The Arrangement

34. Georgia

Chapter 34

Georgia

I hadn’t been this nervous since we started filming. Sebastian and I haven’t spoken for the past five days, not since we had slept together, in both the biblical sense and literal sense. So unless he was transferring money from our profits into my account, I hadn’t heard from him. Sometimes I would listen to the front door opening from the foyer and I would stand like I was going to run out into the cold entryway and tell him how sorry I was. To throw my arms around him. But I didn’t. I stayed, my hand touching the cold metal of my door knob, and listened to the familiar sound of Unit 2 entering his home.

I felt…empty. Hollow. And so unimaginably angry at myself. I rotated between self-deprecation and remorse, and the sinking depression that it would’ve never worked out anyway.

So when my phone pinged Thursday evening, it took me a moment to actually look at the notification, because deep down I knew who it was.

Sebastian: Still want to film tomorrow?

Me: Sure, if you want to.

Sebastian: Never said I didn’t, Clark. I’m down if you are.

I swallowed hard around my rising guilt. I had hurt him. And it was killing me. But it was for the best, I knew it was.

Me: I’ll see you at nine tomorrow.

Sebastian: Cool.

That was it. No wisecracks, no stupid jokes. Honestly, this was worse than not talking to him at all.

I didn’t know why I’d spent extra time doing my hair and makeup this time. I never did before. But before, I didn’t have dark smudges underneath my eyes or the beginning of a stress breakout on my forehead just out of reach of the covering flow of my bangs.

Attempting to hype myself up, I put on some music from my favorite popstar but what started as girl power pop-rock turned into sentimental breakup songs that had me sniffing back tears as I curled my hair. This was stupid; it was one night. One night that we’d slept together without it being for his internet fan base, and I had been reduced to this. This was exactly why I didn’t do relationships, because this was always the outcome. The small voice in the back of my head reminded me that it had, in fact, been I who had freaked out after our little tryst in the hotel, not him.

It didn’t matter; I walked over to his unit clad in my oversized sweater and sweatpants, shivering against the autumnal chill that gripped the barely insulated breezeway.

Shaking my head as if it would magically change my melancholy, I stood straighter and knocked on the door. And knocked again.

Usually, it would swing open to reveal a partly prepared Sebastian who smelled like his bergamot body wash, with his stupid crooked smile and the stupid dimple it created. But this time, when the door finally opened Sebastian, stood in his hoodie with the dark shadow of facial hair and a dull look in his eye.

“Hey, I’m nearly ready, give me just a second.” Sebastian left the door open and I followed inside, the icy reception causing more of a chill than the cold of the November night. He had positioned the camera equipment in the kitchen this time, though all of his personal effects and appliances had been put away, giving it a model house vibe instead of the cozy kitchen I had cut his birthday cake in.

“We moving it to the kitchen?” I called, hearing the rushing water from his bathroom.

“Yeah,” he called back, brushing his teeth from the sound of it. “Thought we could switch it up, you know. Eating out kind of deal.”

I let myself smile a bit, “Clever.” He didn’t respond and I shucked my clothes into a pile near the door, unpinning my brown hair from the claw clip and letting it fall to my shoulder blades. An outfit I had ordered over a week ago had finally come in; an outfit I had once been excited to show off now made me feel self-conscious. It was a black top that was so short it showed just the right amount of swell from the bottom of my breasts without revealing my nipples unless I raised my arms, and the bottoms looked like something out of the 80s with the band hugging high on my hips.

I decided not to wait for Sebastian and fastened the lace mask over my eyes, clipping it in place with two pins.I saw two two manila envelopes on his usually ridiculously tidy living room, stuffed with what looked like financial reports, but any curiosity I had toward them vanished when I heard a soft,

“Wow.”

I looked up quickly to see Sebastian standing in the hallway shirtless and in plain black briefs that hugged every part of him, his mask wadded up in his hand as he stared at me.

“Oh, thanks. It just came in,” I forced out, my mouth dry as his honey-colored eyes lazily looked me over in undeniable appreciation.

He cleared his throat, throwing on his mask and as he did so, Sebastian became Wolfe. “Want to start with you on the counter?”

I nodded, giving him a wide berth as I walked around him to the marble island where the camera was pointed. I had begun to try to hop up on the high surface, but before I knew it Sebastian’s strong hands were on my hips and placing me there gently. I didn’t miss the way his touch lingered just a moment too long as he pulled away.

“You ready?” he asked, turning his back to me and switching on the cameras that surrounded us and the harsh light stage light popped on overhead.

“Yeah, I’m good. Green.”

Sebastian nodded, taking a deep breath before stalking toward me, his entire body bathed in an overhead light that only eventuated the bulk of his muscles that stretched across golden skin. I licked my lips as I gripped the edge of the kitchen island until my knuckles turned white. Everything else seemed to fall away as he moved toward me, my legs immediately falling open to allow him entrance as they bracketed around him. God, he was so beautiful.

Sebastian or Wolfe—whatever—took my chin in his hand and forced me to look at him. “You going to be good for me, Lace?” His voice was deeper, another signal that told me he was deep in his persona. I nodded, biting my lower lip and hoping that the red lipstick I had put on would hold up.

“Say it,” Wolfe commanded, his tone hard, yet arousal gripped me. My core tightened as his other hand locked around my hip, pulling me across the cold marble until I was flush against him.

“I’ll be good, Wolfe,” I replied, breathless and panting already. But I didn’t see the crinkle of smile lines near his eyes this time like usual; the energy was different this time. Not dangerous; he would never hurt me ever, and I knew that. But it felt somber.

“You look so good for me,” Wolfe grunted, running his big hands down my front to pinch my nipples underneath my barely-there shirt. I gasped and ground against the sizable bulge growing in his briefs, his fingers dancing down my ribs to the front of my soaked panties. “So ready for me, good thing I am starving.”

It was cheesy but I moaned nonetheless and before I knew it, he was pressing me back to lay on the counter as he pulled me to the very edge baring my pussy to him.

“Fuck,” I panted as he gently rubbed over the wet material, the pressure driving me crazy with need.It was like no matter what tornado of feelings were tearing through my heart and mind, my body craved him. Reacted to him like it had never done with any other.

“Colors?” He whispered, not touching when he asked.

“Green,” I swallowed, canting my hips up as if begging for more. Apparently, that was all the go-ahead he needed as he pushed the underwear to the side and licked a broad strip before circling my swollen clit with his tongue.

Wolfe wasn’t eating me out, he was feasting on me and I could barely hold on to my self-control as every nip, suck and moan went straight to my core.

It wasn’t until I felt his fingers pushing inside of me as he flattened his tongue against my sex and I whispered, “I’m going to come!”

A rumble from between my legs as Wolfe growled in his baritone voice, “Not until I say you do.” I was instantly catapulted back to the hotel room, to when Sebastian was deep inside of me as I writhed underneath him.

“Who are you going to come for?”

“For you, Sebastian.”

And just like that, everything came crashing around me and I stiffened. I could feel Wolfe’s tongue on me and his fingers sliding in and out but it no longer made my toes curl.It was like icy water had been thrown over me and my arousal disappeared.

“Stop,” I panted, so softly I barely heard it and with a crack in my voice I cried, “Red, Sebastian, red!” The mood shifted immediately, and without a word, Sebastian was off of me and the usual apartment lights flipped on. I sat up, the cold marble against my exposed skin unyielding but grounding me as I caught my breath.

Sebastian had his mask off and his eyes were filled with worry and apprehension. “Are you okay?” he asked gently before handing me a water bottle from the fridge.

I took it but didn’t drink it, instead hopping off the counter and tearing off my mask. “I can’t do this, Quinn.” Silence descended on us as Sebastian set his mask down, his full attention on me.

“Do what?”

I threw my arms up. “This!” I gestured to the lights, the cameras, and the mask I still had clenched in my shaking hands. “You! I can’t do it.”

Sebastian was rigid, his eyes barely blinking as he observed me. “Why?”

I choked back a sob as I turned around to pull out my pants from my bag. “I can’t, please don’t make me say it.”

“Yeah, okay.”

I stiffened at the words, though I had no right to. “Just okay?”

Sebastian looked at me incredulously. “What do you want me to say, Clark?” I didn’t know, or I did know but I didn’t know how to verbalize it. I didn’t know how to give it a name.

“I don’t know,” I whispered back, my eyes filling with tears. “I don’t know and I’m sorry.”

Pulling my bag over my shoulder, I took a step in the direction of the front door when Sebastian exclaimed, “Or maybe you do know, and you’re just too chicken to say it.”

That had me spinning around, my tear-glazed eyes looking at him up and down, “You don’t get to say that to me.”

Sebastian placed his hands on the kitchen island, the same golden eyes I had fallen for now glaring at me mercilessly with never-ending waves of hurt. “And you don’t get to just walk away and expect me not to fight for it.”

“There's nothing to fight for, Quinn.”

In a brief moment of anger, Sebastian slapped the countertops. “That's bullshit and you know it. You’re just scared! There is something here. Something between us.”

I straightened at the word. “I am not scared, Sebastian Quinn.” My bottom lip was quivering and I hated it. “What’s between us is sex. It was just supposed to be sex!”

“Yeah, well it isn’t now!” Sebastian cried out, the small vein across his forehead pulsing at the explosion of emotion.

A sob rose in the back of my throat at the ache that blossomed in my chest at the pain in Sebastian’s eyes as his whole body leaned towards me, but he held himself back. As if the only thing separating us was the kitchen counter and not the weight of my rejection.

“I can’t do this,” I muttered as I turned to the exit, my hand touching the cold metal of the doorknob.

“Can’t or won’t?” Softer this time, more hesitant like he didn’t want to know the answer. I didn’t turn back to see him, because I knew if I did it would break me. “Do you really not want me, Georgia?”

“It doesn’t matter what I want.” And with that, with my heart breaking, I left.

The drive to the Morning View Assisted Living was filled with silence; no radio, no music. Just the depths of the stillness that seemed to pour from my broken heart as I drove. I couldn't seem to swallow around the lump in my throat; the twisting of my stomach hadn't ceased since the morning Sebastian left. Deep down, I knew it was I who had abandoned him.

The self-fulfilling prophecy of my own making; you couldn't get let down if you left before they enviably did. As I parked, the burning in my eyes made it hard to see, so I dug the heels of my hands into them, breathing a deep, shuddering breath as I willed the tears to pass.

I cleared my throat, remembering that this was what I had wanted to do for so long. I was finally able to pay off a whole year of care for my grandma. No matter what happened with my job or my future, she would have sustainable care for at least a year while I got my life together.

With a deep, shuddering breath, I blinked back any threatening tears as I exited the car, thankful for the biting wind. It was an easy explanation for the redness around my nose and eyes.

"Georgia! Good to see you!" greeted Abbey, sitting at the front desk and passing me the clipboard to sign in.

I forced a smile as I signed my name. "Can I go ahead and pay for my grandma's care today?" I asked as I passed her the clipboard and the new debit card that I used specifically for my side job.

Abbey grinned. "Yeah, of course! How much do you want to pay today?"

I looked around, suddenly afraid to be overheard, as I replied, "All of it, until next January."

Abbey's fingers paused over the keyboard, her eyebrows raising. She knew more than anyone how much I was struggling to pay for her care. She was one of my advocates in the financial center and had set me up on a payment plan more than once.

Smiling, I leaned on the counter, trying to come off as nonchalant. "An uncle came through for me. Wanted to help." Shrugging, I rolled my eyes, hoping that I looked convincing. "Guilt is a powerful motivator sometimes."

Abbey looked somewhat pacified as she grinned, "Don't I know it? It's insane how people will spend a fortune on the care of the sick when they weren't ever in their life when they were healthy. Just satisfies the guilt, I think." She paused, fingers hovering over the keyboard. "I think people just assume they have all the time in the world, and before they know it, it's over. And it all kind of comes rushing back to them, the missed calls, the times when they should have hugged. That last fight."

I nodded, unable to respond as the tears threatened to make a reappearance. Not speaking, I held my breath as Abbey typed in my card number. Realistically, I knew the funds were there. I had checked them that morning, and there it had been, the five-digit amount filled with more zeros than I had seen in my own account in…well, ever.

I heard the hum of a printer as Abbey smiled and handed me back my bank card. "All taken care of. Good job, I know it's been hard."

For the first time in days, my smile wasn't forced. "Thanks, Abbey, really." When I got to my grandmother's suite, I felt lighter than I had in months; like a weight had been lifted off of my shoulders, like I could breathe.

I knocked, waiting for my grandmother's trademark "Oh, just come in already," and entered with a grin on my face.

"Well, good morning!" she exclaimed; it was earlier, but she looked as though she had been up for hours, a puzzle already half completed on the dining room table and the soft droning of an audiobook filing the cozy space. Grandma was smiling at me before her lips formed a tight line, and her eyes narrowed as she pushed herself out of the chair. Before I knew what was happening, she had crossed the distance between us and wrapped her arms around me; I immediately fell into her embrace, the smell of cinnamon and apples enveloping me.

"What's wrong?" she whispered, her voice soft and comforting as I exploded into sobs. I couldn't help it any longer. I never could around her; my grandmother knew everything about me and always had a sixth sense when something was wrong. I could never hide anything from her.

"I messed up. I messed up so badly," I wept, pulling away as I realized I was soaking her cardigan with my tears. My grandmother guided me to the sofa, where she sat down next to me, never letting go of my hands.

She didn't say anything, and she never needed to. My grandmother had the aura of a healer, that maternal instinct that seemed to radiate calm and protection. It wasn't long until I was spilling my secrets, laying my broken heart out in front of me.

"I let him go. I didn't want to, but I couldn't. I just couldn't," I hiccuped as I dug my heels into my eyes, bidding the tears to cease as sobs wracked my body. "It was just too much, grandma."

An aged hand took mine, rubbing small circles into the back of my trembling hand. "What was too much?"

Choking back another cry, I pressed my palm to my chest as if the gesture could somehow relay the bubbling emotions rising from me.

"I thought it would be better if I pretended it didn't happen," I spilled, not really answering her question. "But it hurts so bad, I feel like I'm dying, and it makes no sense. Nothing makes sense. I've never felt like this before. It's terrible, and it won't go away."

My grandmother took a deep sigh, her eyes sad and understanding. "Who's the boy, Georgia?"

I choked out a laugh, shaking my head and pressing back my hair from my eyes."I shouldn't, Grandma, it's not a good idea. It could go so wrong."

My grandmother tsked and shook her head, "Georgia, relationships could always go wrong. But denying them before they even have a chance to prove themselves? My girl, what kind of life is that?"

Wiping my nose on the sleeve of my shirt, I shrugged. "A safe one." I felt her fingers on my hair, smoothing down the frizzed ends that had escaped my hasty braid.

"You carry the weight of the world on your shoulders," she murmured, her voice sad. "You have always cared for everyone else around you, even me, as much as I tried to make sure that never happened." My grandmother raised a finger as I opened my mouth to protest. "It's true. And if you found someone to help take some of that burden off? To love you? It's worth everything, Georgia."

She had a far-off look in her eyes as she smiled softly. "Your grandfather and I hated each other at first; he was such a show-off. Taller than anyone else at school and a jock, such an ego on that one." A sad look passed over her as I watched her, deep in the past, as she spoke. "But when my father died, I wasn't at school for a few days, which was very unlike me. He showed up in his flashy red car and knocked at my door, offering me a ride to school. I don't think I left his side after that."

I glanced down at the hand that was still grasping mine, seeing the simple gold wedding band with a small diamond affixed in the center. The wedding ring she never took off, and under the thick cardigan, I knew she wore my grandfather's wedding ring on a simple gold chain. When I asked why she wore it when I was younger, she would just pat the space on her chest where it lay and say, "To keep him close to my heart."

Even when I had grown up, met Dylan, and lived with him, I couldn't understand the love that passed between my grandmother and grandfather. Sure, I’d loved Dylan. He was a good person, soft and sweet. Reliable. But that was it, and there was no fire. Not even in the beginning. It was safe, love, but in the end, safe hadn't been enough for either of us. Love like my grandparents had shared was one of those once in a lifetime things, an exception not a rule.

Sebastian didn't feel safe at first. He felt dangerous, like touching fire. I had to draw back before I got burned. But as I got to know him, really know him, he didn't feel dangerous anymore. He wasn’t fire, he was warmth. It was like peeling back layers of him, the muscular, sarcastic know-it-all that he presented to the world versus the man that would wake up early to surprise me with a new car so mine didn’t inevitably explode on the highway.

A man who would bring me food when he thought I was eating too much peanut butter and jelly—a man who would let a near stranger enter his house naked and freezing to use his shower.

It was sinking in, slowly and all at once.

Sebastian Wolfe Quinn wasn’t danger and fire. He was warmth and home. He was everything .

I wasn't sure about the face that I was making, but it made my grandmother smile and squeeze my hand. "You are practical and smart, Georgia. And those are good things. But sometimes, you have to make a choice, to take a chance. We only have one life, and if I hadn't taken a chance on your grandfather, I wouldn't have you. Every choice in my life has brought me to where I am, and I wouldn't change it for the world."

I didn't even realize what I was doing when I got home, dropping my bag on the floor with abandon and pausing only to fill up Hannah's food and water and scratch her soft head as I passed her. My laptop lay underneath a pile of old mail, which I let scatter to the floor as I collapsed on the couch.

The blank document lay before me, the blinking of the text bar goading me on once again, taunting me to finish the line. The chapter. The goddamn book.

It seized me, all of the emotions that had been piling up, and I allowed them to breathe, to spill over and through me as I typed. I didn't stop; I couldn't, not when my heart was breaking and beating and healing all at once as I allowed myself to feel.

It was horrible; it was therapeutic. It was the depth of my soul crying out as I poured everything thought, every muffled sob and tear into another fictional person. Passing my trauma and my pain onto a person of my own design, with different hair, a different name in a different world. But she was me, and all of the passion and fire that I had been missing in my novel suddenly wasn't something I was having to manufacture.

For so long, I hadn't allowed myself to feel; I had buried it so deeply because if I didn't let it breathe, then it didn't exist.

But now, with my permission, it was free.

So I wrote and wrote. I didn't sleep; I grabbed a granola bar when my hands began to tremble over the keyboard. But I didn't stop. I couldn't stop.