Sweet Forty-Two(76)

“I need you to, Georgia.” I slid the card across the table, eyeing the already wrinkling and fading edges.

“Why do you need me to?” She didn’t reach for the letter.

“You’ve been really open and honest with me, Georgia, and ... you were there for me, really there when I read the thing. I figured you should know where I’m coming from.” I tapped the envelope. “This is where I’m coming from.”

Her look took on the pallor of guilt as she swaddled the letter after taking it from the envelope. She looked at me once before opening it. I nodded, reassuring her. She paled further as she read. Her eyes brightened at what I assumed were the cute and funny parts Rae had written. Then, it was like I was watching a flashback of myself when I came to the I love you portion of the event ... Georgia’s hand went to her mouth and she dropped the card, looking at me.

“I’m so, so sorry.” She kept her hand hovering over her lips and she fled our booth, exiting the bakery door and taking deep breaths in the fresh air of the quiet Sunday morning.

Carefully, I slid the card back into its envelope, tucked it in my back pocket, savoring the limited time it would reside there, and followed Georgia outside.

“She loved you,” Georgia started as the door closed behind me. “She loved you, and never really said it, and you loved her and never said it, then she died and no one said it and, holy f*ck, Regan.” She paced in circles.

“I—”

“And she died,” Georgia repeated, and as if she were just learning of Rae’s death for the first time, she started to cry.

So did I.

“She did.” I wiped under my eyes.

“How are you standing here? How did you ... what ... shit and then we kissed.” She ran a knuckle under her eye.

“I wanted to kiss you, Georgia. And, you wanted to kiss me ... judging by the way you, you know, kissed me.” I cracked a smile, not fully understanding her meltdown.

She leaned against the building just as it started to drizzle. “I knew you’d been in love, Regan. You told me. Rewiring your insides and all that, but ... why would you want to risk it again?”

“Risk what, love?”

“Losing it,” she whispered as more tears fell.

I shook my head, words jamming in my throat. Insecurity crashed into hope, fear rear-ended happiness. I walked over to Georgia and put my hands on her shoulders. “What if I don’t lose it?”

I had to believe my words. Had to. There was no other way to take another breath. Ever.

“What if you do?” She stared through me, like she was etching an imaginary future into my brain.

I squeezed her shoulders, almost shouting over the fear that tried to drown the words as the rain fell harder around us. Crashing cymbals of water. “What if I do, Georgia? What if I do?”

The wind picked up, directing the rain to slam in sheets against us. Georgia didn’t blink as she met my eyes, water covering every inch of her face.

“I have to go.” She shimmied away from my hold and walked to her car, pulling away without another word.

Thunder crashed as I watched the car pull away. I retraced my steps back into the bakery, locking the door behind me, and turning off the light in the seating area. I couldn’t shake the fear in Georgia’s eyes as she talked about Rae ... and love. Georgia was afraid to love. I was afraid that I’d never love again.

Had been afraid, until that blinding swirl of exclamation points and question marks masquerading as Georgia Hall barged into my life. Or did I barge into hers? How the hell did we get here? Kissing in her kitchen, promising more kisses, then doing nothing about it?

I didn’t know what all her fears were, though she was clearly afraid of them, as odd as it sounds. But she wasn’t a girl who could be pushed.

As I entered my apartment and pulled out my violin and composition notebook, I took a deep breath and reasoned that to love Georgia was to be patient. Let her come to me.

I was loving her.

As I drew my pencil across the lines of the notebook, sculpting the last goodbye to Rae, I didn’t feel apologetic about that. Loving. Rae would want me to love again. Hell, love would want me to love again.

I was falling slowly.

And I didn’t want there to be a bottom, because what greater feeling in the world is there than to actually be falling into love?





Georgia

My windshield wipers whipped too quickly back and forth across the glass as I sped down the highway. The thumping of the rubber took me out of my head, making me listen to something other than my excruciating heart.

I was running away.

Regan loved Rae, she loved him, then every worst thing in the world happened and he showed up at my doorstep. I invited him there, yes, I’m aware of that minute f*cking detail, but there he was. War-torn? No. Faithful. A disciple of all things pure.

I’d been afraid that maybe if he was kissing me it was a rebound thing, but Rae had passed away almost a year ago—9 months, I think—and Regan didn’t even like me when we first met. At least it hadn’t seemed that way.

I slipped. I knew better. I shouldn’t have ever rented him that apartment, but since there was nothing I could do about that by the time I realized what was happening, I should have kept him at a firm arm’s length. Instead I’d had my arms around him exactly one too many times.