can’t be anybody else, unfortunately. I left my other skin suit in the car and I’m already twenty minutes late.”
Lara barked out a laugh, stepping back and out of the way. Bookended by Mei’s daughters, Morgan awkwardly kneeled to remove her boots, making quick work of her laces and placing them near the collection of shoes by the door. The interior of Grace’s home was unsurprisingly fastidious, tastefully decorated with objet d’art from around the world. Near the fireplace, tucked into a brown leather recliner that looked like it cost more than Morgan’s car, sat Jui-Yu, Mei’s mother. Next to her stood a handsome man with short, curly black hair and deep green eyes. He strode forward with a big, toothy grin and relieved Morgan of her coat and hat.
“Hey, Merry Christmas, Morgan. I’m Mateo, Grace’s husband. It’s great to meet you. Mei’s told us all about you.”
“Oh, boy.” Morgan smiled back at him. “Nothing too incriminating, I hope.”
“Nah, but she did mention you have a seventy-one Cyclone?” he ventured, folding her coat over his arm to shake her hand.
“Yeah, I do. Would you like to see it?”
Grace scoffed, striding across the room to perch herself on the arm of Jui-Yu’s chair. “He would love nothing more. Maybe you can trade toys or whatever it is gearheads do.”
“I have a sixty-eight Camaro SS in the garage,” Mateo replied, unperturbed by his wife’s teasing.
Morgan whistled. “That’s a beauty. Does she run?”
“Oh, yeah, like a dream. Anyway, we can talk shop later. Let me put your things in the guest room,” he said, scurrying out of the living room.
“Also detach our children from their presents and tell them dinner is ready,” Grace called after his retreating form. “Thank you.”
Standing in the living room with Lara, Grace, and Jui-Yu, Morgan felt like she’d been thrown into a cage ring. Thankfully, Mei emerged from a hallway and smiled brightly at Morgan as she crossed to her.
“Hello, darling,” Mei greeted, taking Morgan by both her hands and subtly appraising her. She’d worn one of the nicest outfits she owned that wasn’t a suit: a cranberry button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up her forearms, tucked into a pressed pair of form-fitting, smoke-gray slacks. She’d even taken the time to apply makeup, something she hadn’t done since Ruiz’s wedding. In her distress, she’d snapped a photo of herself and sent it to Reyna, who’d given her stamp of approval. However, the growing look of concern on Mei’s face caused her heart palpitations.
“You have grease on your face.”
Eyes widened, embarrassment and resignation made her stomach tighten. “Oh, geez, I’m sorry. Big holidays tend to be a magnet for car trouble. People get stressed out and ignore the warning signs of malfunction. I saw some folks broken down and I can’t let them sit there, not on Christmas. One was a flat, but then I came across a family having engine trouble. Anyway, that’s why I’m late. I’m so sorry everyone, to keep you waiting.”
“Come here,” Jui-Yu called from her seat.
Stepping around Mei with a wary look, Morgan strode to Jui-Yu and knelt next to her chair. Despite her diminutive stature and seated position, Jui-Yu had a command over the room, and Morgan knew she made the right call by getting eye-level with her. “It’s an honor to meet you, Mrs. Lin.”
“Let me see you.” Without any other direction, Morgan remained still as Jui-Yu narrowed her eyes at her in silent inspection. “Okay. Go clean up. Everyone is hungry. My great-grandchildren are starving.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Morgan stood, holding her hand out to Grace. “It’s nice to meet you, Grace. Your mother speaks very fondly of you and your sister.”
“She spoke fondly of you as well, the one time she mentioned you,” Grace remarked with an arched eyebrow. “You may use the bathroom next to the kitchen.”
Mei intervened, taking Morgan’s arm. “I’ll show you.” Escorting Morgan through the warm and fragrant kitchen, she corralled them into the powder room and breathed a heavy sigh against the closed door. “Sorry about that.”
“About what? Everyone was polite considering how late I am. I really am sorry. I had to help those folks. You know I have to try.”
“It’s okay, I know, my lovely caped crusader,” Mei soothed, wetting a washcloth to rub the grease from Morgan’s face and arms. “It’s only dinner. It’s still warm and it’ll be as good now as it would’ve been twenty minutes ago. I’m just glad you’re here.”
“Me too.” Once the last of the grease disappeared from Morgan’s face, Mei tilted her head up and kissed her. Morgan slid her arm around Mei’s waist and held her close, nuzzling their noses. “Merry Christmas, babe.”
“Merry Christmas. Now, I will apologize in advance for what my daughters and my mother will say to you or at you over the next few hours. Mateo is wonderful and will be a normal person, but all of those in my bloodline are suspect.”
Chuckling, Morgan swept some of Mei’s hair behind her ear. “Duly noted. It can’t be any worse than what I put you through on Thanksgiving.”
“Oh, my darling, it can be much worse. My one daughter is an uptight stickler who will grill you without mercy, and by the looks of it, my other daughter might want to eat you alive.” Mei sighed. “It’s astonishing to think perhaps my mother will be the least problematic.”
“I think you’re underestimating my ability to woo the Lin women. It happened once, it can happen again.” Clearing her throat, Morgan puffed out her chest and offered her arm. “Now, let’s get out there before your family thinks I’m debauching their mother in the bathroom.”
Dinner began smoothly; she exchanged small talk between herself and Mei’s family. Grace’s children, precocious and smart, fell into an easy rapport with her about Harry Potter. (Julia a proud Ravenclaw, Nathan a Slytherin, and Morgan considered herself very much a Gryffindor.) Meanwhile, she could feel the inter-generational stare of the Lin women on her at all times, ranging from cold scrutiny to warm interest.
“Morgan,” Lara began, narrowing her eyes. “Have you ever been on a stakeout?”
Tearing her attention away from Mateo and a promise to let him drive her car, she nodded to Lara. “Yep. A few times when I was a detective, why?”
“Were you ever on a stakeout near the city college? A couple years ago?”
Though uncommon, any stakeout assigned to her blended together into a monotonous string of late nights and bad coffee. Mentally flipping through her inner file cards of cases, she finally landed on the right one. “Oh, yeah. It was a suspected drug ring, if memory serves. Turned out to be bogus, but my partner and I sat out there every night for a week.” After another long pause, Morgan laughed. “You were that drunk girl, weren’t you?”
Lara returned her laughter with a nod and raised her drink. “Guilty as charged, officer. I cannot believe my mom is dating Detective Dimples.”
“I’m sorry, what?” Mei glanced between them, bewildered. “I’m dating who?”
“It was one of Lara’s many crushes,” Grace supplied with an eye roll. “That year she was prolifically horny and exceptionally gay.”
The children—and Mateo—giggled, and Mei shot Grace a withering look. “Grace.”
“I can’t believe that was you,” Morgan said, grinning. “You had much shorter hair then, which proved helpful when you threw up on me.”
“Oh, Lara,” Mei admonished.
Despite Mei’s embarrassment, Morgan recalled the incident with delight. “I’m astounded you remember it at all. You were pretty wasted.”
“I remember,” Lara elaborated, “because you were so nice to me. Even after I aggressively came on to you and then threw up on your boots. You still made sure I got back to my dorm safely.”
“Of course.” Morgan shrugged it off. “That’s my job.”
Lara shook her head. “No, most cops would’ve given me a citation or sat me in the drunk tank. Trust me, because that happened, too. Only once did someone treat me with any care. You got me to my dorm, laid me on my side so I wouldn’t choke on my vomit, and left me a bag to puke in. I couldn’t thank you for it, but I never forgot it.”
