5. Chapter Five #2
He hands me the bouquet of roses, and I take it, happy to see him. George Wickham just has this way about him. When I see him around town or at the cafe, he always finds a way to charm me with a look, a smile, or a compliment.
I thought that maybe he was just being nice to me, but the way he looks at me now makes me think there may be something there. Maybe I have been too blind to see it.
“Thanks, George.”
I close the door behind him. I sniff the roses, not even caring that they aren’t my favorite flowers. That he bought them for me is reason enough for me to like them.
“George Wickham?!” Lydia asks, stunned.
I turn to look at her, forgetting that she’s in the hallway with us. She gawks at him and then looks at me, narrowing her eyes at me as if I’d betrayed her.
She hisses and barely whispers to me, “You’re dating a hot cop and didn’t want to tell me?”
George laughs, blushing and taking the compliment in stride. “Hey, Lydia.”
She gasps. “I didn’t know you knew my name.”
I look between the two of them. “You two know each other?”
The question feels odd since almost everyone knows everyone in Selah Falls.
“We met at the university, I think,” George says, cocking his head at her.
Then he looks her over. With interest? I blink at him. No, I’m imagining things. He is not looking at my younger sister like that. He is just trying to remember her. Right?
She looks at him, unsure. “Yeah, you’re right. You were probably there for some emergency or something.”
“Right,” he says, nodding.
Lydia shrugs and walks away, calling Mama and asking about the food.
“Stop pestering me, Lydia,” says Mama from the kitchen. Her voice carries into the hallway. “Go and tell your sisters to come inside and wash their hands for dinner.”
“Thanks for having me over tonight,” says George, pulling my attention back to him. “I’m starving after this shift.”
“It’s time to eat!” Mama calls out from the kitchen, making her proclamation known throughout the house.
George and I move towards the dining room next to the kitchen. The table is set. The food looks ready to devour.
My stomach rumbles, and I realize I haven’t really eaten much today. I set the flowers in the middle of the table near the other flowers Mama has out as a centerpiece. I pull out a chair and gesture to a seat across from me for George to take.
“Boys sit on this side. My parents sit at the ends of the table and my sisters and I usually sit on this side.”
“Assigned seats?” George smiles down at me. “Cute. But I’ll miss you if I sit all the way over there.”
He’s so close that I can smell his cologne. It’s a citrusy scent that makes me step closer to him. He touches my cheek.
He has never done that before. I’ve known him since I was a kid. I had a huge crush on him throughout middle school and high school.
We grew up around each other, but we never really hung out before, at least not that much. He had his crew, and I had mine. But I remember those times when we had classes together, and he sat next to me, making me laugh at his corny jokes. He used to pass me notes that made me smile.
I remember when he’d hug me in the hallway before heading to his next class. I used to love how he smelled then, too, when he leaned in to hug me.
Then, one day during junior year, he stopped talking to me in class, and the next thing I knew, he was making out with another girl during lunch. I pull away from him now, remembering that a little more vividly than I’d like to.
“What’s wrong?” he asks, noticing my change in demeanor.
“It’s so stupid,” I say, laughing to myself. “I was just thinking about back then. I was so stuck on you. You were my middle school and high school crush. And then you broke my heart by making out in the cafeteria with that one girl who looks like a black Jennifer Lawrence. Do you remember that?”
He laughs too, shaking his head. “I did not make out with her like that.”
“Then what would you call it? There was kissing involved. I remember I was just minding my own business, walking out of the cafeteria. And there you were. Sitting there, kissing her. And you even had the nerve to stop kissing her and turn to look at me and say, ‘Hey,’ before you continued kissing her.”
I start to question why I even liked him in the first place because that was brutal for younger me.
“Okay, I was wrong. She was my new girlfriend, and yes, we were kissing. I saw you walk by and I wanted to make you jealous.”
I suck in a breath, shocked. But I laugh, and then we’re both laughing. He’s closer somehow, and my hand lands on his chest.
“What?” I ask. “Stop. You were kissing her to make me jealous?”
“Yes. Do you know how many times I asked you out, and you shot me down? I was desperate, young, and dumb. I thought it would show you how in demand I was if I had a girl who wanted me when I thought you didn’t.”
“I didn’t understand how to flirt back then. I thought you were joking when you asked me for my number or offered to walk me home. The concept of you liking me was so foreign to me. And I was just so obsessed with you. How could you not see it?”
I laugh so hard that I throw my head back. He wraps a hand around my waist and pulls me closer to him. It should feel right, but something feels off.
Before I can process that, George asks, “You don’t get it, do you?”
I stop laughing, watching him while he watches me. I ask, “Get what?”
“Lizzie, I was obsessed with you too. I just wanted your attention. I was an idiot.”
He leans down, his eyes moving from my eyes to my lips. This is everything younger me wanted. But now, I’m not sure if this is what I want anymore.
Somewhere in the house a door slams. We jump apart. My heart thumps in my chest. We both laugh again.
“Please go and sit down before we get in trouble,” I say to George, pointing over to his seat across from me. He takes his seat, but winks at me as he sits.
My heart is still beating fast. I can’t throw him out before dinner has even started. I can’t back out now.
I didn’t tell anyone that George was coming.
But I am so happy that Billie isn’t here yet so that I can hopefully shock everyone with the surprise of me having a date tonight.
Lydia hasn’t yelled to everyone that we have a guest, so I assume she is keeping her mouth shut to allow the shock to settle in for everyone else.
I hear the back door shut as my sisters come inside from the backyard. The sink turns on, and chatter fills the air. I am too nervous to go in there and wash my hands.
Instead, I use some of the hand sanitizer Mama leaves on the table at all times to ensure that only those with clean hands eat at her table.
I offer some to George, and he takes it.
As he rubs his hands together, Papa walks into the dining room, stretching as if he’s been working hard, even though he is retired.
“Hey Papa,” I say, trying to get his attention.
He gazes around sleepily, not noticing George at first. He doesn’t even look at me, but he knows my voice. “How’s my Elizabeth doing?”
“Papa,” I say again, tone more urgent. Him calling me by my first name feels more like I am a kid being called the childhood nickname I have left behind. “You know Officer George Wickham?”
He glances over at me and then at George across from me. He raises an eyebrow. The corners of his mouth turn up as if he is slightly amused at the sight of George at our dinner table.
“Well, hello, Officer Wickham,” says Papa. He sits down at the table. “What brings you by today? We aren’t in trouble, are we?”
“Trouble? No, sir. Lizzie invited me over.”
“She did?” Mama asks, entering the room carrying a bowl of sweet rolls. She sets them on the table next to the potatoes and takes her place at the other end of the table. Her eyes are on me the whole time, though.
“Yes, Mama,” I say through a forced smile. “I did. Aren’t you going to be nice and say hi to our guest?”
“Hello, Officer Wickham.” Mama didn’t smile at him or offer a genuine greeting.
He swallows hard. “Ma’am, thank you for allowing me to have dinner with your family. And please, you all can call me George. I’m only wearing the uniform tonight because I didn’t have time to change after work, but I’m off duty.”
“George,” Papa says slowly, picking up a roll. Just as he is about to put it into his mouth, Mama takes the roll from him and places it on the plate in front of him.
“Yes, George. We’d love to have you stay, but unfortunately we weren’t prepared for another guest tonight. I’m afraid we won’t have enough food for you. And we don’t even have enough seats for everyone.”
“Sure we do,” I say, matching Mama’s fake-nice tone. “George is staying for dinner tonight since he’s already here. You wouldn’t want to be rude to my date, now, would you?”
“Date?” Mama asks, sitting back in her chair, astounded. “Since when are you dating George Wickham?”
“Since now,” I say, smiling as I enjoy this moment to confuse and irritate her. “So, you can stop sending me dating app links while I’m at work. I’m doing pretty good on my own, finding a date and all.”
George looks from her to me, wearing an expression that says he’s not sure whether he should burst out laughing or add something to the conversation. He doesn’t have time to say anything because my sisters and their mates walk in. They all stare as they take their seats.
“I didn’t know we were having a guest over,” Janet says, looking over at George and then at me.
She sits next to me, with Lydia, Mary, and Kitty all on my side of the table, while her husband, Charlie, sits with the guys across from us. Charlie and Papa share a knowing look. Janet looks at me quizzically.
Mary and Kitty greet George with a little too much enthusiasm. Lydia looks as if she’s settling in to watch her favorite soap opera.
“We are,” Mama says through gritted teeth. “Just not the one sitting at the table with us now.”
“Should I go?” George asks me politely.