32. Georgia
Chapter 32
Georgia
S ebastian left before I could get a word out. Which I supposed I deserved. The panic that fell through me after waking was still gripping my heart. What had we done? What we’d had until now had been perfect: good sex, good money. And that was all I wanted. It was just a stupid crush, and now I had gone and ruined it.
Sinking into the cheap hotel chair, I tried hard to hold back the wave of emotions that came crashing in on me as soon as that door clicked shut. It still smelled like him, the tousled bed holding the lingering evidence of what we had done last night.
I swore I could still feel his hands on me and hear the soft noises he’d made while his fingers were buried in my hair. The feeling of him was so deep inside of me that it was like we had merged into one person altogether. And I’d let that go.
All because I was scared.
Shaking my head, I took a deep, shaking breath before wiping away errant tears. It would never work. This was for the best. I was at no place in my life to be in a relationship, especially with Sebastian Quinn.I would just let him down. Or he would let me down. Either way, we would end up hurt .
My phone came to life with a text message from Sarah, a welcome distraction to the whirling thoughts in my head.
Sarah: Hey! It'll just be us for brunch today, Fletch had to be at work.
I inwardly thanked whatever gods were looking out for me today, because the thought of putting on a happy face in front of some guy I barely knew was too much to stomach. I had to be happy and cheerful and ready to celebrate Sarah. She deserved it.
Me: No big deal! See you downstairs!
The hot shower did nothing for my spirits, nor did it shake the chill that had seemed to settle under my skin. I had a missed call from Emma, but I would call her after brunch. It was probably just for my work schedule this week, anyway. I didn't want to keep Sarah waiting any longer, especially since Fletcher wasn't there to buffer my absence. My hair was a mess, but I was able to pull it up a bit before tossing on some concealer beneath the dark circles underneath my eyes.
Brunch tasted like ash in my mouth. However, I smiled and drank not just one but two mimosas and probably would have grabbed a third if Sarah hadn't looked at me oddly over her omelet.
"You okay, Georgia?" Her blue eyes flickered to my barely touched plate of oatmeal, the cheapest thing on the menu. "You hardly ever drink."
Shrugging my shoulders, I mixed some brown sugar into the tasteless oats with a smile. "We're celebrating; it's okay once in a while, you know." Pressing my own emotional baggage deep down within me, I forced a smile before asking suggestively, "So…how was last night with Fletcher?"
Sarah's face blushed a red that touched the tip of her ears as she took a sip of her mimosa. "It was…amazing." Looking around to make sure no one was paying attention to us, she leaned forward to whisper, "We didn't even have sex. We just sat up and talked all night."
I drew back; they had been all over each other at the bar, and they hadn't even slept together. "You guys were practically tongue-fucking on the dance floor, and you had a hotel room together!"
I dodged the judgmental look of an older woman who had apparently heard my remark, so I quickly jammed a spoon full of oatmeal in my mouth to look unsuspecting.
Sarah shook her head. "I know! It was…I don't know, nice? We made out and slept in the same bed, but he said he didn't feel right about us sleeping together for the first time when we’d both had a lot to drink."
My personal opinion of Thomas Fletcher jumped a few notches at her revelation. "Well, kudos to Mr. Fletcher, then."
Sarah raised her glass in a mock salute before taking a sip. "An orgasm would've been nice, though."
The older lady gasped this time, and we quickly dove into our meals, trying to make quick work of it. By the time the check came and I argued with Sarah for it (it was her birthday brunch—there was no way she was paying for it, especially when I had over fifteen grand in my bank account), she finally broached the topic I had carefully steered away from the entire morning.
"Sorry you had to room with Sebastian. I hope it wasn't awkward," Sarah winced, looking apologetic as she finished the rest of her drink.
I shook my head, not meeting her eye as I placed my utensils in my bowl in preparation to leave. "No, not at all. He was the perfect gentleman."
Sarah opened her mouth for a more thorough answer, but a familiar face sitting at the bar caught my eye.
"Isn't that your regular? Cheryl or whatever?" The woman's close-cropped hair looked like it had been cut recently, but it was definitely her.
Sarah barely looked in the direction of the woman before shrugging, "Oh yeah, it does look like her."
I made a face. "It's obviously her."
Sarah rolled her eyes. “So I couldn’t help but notice tall, dark and handsome Sebastian staring at you all night. ”
I shrugged, pushing around my oatmeal that had suddenly lost its flavor. “It’s nothing, Sarah, he’s just my neighbor.”
Sarah choked back a laugh. “Well, your neighbor looks like he’s got it bad for you.” I could feel her eyes on me as she waited for a response, but I took a sip of my mimosa instead. “Georgia, when was the last time you had a relationship or even got laid?”
I threw back my head. “Sarah, I don’t need a relationship to be happy!” Sarah’s eyebrows pushed together before straightening the salt and pepper shakers in the middle of the table.
“And are you?” she asked softly, looking at me below her thick eyelashes.
“Am I what?”
“Happy?”
I opened my mouth. And then I closed it. Then I cleared my throat. “I don’t need a man to be happy. I am happy. I can take care of things myself, I don’t need anyone else to do it!”
I sighed as Sarah sat back, crossing her arms while regarding me with an annoying look of self satisfaction on her heart shaped face.
“Georgia, you can take care of things. You are. But Jesus, aren’t you exhausted?”
This time I looked at her confused. “Why would I be exhausted?”
Sarah rolled her eyes as if what she was about to say was beyond common sense. “You stayed in a two year long loveless relationship because you didn’t want to hurt someone's feelings. Admit it.”
I took another drink from my flute, my mouth suddenly dry and the heavily poured mimosa just serving to burn it further.
“It just didn’t seem right to break up with him; he was a good guy,” I replied, the thought of Dylan flashing through my head quickly with no emotion attached. The thought of him brought up the same feelings as seeing my usual pharmacist or grocer. Nice, but nothing more.
My friend leaned forward, taking my hand in hers. I prickled at the touch; as much as I loved her, physical intimacy always felt a little weird to me, and no, I did not want to bring that up in therapy, thank you very much.
“Your happiness didn’t give you that, right? You stayed because it felt better to you to make sure someone else was happy over your own wants and needs.” She sighed, leaning back and taking her own glass. “I didn’t say slash his tires and ruin his credit score, I am just saying it’s not selfish to think about yourself.”
Pushing my oatmeal away from me, I wrapped my arms around myself. “I have my grandmother to think about.”
“I’ve met your grandmother, and I know for a fact she would be devastated to know that you put your life and happiness on hold to care for her.” Sarah paused, her eyebrow ticking up for a moment. “Life is too short not to go after what we want. Maybe, just maybe Georgia Clark, you could let someone take care of you for once.”
I opened my mouth but closed it tightly as the waiter came to gather our items, and we left. The car was warm, and she had seat heaters, so I was nearly lulled into a nap as Sarah pushed on a podcast. We drove home in near silence. I feigned a slight headache so she wouldn't think I was upset or acting weird, because I wasn't.And I wasn’t quiet because I was thinking about if I was happy or not. Or that the last time I did feel happy was around Sebastian. Or the bookstore. Or my grandmother. But Sebastian? Fuck, he was becoming part of it, and I didn’t know how to process that.
I shut my eyes tightly, pushing back the burning sensation behind my eyelids when I remembered his hurt expression. The way the hurt had morphed into an emotionless mask as he left the hotel room. Because I fucked up. Because the thought of being really vulnerable with someone made me panic, made me want to run. This was just supposed to be a distraction, a stupid way to make money and fuck the guy I had been daydreaming about for the last year and a half.
Blowing out a breath, I dodged Sarah’s glance and pushed on some sunglasses.
I was fine. I was just fine.
It was late evening when I returned home, greeted enthusiastically by Hannah winding herself around my ankles as I tried not to step on her before scooping her up in my arms. All I wanted to do was take a hot bath and crawl into bed, but no. Tonight was restock night at the coffee shop, and it was the last thing I wanted to do.
But I remembered my plan: get Grandma's housing paid for a calendar year. Get completely caught up on bills and actually have a savings account like an adult.
I swallowed hard around the lump in my throat as I thought about Sebastian. No, no, we could still make this work. It was a stupid mistake, a lapse in judgment. I couldn't even blame alcohol because we’d been barely buzzed by the time we got back to the hotel room. I remembered everything in graphic, full-color detail. And it made it all the worse.
Shaking my head to clear my thoughts, I wrapped my old wool coat around me and walked out to my car. The stupid bow was still in the backseat, just another reminder of that stupid man again—that stupid, beautiful, kind man.
Jerking the wheel harder than necessary, I pulled out of the parking lot and onto the road; the evening was a brilliant spray of golds and purples as the sun made its way behind the buildings, but I saw none of it behind the veil of tears I sniffed back.
"Fuck, this is stupid," I whispered to myself. How long had it been since I’d cried over a boy? How long had it been since I’d cried at all?
I was stronger than this. It was all just a distraction. So I swallowed the hurt and the sorrow like I had trained myself to do when I was younger. When my father yelled, his face was red, and spit flew from his mouth. I remembered it so vividly: I pushed into a corner as a much larger and older man yelled at me for dropping my plastic cup of milk. That's when I learned that crying helps no one. And that no one comes to save you.
Except for my grandma: she saved me. And I would rather lose everything than allow that woman to lose the comfortable living she has now.
To this day, I couldn't help but push down the panic when a man screamed or raised his voice. My instincts were constantly on guard, and my expectations were low.
It was better that way, because I refused to become my mother.
A sharp beep behind me reminded me I was still at a red light, my gaze unfocused and looking past the road into nothing. Jerking out of my reverie, I pulled into the coffee shop's employee parking lot behind the shop, the dark alcove dimly lit by a single streetlight.
All but running into the tiny shop, I was immediately greeted by the lingering smell of roasted coffee beans and vanilla scones. It was therapeutic in a way, stocking the shelves and sweeping the floors. My hands knew how to do this work on autopilot, and it gave my brain a break. I clocked in and out in a haze, my eyes still blurry as I pressed back the tears that threatened to fall.
Fuck.
I’d fucked it all up.
I'd never had a one-night stand or a casual thing; how was I supposed to know that I would catch feelings for him? Especially him! Sure, he was hot, but that wasn't everything. Sebastian Quinn was rich, loud, and annoying. But he was also kind, an extremely giving person in and out of the bedroom.
Our time together had made him into a three-dimensional person, not just the pompous ass I’d known in school who drove a car nicer than most adults I knew. I wished desperately that I could go back to not thinking of him as a regular person, but just as my asshole neighbor—someone to simply pass in the hallway and, once in a while, grab my packages. Or fix my water. Or let me use his shower. Or maybe give me the most mind-blowing orgasm I’d ever had in my life.
It was like something snapped within me, and I was out of the coffee shop, the cold air hitting my face and stinging my streaming eyes as I locked the door behind me. I felt like I couldn’t breathe, like something had broken inside of me. Ideally, I would’ve gone to my car, but a man was passing through the parking lot; the only thing visible about him was the red dot of a lit cigarette hanging from his fingers as he whistled a low tune.
Immediately, I turned into the bookstore, the two doors being side by side, and locked myself in. The familiar warmth of my favorite place washed over me, and everything happened at once. The tears that had started in the coffee shop trailed down my face as I tried unsuccessfully to reign in my sobs.
It wasn’t until I saw the sign hanging in the window that I paused. Its back was toward me, the red letters illuminated backwards in the streetlights.
“No. No. No ,” I stammered as I stumbled to the door and ripped the sign from the tape that held it there.
For Sale by Owner. Inquire within.
The sign fell from my hands and onto the ground. Everything was falling apart around me. I had ruined everything with Sebastian, and now I wouldn’t even have a job. I hadn’t finished my novel, and I could barely keep a roof over my grandmother’s head without fucking for money. I had a worthless degree that was gathering dust while I paid on it monthly, the final balance never changing despite the thousands of dollars I poured into it.
Tipping my head up, I made myself glance up towards the loft. The string lights cast a gentle glow over the carefully curated bookshelves that I used to curl up under on my breaks, where Sebastian had pushed my favorite book into my hand while he took apart my body one orgasm at a time.
It was where I knew I had messed up, seeing his messy black hair under those stupid lights in my bookstore with his face buried between my thighs. I knew then. I fucking knew then, and I still was too weak to resist it. To resist him. Because I knew then that I was falling for him.
The words drifted through my mind as quickly as I pushed them back. I didn’t have time for Sebastian. I didn’t have time to mourn, and I definitely didn’t have time for love.
I was fine.