16. Georgia-May
16
GEORGIA-MAY
“Coco, what do you want to do now?” I ask, my voice excited as we step out of the hospital. Blake is right by our side, a presence easing the load from my shoulders. I hope he realizes just how much he means to us.
“Duck,” Coco chirps, her eyes sparkling with a child’s simple joy.
When she says the word inside the house, it means bath. But when we’re out and about, it means something different.
“Really? Should we see if Blake’s up for a little adventure?” I gently pinch her cheek and then mouth to Blake, “She wants to feed the ducks.”
Coco gazes at Blake, dramatically tipping her head back. “Black, duck!”
“Absolutely,” Blake responds with a smile. “Let’s head to the park.”
“You sure it’s safe?” I ask, needing that extra bit of reassurance.
“Whatever it takes to celebrate her courage today, I’ll make it happen,” Blake declares, his voice firm with resolve.
As we stroll through the park, the pond ahead is a peaceful scene dotted with ducks that glide across the water. I scatter some breadcrumbs, watching Coco’s delight as the ducks gather eagerly. The rustling of the leaves and distant laughter from other park-goers wrap around us.
The day’s weariness is creeping into my bones, and it must show because Blake soon draws near. “Hey, let me take her for a bit,” he suggests.
Coco, now cradled in Blake’s strong arms, looks up at him and exclaims with a grin, “Raff!”
I laugh. “I think she’s saying you’re tall like a giraffe.”
Blake joins me in laughter. “Want to be even taller?” Without missing a beat, he hoists her onto his shoulders. Coco’s laughter bubbles up, filling the air as she reaches for the sky, perched high above us with Blake’s hands securely behind her like a backrest.
We leave the pond, heading to the other part of the park, Coco riding high on Blake’s shoulders, her excitement infectious. She points at everything from this new, lofty perspective, her joy so vivid it seems to touch everyone around us, drawing smiles from passing strangers.
“Thanks for doing this, Blake,” I say.
“Hey, don’t mention it,” he replies as we keep walking. He clears his throat. “Look, Georgia-May, can we talk?”
It’s a standard line, but the softness in his tone, the seriousness, hints at sentimental concerns, setting my nerves on edge. “Sure.”
As if sensing the shift in mood, I notice Coco, still perched on Blake’s shoulders, has slumped forward, her head resting against his.
“She’s asleep, isn’t she?” Blake murmurs, holding as still as a statue, his eyes lifting in an attempt to see her, but of course, he can’t really check from his angle.
“Yeah,” I answer, touched by the tender scene above me.
He looks almost comical, trying to peer up without moving, fearful of waking her. The way he cares so deeply makes him all the more lovable in this light.
Carefully, Blake lifts Coco from his shoulders and secures her in the pram. We then find a nearby bench, the afternoon sun dimming behind the clouds. It feels like the right moment for whatever Blake has on his mind, with Coco sleeping peacefully nearby, blissfully unaware of the grown-up conversations.
Blake turns to me, his hand still resting on the stroller handle between us.
“So, what’s on your mind?” I nudge, trying to make it easier for him to start.
“Can you hear me out for a bit?” he asks, looking earnest. “Just with an open mind?”
“Of course,” I promise, my tone calming.
He exhales slowly and then starts, “It’s about Flo—Florence.” He pauses, almost hesitant. “She was my first love back in high school. I swore I’d marry her someday, and I did, right after the police academy. She was this amazing baker, you know? Made the most incredible birthday cakes.”
I smile, feeling a tug to just reach over and squeeze his hand to show him he’s not alone. But I resist, letting him have his space.
“My stint as a trooper didn’t last long; it was pretty uneventful, then they decided I might do better playing detective. That was quite the ego boost, being one of the youngest detectives in Alaska,” Blake scoffs. “I was so caught up in the thrill that I even turned down a modeling gig in Paris. Can you believe that?”
I laugh, eyeing him with a playful skepticism. “Really? Giving up a life of champagne and runway shows? That’s a sacrifice!” But really, it’s no surprise his impossibly stunning face caught the attention of a scout.
He grins, shrugging nonchalantly. “Yeah, well, Flo was more disappointed than I was. But me? Modeling? That’s a world of empty promises. You might end up just posing for some catalog in a dingy studio. Plus, parading around in tighty-whities isn’t exactly my style.”
Imagining Blake in a minimalist chic photoshoot, perhaps clad in a pair of super snug Calvins, I can’t help but feel a quivering heat spreading through me.
He shoots me a look, half-amused, half-warning, clearly not eager to wander down the underwear discussion path any further.
“Anyway,” he says. “First, we moved from Seward to Anchorage, but soon, that wasn’t enough for me. One of my buddies had moved to California, and he wouldn’t stop talking it up. How being a PI there was the gig of a lifetime. Always in demand, good pay, the works. But Flo, she didn’t want to move, so I stayed for her sake.”
He pauses, his gaze distant as if visualizing the past. “Yet my career in the Anchorage PD was as stale as day-old bread. I was in my late twenties, finally hitting my stride, finding ambitions I didn’t know I had. I wanted more, but I held back, all for her. It drove a wedge between us. I buried myself in work, took on more cases than I could handle, was hardly ever home.”
I catch the shift in his tone and brace myself for what’s coming.
“And right under my nose, she had an affair with my neighbor,” Blake admits, his voice dropping to a near whisper.
“Oh, Blake…that’s awful,” I respond, unable to mask my shock. He asked me to keep an open mind, but infidelity? There’s just no bright side to that. It’s simply heartbreaking.
He looks away, a shadow crossing his features. “This is how much I trust you, Georgia-May. No one alive on this planet knows about it except me.”
“You’re safe with me, Blake. You have my word.”
He scoffs lightly. “Rob and Clay say I’m a one-woman man. Sounds noble, right? But they don’t know the real story. I’ve shielded her from judgment. Flo strayed because I couldn’t give her what she wanted, what she needed. Please don’t hold it against her.”
I shake my head, unable to hold back my words. “I’m sorry, Blake, and I swear your secret’s safe with me. But honesty matters to me too much. If I vowed to be faithful to someone, nothing would make me stray.”
He mellows with a reluctant understanding. “I see your integrity, Georgia-May, and that’s why I trust you.” He shifts in his seat, angling toward me, slightly closer. “But we’re all different. Flo and I, we tried, really tried, to find common ground. Love is complicated, messy. I’ve come to believe it was my fault she found comfort elsewhere.”
I exhale, staring at the ground for a moment. There are so many things I want to say, responses and reassurances bubbling up inside me, but I hold them back. This is his time to speak, and I will have my moment later.
He goes on. “But we got over it. We even started talking about starting a family, and I left my detective gig to work as a local PI. It wasn’t as fancy as mixing with Hollywood’s elite, but it paid well. We managed to upgrade our place. You know, add a few more rooms for our future kids, perhaps build a treehouse one day.”
His face lights up the same way when he’s around Coco. Right there, I see him as a family guy who’s always been tough on himself.
He goes on. “Then, this job came up in California. Just one case. I couldn’t pass it up. It was for my buddy. He really needed my help. I begged her to let me go.”
He pauses, looking down at his lap for a moment.
Glancing skyward, he adds, “I went against her wishes. The morning I left was the last time I saw her alive.”
He sighs and turns to face me. For the first time, I catch the raw openness in his eyes. I’m still struck by how similar our shades of gray are, but his? They hint at a treacherous landscape, one I might regret venturing into. But it’s too late.
Undeterred by any caution, I meet his gaze, watching as he lays bare the terrain underneath. It’s like he’s handing me a map, inviting me to explore the contours of his heart. His expression is sincere and unguarded. As he starts to speak, he offers more than just a glimpse into his feelings, beginning with, “It all started with a promise of ‘just this once.’”