Chapter 25 - James
James
Ever since I got back from my stint on Charlie’s tour, Georgie has been wearing more colorful things—pinks, blues, punchy florals, and bright patterns. She told me she’d finally unpacked all the boxes from her truck and got her clothes laundered.
Up to this point, she’d been stuck mostly wearing the comfy sweats and pajamas I bought her when she was in the hospital and my old T-shirts and sweatshirts.
I hadn’t realized how drab and lifeless the clothes were until she started wearing her old wardrobe.
Although I can’t deny enjoying it when she wears my clothes, I like seeing this colorful version of Georgie, too.
When she strolled into the living room on the morning of our lunch date, I lifted my face toward heaven and thanked my lucky stars that she had unpacked those boxes.
Because the way the pink shirt cocooned her breasts so perfectly, paired with those worn jeans hugging her plump ass and highlighting her curves, was positively sinful.
I wanted to walk her right back into that bedroom and undress her, one stitch of clothing at a time.
But when my eyes traveled lower, and I saw those pink boots on her feet… fuck me, I almost came on the spot remembering how hot she looked pleasuring herself on my bed while wearing nothing but those boots.
Georgie has spoken little about her past relationship with Weston’s father, but her behavior tells me he did a number on her.
Still, since the hospital, she’s made real progress.
She communicates more freely now. She asks for what she needs, like trusting me to watch Weston while she drops off job applications.
And yet, she still holds back. I’ve flirted with her all day, and she’s shut every bit of it down. That woman has walls so high no one will breach them. No one except me because I’m a stubborn bastard, and I won’t give up on her.
After last night, after she asked me to make her feel good, I thought we were finally getting somewhere. But today, it feels like we’ve slipped right back into our usual patterns.
Upon returning home from our lunch date, I went out back to work on the Plymouth I’m restoring. I was making good progress, too, until Georgie burst in, fired up about the hospital bill and the birth certificate. I did those things weeks ago, and to be honest, I kind of forgot about them.
Based on Georgie’s reaction, she’s convinced my place in her and Weston’s lives is fleeting, so I’m going to have to up my game.
I just have to figure out how to prove to her that I’m here to stay—and that I want them to stay, too.
I have an idea, but it’s one I’ll need help with.
So, I send out an SOS in our group chat.
Any ladies available to help a guy out this afternoon?
Hayes
We’re gonna need a shit ton more information before I loan out Annabelle. What kind of help do you need, Dumb?
Not that kind of help, you pervert. I need interior decorating help.
Hayes
In that case, Annabelle is available.
Annabelle
I can speak for myself, Hayes. But yes, I can help you, James.
Can you meet me at Home Depot? It’ll be a quick trip because I’ll have Weston with me.
Bailey
Oh, if Weston’s coming, then I can make it too.
I see where I rank on your list of priorities, B.
Bailey
You’ll always be my second favorite member of Outlaw, James!
#SecondFavorite #SuckItHayes
Hayes
That is still bullshit, B. I deserve to be number two.
B & AB, I’ll meet you at Home Depot in an hour. Cool?
Annabelle
Cool.
Bailey
Cool, cool.
And then as soon as Georgie leaves to drop off job applications, I load Weston back up into the car and drive over to meet Bailey and Annabelle at Home Depot.
“You were rather mysterious over text, so are you going to fill us in on why we’re here, James?”
“I’m going to surprise Georgie with a new nursery for Weston, but I needed some help picking stuff out.”
“And you thought Home Depot was where you should start?” Bailey huffs with a grin.
I shrug. “Uh, yeah. Is it not?”
“We can make it work,” Annabelle replies diplomatically, tugging her phone out of her purse. She starts typing things in and then flashes me a couple of photographs, what she calls inspo images. “What about something like this?”
The first photo features walls the color of linen, white furniture, a fuzzy white rug that looks like a polar bear sacrificed itself for the cause, tan-and-white checked curtains, and framed antique maps on the walls.
And… I lean in for a closer look. Yep, those are antique binoculars arranged on the wall.
Does she think Weston is preparing for an Arctic expedition?
I shake my head. “It’s… too white. And beige.” It’s boring and bland. Nothing like Georgie, who is sparkling and vibrant and full of color.
Those damn pink boots flash through my mind again.
“Okay, how about this one?”
“Nah, it’s too… baseball. Don’t want to pigeonhole the kid into one sport. What if he hates baseball?”
“Okay, next.” Annabelle flicks through a few more photos before finding the next one.
Taking her phone from her hand, I look at this photo. Pursing my lips, I reply, “I think this one could be the winner.”
Bailey, who’s bent over the car seat cooing at Weston, snaps her head up to look at Annabelle’s phone screen. “Oh, yes! I like that one a lot, James. That look will work well with the rest of your house, too.” Then she rubs her hands together with a laugh. “Now, let’s shop!”
While I pick out paint samples, Annabelle and Bailey hover over my phone, picking out furniture and accessories and God knows what else.
Apparently when Annabelle said they can make it work, what she really meant was that they’d shop online.
Every few minutes, one of them tells me to look at my phone so they can use my Face ID to pay for something.
Who the hell knows how high my credit card statement will be this month with these two making the purchases, but whatever the cost, it’ll be worth it if it makes Georgie happy.
“When you get home, you need to measure the height and width of your windows, so we’ll know which curtains to buy, okay?”
“Alright.”
As the girls conspire with one another, I hear phrases I don’t understand. What’s a Roman shade? And a glider? Reeded wood? Imagination station?
“How do you feel about wallpaper, James?”
“Uh, I feel… however you think I should feel about wallpaper.”
“Great answer! If only Rowdy were as amenable as you.” Bailey smiles, patting my arm. “Also, BT-dub, you love wallpaper.”
“Do you think it’ll be too busy to have a patterned wall with patterned curtains and a patterned rug?” Annabelle muses, tapping her finger against her cheek.
“What about solid curtain panels and a patterned wall?”
Annabelle nods slowly. “Could work.” She pauses, eyeing me. “Or what if we color drench the room and add masculine molding to the walls instead of wallpaper?”
I didn’t know molding had a gender.
Turning her gaze to me, she asks, “Does the room get a lot of natural light? We don’t want the nursery to be too dark.”
I scratch my chin and nod. “Yeah, it has two large east-facing windows, so it gets good morning sun.”
“Oh, I like that idea even better than wallpaper!” Bailey squeals. “And we can still bring in pattern through the artwork and textural elements.”
Color drench? Textural elements? I’m so out of my depth.
“Y’all realize Weston is barely two months old, right?”
“Well aware, James.”
“Hey, better yet, why don’t we follow you back to your house so we can see the space in person?” suggests Annabelle.
So, twenty minutes later, we troop through the house to the guest room we’ve used as Weston’s nursery. When I open the door, I’m met with a lackluster response.
“This doesn’t look like a nursery, James. This is a bedroom with a crib stuck in it.”
“I know, Bailey,” I grumble, pinching the bridge of my nose. “That’s why we’re redecorating. To make it into a real nursery.”
“Why are all of Georgie’s things in here?” Annabelle inquires, pointing to where Georgie’s pajamas lie folded on the pillow and her shoes are lined up by the door.
Damn. Hadn’t thought of that when I agreed to show them the room. “Sometimes she likes to fall asleep in here when Weston is fussy, so they don’t bother me.”
“Ah, that’s so sweet and considerate,” Bailey smiles. “I just make Rowdy get up with me when Ava’s fussy. He helped make the baby, so he can help with the baby. That’s my motto.”
“I’ve offered, Bailey, but Georgie likes to do it all herself,” I explain, feeling a little defensive. Especially when Bailey cocks a brow and perches her hand on her hip, less than impressed with my explanation.
“Well, here’s what I think we should do,” Annabelle says, taking the heat off me as she launches into the plans she and Bailey have hatched for the space.
After explaining how the room should be laid out, she turns to stare at the bed.
“Originally, I assumed we’d move the bed out of here, but if Georgie uses it occasionally…
maybe we should switch it out for a daybed?
” Annabelle asks, looking at me for guidance.
I know I’d much rather Georgie sleep in my bed, and if removing the bed from this room helps her come to that decision too, then I’m all for removing the bed.
“Nah, Bailey’s right. Georgie shouldn’t have to deal with the baby by herself at night. Let’s get rid of the bed.”