Fix Her Up (Hot & Hammered #1)(20)

The pressure in her chest had been growing stronger since this afternoon. By now, it felt like a pair of pliers was digging into her heart. God, I’m such an idiot.

She’d worn her hair down and everything. Made a cheese plate. Cleaned.

Just thinking about it made her want to die.

In a burst of much-needed movement, Georgie slapped on the light in the aerobics room, tossed her duffel near the stacked mats, and plopped cross-legged in the center of the floor. Maybe Zumba would be good for her. She could sweat out some of the shame.

She turned her head and caught her reflection in the mirrored wall, jolting when she saw the girl with tearstained cheeks. A girl who’d cried for an hour over a man who thought of her as a dumb little sister, just like everyone else.

Georgie had stuck her business degree diploma in a drawer and become a clown for a reason. Making people laugh and spreading joy made her happy. Especially when it came to children. Perhaps her youngest-sibling status made her relate to little kids more. They were talked down to and dictated to about their wide-eyed naivete, just like her. Whatever the reason for her unusual career path, Georgie adored children and dreamed of having her own someday. Performing at birthday parties and bat mitzvahs never failed to be the highlight of her week.

She adored being a clown. She didn’t appreciate being made to feel like one, though, and it seemed to be happening more and more lately.

The twist in her chest intensified, just in time for Bethany to waltz into the room in a toss of blond hair and a flash of dazzling white teeth. “Hell? Party of two?” She dropped her black Chanel bag in a pile with Georgie’s ancient gym duffel, falling into a perfect stretch beside her younger sister on the floor. Effortlessly glamorous. That was Bethany. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Are you sure? You seem even more depressed than this situation warrants.”

“I said it’s nothing.” Georgie spread her legs in a V and crawled forward, enjoying the vicious tug in her hamstrings. “Shouldn’t the instructor be here first?”

“Changing the subject. Noted.” Bethany poked her in the side. “You have your period?”

“No.”

“Me neither.”

“Why even remark on it?”

Bethany shrugged. “Just making conversation until you tell me what’s wrong. You blow-dried your hair. I know it wasn’t for this shit show.” Bethany leaned into Georgie’s line of sight. “Tell me.”

“Travis didn’t show up to look at my fireplace today!” Georgie exploded, pressing fingers to the ache in her chest. “I don’t know why I expected him to remember. It’s not like it was set in stone. But he remembered brunch when no one else did. I thought . . .”

“Wait. Whoa, whoa. Back up. Travis who? Ford?” Bethany did an exaggerated double take. “What is wrong with your chimney and why is that philandering asshole going anywhere near it?”

“It’s my fireplace, not my chimney—and don’t call him that.”

“Why not? You didn’t go to high school with him, Georgie. He plowed through half the senior class. Before midterms. What happened after graduation is well documented. He more than lived up to the title of philanderer.” Bethany’s love-hate relationship with men showed through in most instances, but apparently hate was edging out love in her post-breakup state of mind. “He’s the one the assholes look up to. I know, because I’ve essentially dated all of his wannabes. It’s going to get even worse now that he’s back in town.” Visibly calming herself, Bethany tilted her head at Georgie. “But I digress. Please tell me why you’re fraternizing with Travis Ford.”

Georgie might regret unburdening herself in front of ballsy ball-breaker Bethany in the morning. Right now, though, the humiliation wouldn’t be contained. “I’ve been in love with him as far back as I can remember. Obviously there’s no chance of him being interested in me like that. I’m not delusional, but he seemed like he needed a friend and so do I. We hung out a few times.” She gave Bethany the sister death glare. “Nothing happened, so please don’t tell Stephen any of this.”

“Ugh. I knew you were going to say that.” Bethany tapped her fingers on her knees. “Really, though. He shouldn’t be sniffing around you in any capacity. Stephen would shit a Cadillac.”

“Everyone seems to think so.”

“Is this . . . Zumba?” asked a soft, hesitant voice from the doorway.

There stood Rosie, Dominic’s wife, thus sealing Georgie’s utter embarrassment. Especially in the face of Rosie’s quiet but stunning beauty. In this garish light, Georgie was a paste monster, whereas the department store perfume girl glowed golden brown. She didn’t even have to wear a sports bra, just one of those spaghetti-strap tanks with a built-in panel that Georgie had always been too self-conscious to try out. Rosie pulled off the abbreviated attire with ease, but as usual, she seemed a little uncomfortable in their company. Possibly because her husband was an employee of their family business. At the annual Brick & Morty picnic, Georgie had exchanged small talk with her—and God knows, rumors of her marriage being on the rocks had reached everyone—but they’d never really had an in-depth conversation. She’d always regretted that. Especially since Rosie seemed to lack confidantes, just like her.