Chapter 3 #3
It always comes back to this with him. After winning a national short story contest my senior year of high school, I’d said I wanted to write.
Rem went into full big brother lecture mode with facts and figures about financial security and the likelihood of success.
So, I put the dream on hold. After high school graduation, I got my Bachelor’s and then my Master’s.
I went to work establishing my career as a social worker, but the passion wasn’t gone.
It just slumbered quietly until it roared awake five years ago.
Even now, the words may be hidden from me, but the desire burns like wildfire to keep going.
“You’re just like Dad.” He shakes his head.
The barb pierces straight into my gut, and the disappointment that shadows his stare as he looks at me twists it.
There it is. The real reason Rem’s judgment always finds fault with my choices.
Of the three Lane siblings, I may be most like our dad.
Rem has inherited Dad’s strong jawline and height, but he’s more practical, like our mother.
Although, Rem’s practicality is on steroids compared to her.
I may look like my mother with a rounder figure and long brown hair, but my thirst for creative fulfillment is one hundred percent Nolan Lane.
“Rem.” Hope places her palm atop his hand, her voice featherlight.
He pinches the bridge of his nose. “Georgia, I’m sorry. I just want to see you settled. To know that you’ll be okay. Things are going to change after the baby comes.”
I blink. “Are you saying you want me to move out?”
“No,” Hope says quickly, her fierce gaze shoots to her husband. “We’re not saying that.”
“We’re not, but…”
“You’re thinking that?” I sit up straight.
This is only the second time that the idea of me moving out has come up.
The first time was five years ago, and that had been my idea.
Well, mine and Will’s. He had his own place.
A place we discussed becoming our place.
At least, that was the plan until two days before I was supposed to move in when a This isn’t what I want text arrived.
Rem clears his throat. “Maybe if you’re on your own, it will help you get your priorities straight. To focus on what’s important.”
“We haven’t discussed this.” Hope glares at him.
“I know, but?—”
“No buts.” She raises her left hand, points at her ring, and then at his on his left hand. “These rings mean we’re a team. We discuss things like this. Like asking my best friend, your sister, and the only aunt to our daughter to move out.”
Hope may be the human embodiment of a Care Bear, but bears have claws.
There have only been a few times throughout our decades-long friendship that I’ve seen feisty Hope come out.
The time she verbally castrated a bully who shouted homophobic slurs at Jackson at a high school baseball game.
The time Will showed up to pick up his things after our breakup and she turned the garden hose on full blast and sprayed him as he walked, box in hand, to his car.
Rem rubs the back of his head. “Sweetheart, I’m?—”
“Don’t sweetheart me.” She gestures wildly.
Affection may bubble inside me at my friend’s ire directed on my behalf, but it curdles in my stomach to see them argue.
The hurt that cascades within me aside, I don’t want to see this.
The anger isn’t good for Hope’s blood pressure.
I know it’s something their OB-GYN has mentioned they should keep an eye on.
“It’s fine,” I blurt, drawing both their attention. “I have been thinking that it may be time to move out.”
“You have?” they say in unison, Hope’s eyes wide and Rem’s forehead wrinkled.
Shifting in my seat, I nod. “Yeah.”
It’s a total lie. Since unpacking my packed boxes for a move that never happened, the idea never crossed my mind.
In all my daydreams of future relationships or selling enough books to write full time, I never imagined a future that isn’t the carriage house apartment.
Maybe I am in my own version of Peter Pan syndrome, where I just live at home the rest of my life.
“Pregnancy Card!” Hope tosses her hands into the air.
“The doctor said you shouldn’t have fried foods, but…” Rem says, the conflicting emotions that wrestle inside him are visible in his pinched expression. His desire to always keep his wife happy is at war with that to keep her safe.
“No, not a mozzarella sticks run,” she tuts. “Georgia moving. Can we put a pause on it until after the baby comes?” She rubs her stomach and the action drags both Rem and my attention to her pregnant belly.
Oh, she’s good. There’s no doubt that my bestie is emotional about this. The baby hormones have gotten the best of her at times but she’s playing both of us.
A silent laugh tugs up my lips. “Sure.”
Rem places his hand over hers, tenderness making his eyes bright. “Of course, sweetheart. I’m so sorry I brought it up. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“And your sister?” She almost pouts.
She’s ruthless. God, I love her. I bite back a snicker.
“Of course.” He meets my gaze. “I’m sorry, Georgia. I know how I can be, but please know it’s just me wanting what’s best.”
I try not to fixate on Rem not telling me he doesn’t want me to leave. The attempt isn’t valiant. It’s a flat-out submission to the truth that my brother wants me gone.