Wanted For Pleasure: vol 2

Chapter 58: it's gonna take a bit of work

"The best relationships in our lives are the best not because they have been the happiest ones, they are that way because they have stayed strong through the most tormentful of storms"

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𝑴𝒐𝒓𝒈𝒂𝒏

"—Yes, thank you. I see. No, that's no problem at all. I appreciate the call."

"In the meantime, I suggest you keep looking, Mrs.Vaughn." The realtor offers.

"Oh," I stammer, pacing around the living room, "I'm not married, yet."

He only called me that because I used Chris's card for a necessary payment. What, he has better credit? Plus he gave me permission when I asked him for some money and said to get whatever I need, but I didn't let him know that it was for house-hunting purposes. It wasn't a chunk of change he'll miss, anyway. As much as he's making, it'll shock me if he notices.

Besides, soon enough, what's his will be mine and vice versa. I've already thought about our wedding: I'll have a princess dress. I'm in between the beach or on a hill/cliff, though.

My eyes roam down to my bare ring finger and I sigh.
I'd love to be Mrs.Vaughn once this is all over, of course. I actually can't wait.

"Very well. I'll stay in touch, good luck with the house search! Tennessee is a great place to call home." Mr.Fender hangs up the phone eventually.

I sit with an overwhelming sense of discouragement. Another failed attempt at finding a home far away from New York. Everywhere is either way too expense, not big enough, not home-y enough, or down right in an undesirable area.

When Chris and I settle down officially, once all of the bullshit is out of the way, I want us to retire to an area with a lot of land - somewhere we'll call home forever. A place to raise the kids and our dogs and their puppies. The house that all of our friends and family members will want to gather for any and all events, big and small. I can see it now, our kids bringing over their friends all the time because our house is "the cool house."

Little by little, I've started packing already. I'm not sure where we're going or when we're leaving but, damn it, we're leaving, period.

I've even told social media that I'm taking a hiatus. I can't be a super fun, bubbly content creator when I'm under all this stress. It's no fun living with my head on a swivel.
Every random girl to me could be her, I'm constantly looking over my shoulder. I don't know who to let get close to me anymore and I don't want any girl around Chris at all. I hate that that seems insecure but it's just the point I'm at.

A phone call makes me stop playing fetch with the dogs to answer it.

"Hey, Chris." I speak casually.

"Morgan, I'm just checking on you. Everything okay at home?" His words make me blush. No matter how long we've been together, or if I'm currently upset with him, he's still so cute and genuine.

"Everything's fine. Thank you. How's work?"

"Not good," he answers fast. "I'm on my way home. I just need you to be— nevermind. I'll see you in a minute, alright?"

"Chris," I fret, "is everything okay?"

He hangs up, leaving me to wonder.

A few moments later . . .

Chris is knocking at the door.

I had to change the locks due to paranoia. We did hide that spare key in a much safer, more smart, place but concerns that Sabrina could've found it and made a copy keep me up at night.