Chapter 37 #2
“Yes, just a few months. I’m looking for a new place, and I’m hoping I can find something in the area.”
“Oh, talk to Ruthie and Sally. I’m pretty sure they’ll know if anything’s vacant.
Lester has a small apartment on his property that Tillie lived in for a short time.
It’s at the far end of Aron Falls, close to Elladine.
Everyone there is nice too, if you don’t mind driving a bit to get here for work. ”
“That’s where I live,” Lizzie adds.
Georgie looks over at her. “But not for long, because I’m trying to convince her to move to Aron Falls.”
“You know I hate moving,” Lizzie says. “Plus, it’s… complicated.”
“Yeah, I know, but—” A concerned frown on Georgie’s face for a few seconds, but then, she glances down at the table for a second. “I’m sorry. I said I wouldn’t push, and tonight is about fun things only.”
“God knows I could use some fun,” Lizzie says. Her words come out lighter, but they sound forced. I suspect she’s trying to turn the vibe of the conversation around.
Desperate to help her achieve that, I change the subject.
“How do you know each other?”
Georgie looks at Lizzie and grins. “Lizzie is my proofreader.”
“Georgie is a novelist.” A gentle smile that reaches her eyes unfolds as Lizzie looks at her friend with pride.
Georgie rolls her eyes. “I write books—romances with a little steam. The word novelist sounds, I don’t know, but it doesn’t fit me.”
“Wow, color me impressed,” I say. “How many books have you written?”
Georgie’s cheeks turn pink. “Um…” She pauses and turns her gaze upward, moving her mouth like she’s silently counting. Her eyes go wide for a second, then she peers at me. “I think thirty-eight.”
“Oh, my God! You’re definitely a novelist. And if you don’t like that word, you have to at least acknowledge you’re an author.” I grin at the woman, impressed as hell.
“I’m indie published,” Georgie adds. She says it like that changes that she’s written and published thirty-eight freaking books.
Lizzie huffs. “I don’t know how many times I have to tell you, but that just means you’re a publisher, a businesswoman, and a novelist.” Lizzie turns her head to peer at me.
“As an indie, she’s responsible for finding and setting up proofreaders, editors, cover artists, uploading the books to seller sites, monitoring them…
The list goes on, and she never gives herself credit. ”
Georgie sighs dramatically. “Okay, okay. Yes, I work hard. But I love it. Plus, I met Lizzie through my books—I was looking for a proofreader—”
“And I was looking for some extra work,” Lizzie says.
“And we’ve been friends for… what, five years now?” Georgie asks.
“I think so,” Lizzie says.
Watching them volley back and forth so naturally with their words, the strength and warmth of their friendship is enviable. I hope to have that one day.
I lean toward Georgie, still intrigued, and dying to know more. “How did you become an author? Did you always want to write?”
“Well, I was always an avid reader, and I was getting to where I was having trouble finding books I could relate to. So, I tried it and wrote one. I didn’t do anything with it for a long time.
But eventually, my best friend Heath—he’s the youngest of the Aron men—found it and nagged me relentlessly until I published it. Then, I just kept doing it.”
I know I’m staring at her like a weirdo, but I’m in awe.
“I’m so impressed by all you’ve done. Here I am at thirty, and I’ve done… well, nothing remarkable. I started college but didn’t finish. I thought for sure I wanted to work in human resources, and now I’m not even sure about that. So, own that you’re a novelist, boss lady.”
Laughter rolls out of Georgie and Lizzie. When they settle, they both sport huge smiles.
“Before all of this, I worked in the back office of a small company in Meadow Creek. It took me a while to find myself. So, don’t be so hard on yourself.
When the right thing presents itself, you’ll know.
” Georgie’s smile is encouraging, and she’s relaxed, her eyes soft.
She looks like she’s at peace talking about this.
“Thanks. There may be hope for me yet,” I tease. “Maybe I’ll have to get one of your books.”
“As long as you’re not easily embarrassed, you’ll be able to look her in the face again,” Lizzie laughs. When I first got here, I thought she was shy, but she’s definitely opening up the longer we’re all here.
“There’s just steam in it. It’s nothing too wild,” Georgie says.
Tillie has come and sat near us for the last few minutes of our conversation and chimes in, “Delaney, I have all of Georgie’s books, so if you want to borrow a couple, just remind me, and I’ll get them to you before you leave tonight.”
“Okay, that sounds great.”
Over the next hour, we eat, indulge in conversation, and I find myself more relaxed than I have been in a long time. Well, I mean, excluding when I had sex with Harrison, because I was pretty damn relaxed after that. But everyday stuff—this is nice.
The reminder of sex with Harrison takes me back to our conversation earlier today. I get butterflies in my lower belly remembering it…
Standing here wrapped in Harrison’s arms, with my head on his chest and the sun warming the exposed side of my face, I’m feeling so much.
Yes, the anxiety and embarrassment over him getting me tires is still there, but those things aren’t more powerful than the emotions this hug evokes.
I feel sentiments I haven’t felt in so long that they’re foreign to me: protected, peaceful, cared for, safe, supported. He’s like a human weighted blanket.
I know I care about him—a lot. Fear about what that means tries to wiggle its way into my thoughts. I could let myself dwell on all the ‘what ifs,’ but I don’t want to. Not right now. I push the thoughts away and focus on the good stuff.
When he pulls back, and I peer up at him, a defeated sigh escapes him. My heart races in anticipation of what that sigh means.
“Bets, it pains me to say this, but we can’t have sex anymore.”
What? That’s unexpected. And there’s no question, sex with us is phenomenal. He even called it ‘mind-blowing’ earlier. He told me last night he wanted to see if we could be more, then today he said that he cares about me. So, I’m not sure where this is coming from.
He breaks through my downward-spiraling thoughts with a tender kiss on my temple.
“Do you want to give this relationship a real go?” His voice is rough, and his eyes narrow a smidge, causing him to look uncertain. “Because I do.”
I bite my lower lip, a nervous habit, and swallow past the thickness in my throat. His large hands rest on my upper arms, and they move up and down over my skin in calming caresses. I release my lip. Oh, my God… I do.
“Yes.” The word comes out just above a whisper. “But I’m kind of afraid. My life is complicated, and what if it doesn’t work and everything changes?”
“I want to take time to talk about all your feelings, and we’ll take that at your pace. But let’s not allow that to hold us back right now. Okay?”
I look into his eyes for a few seconds, and then I nod.
“But why don’t you want to have sex with me anymore?” I whisper. I turn my gaze downward, unable to look him in the eye.
He tilts my head up with his thumb under my chin until my gaze meets his.
“It’s not a matter of want. I want you all the time.
Not an exaggeration,” he pauses, and his gaze intensifies for a few seconds, then he strokes my cheek with the back of his hand.
“You drive me fucking crazy with desire every time I look at you. But that’s the problem.
I don’t just crave the physical; I want it all.
I want to know your mind, your emotions, your heart. ”
“Oh,” My heart pounds against my chest.
“Yeah, oh. So, the only way I can think of to focus on all the rest with the attention it deserves is to take sex off the table for a while. But make no mistake, I will curse myself every day for this.” His lips curve into a sexy smile, and I nearly melt right there.
“Can I ask two questions?” He nods. “Is kissing allowed? Because I think it should be.”
“Yes, I think we can manage that.” His grin brightens his face, and it looks great on him.
“Okay,” I pause and look down at my watch, then back to him with the poutiest smile I can muster. “What time does the no-sex rule take effect?”
“I hear you’re taming our suit stud, huh?” Ruthie’s words pull me from my daydream, just as I was getting to the good part.
I chuckle, knowing she’s talking about Harrison. “I don’t know about taming, but I’ve gotten him to—occasionally, at least—let me organize his schedule and his office.”
A cunning smile forms on Ruthie’s lips. “Well, that is pretty impressive, but it’s not really what I’m talking about. Let’s just say I’m hearing that our lovable, grumpy guy has been a lot less crabby.” When she says crabby, Ruthie pretends her hands are claws and opens and closes them.
While Ruthie was talking, Layla ambled over and climbed onto Tillie’s lap. I watch as her little face squishes up in irritation.
“Ruthie, be nice to Uncle Harry.” There’s no question she means it as a scolding.
Ruthie does a great job plastering on a contrite face. “I’m sorry, Ladybug. I’m just teasing about him.”
Layla takes a second and looks at each of us, making eye contact with everyone.
“Teasing might hurt people’s feelings. Even if the person laughs and pretends it doesn’t. Right, Mommy?”
“Right, sweetie.” Tillie fights back a grin, clearly recognizing the seriousness with which Layla speaks.
“Plus, I already told everyone that only Uncle Harry’s face is grumpy. In here,”—she pats the left side of her chest—“that’s where our hearts are. And Uncle Harry’s heart is soft and lovey. Okay?”
We all nod in assent because it’s clear that it’s not a rhetorical question to Layla. The little pixie expects an acknowledgement.
It’s Georgie who breaks the few seconds of silence that follow Layla’s impassioned mini-speech. “Mic drop,” she whispers.