Chapter 12
Georgie was having the time of his life at the Bamboo House party until he started bleeding. The injury was extra painful because it was the first time all summer that he felt like he might have found his shot at love.
Growing up, Georgie had always believed in love. Happy endings were never just a hypothetical. He knew every word to Notting Hill and had practically memorized Pride and Prejudice by the age of twelve. He was a sucker for romance films, for kissing in the rain, for tear-soaked apologies and the sweeping reconciliations that always seemed to follow them.
It wasn’t Georgie’s fault. He’d been raised by a relationship straight from the storybooks. His parents, George Sr. and Georgine, had grown up in the same town but were sent to different private high schools. They went to the same university, but never crossed paths. Later, they’d piece together that they’d even attended many of the same Rolling Stones concerts and Giants games. Star-crossed strangers. Even their names were matches. But it wasn’t until a share house on Fire Island that they’d finally met and fallen instantly, madly in love.
Georgie was ready for his own story to begin. He wanted a romance like his mother and father’s. A love that felt happenstance but was always meant to be. Something predestined, something revelatory, something fortune had planned. That was why he’d enthusiastically supported Mac’s pitch for a return to Ocean Beach this summer. Why he’d spent weeks helping him research rentals until an occupancy at Serendipity House popped up like fate.
Fire Island had worked for his parents. Was his romance waiting on deck?
Yet when Georgie was presented with the first moment all year that felt like it could have been love, or at least a step toward it, he was tragically disappointed to realize he was bleeding all over the Bamboo House kitchen counter.
Profusely bleeding.
And while Ocean Beach may have had romantic origins in spades, it was certainly lacking in its emergency room capacity.
Georgie’s Friday night plan was simple, he had decided on the ferry ride over. It was time to take back his life. Earlier in the day, he’d called in sick to work. He hadn’t slept in three weeks, and the case didn’t even go to trial. He was desperate for a break.
When Maggie shared the invitation to a party at her friend’s house, Georgie took it as Sign One. He insisted they attend. True love didn’t live for Georgie in the Serendipity House. Brenna and Quinn were like his sisters, and since everyone suspected that Mac was still nursing a lifelong crush on Maggie, even though it had been years since she’d broken up with him, she was off-limits.
No, if Georgie was going to find love in Ocean Beach, he needed to look beyond East Meadow’s borders.
The party at the Bamboo House seemed like the perfect place. Georgie could hear the music before he even walked up the porch steps. Inside, two dozen or so beautiful faces were a billboard for youth. It was a house member’s birthday, Georgie realized, so there were banners and balloons, and something called birthday cake shots being handed to anyone who walked in. Georgie downed the sugary drink gladly. He loved every second of it.
He loved every second of dancing to a catchy song in the kitchen, of making small talk by the spinach-and-artichoke dip, of commenting on the Mets game on the TV in the living room corner. They were winning, somehow. Thank you, Conforto. Sign Two for a magical evening.
He loved every second of not looking at his work phone, of not mistaking random sounds for phantom rings, of not worrying about doing anything so enchanting that he might forget to refresh his email, to answer a late-night demand from his boss.
He loved every second of meeting the brunette goddess Charlotte. She was petite and smiley and wearing a sequin tank top with high-waisted denim shorts. It was her birthday, she told him, and he was cute. Did he want to make her a margarita?
Georgie nodded. Absolutely. She guided him by the hand toward the kitchen. She pulled ingredients out of the cabinets and fridge—chilled tequila and orange liqueur, coarse kosher salt, and a handful of limes. Something sweet, agave, to add at the end.
She asked about his family and his childhood dog and his favorite place to eat in the city. She didn’t once ask him about his job, and Georgie thought he might have fallen just a little bit in love right then and there. Was this Sign Three?
Who needs law firms?Georgie thought as he pulled a paring knife from the wooden block on the counter.
Who needs corporate jobs and billable hours and partner tracks?Georgie thought as he put the limes on the cutting board.
“Who needs any of it?” Georgie realized he was speaking the words aloud now, waving the knife in the air.
“Who needs the law? All I need is love,” Georgie said, knife still outstretched, prepared to slice open the lime placed squarely in front of him, which he held steady with his other thumb and forefinger. “Hey! Like the Beatles, baby! All I need is love!”
He sang and he swung the knife down, missing the lime completely. Hitting only his thumb. Charlotte fainted at the sight.
Love wasn’t Georgie’s fate. Not tonight.
“He’s bleeding!” someone called out.
“Where are the Band-Aids?” another voice cried.
Georgie just stared at Charlotte’s perfectly symmetrical face, passed out on the floor. Her friends were patting her forehead with a wet towel as she slowly came to. Her eyes fluttered and her brows were damp, and Georgie still thought she looked perfect.
“Happy birthday,” was all he could manage, as Mac and Maggie pulled him aside and tried not to panic about the state of their friend’s bloody thumb.
“I can’t find any Band-Aids here,” Maggie said.
“I have some back at the house. Never travel without them,” Mac said. Georgie was grateful his friend was an athlete. Athletes were more prepared for injuries than sleep-deprived paralegals.
“I’m so sorry, guys,” Georgie said, the pain starting to announce itself. The alcohol had delayed it, but not enough. “This fucking hurts.”
“Let’s get out of here. Do you think he needs a doctor?”
“Are there even doctors on Fire Island?” Georgie said, trying to stay calm.
“I think he’ll be okay. Cam cut himself like this once when we were kids. Just need to compress and to ice,” Mac said. He had his superhero voice on, but Georgie wouldn’t make fun of him for it this time.
“You guys are seriously leaving already?” Robyn’s lower lip was pouted out, her hand on her hip. “That’s so lame.”
“He’s bleeding. What do you want me to do?” Mac asked.
“Have someone else help him!”
“He’s my friend.”
“It’s okay,” Maggie cut in. “We’re just getting some Band-Aids. We’ll be right back.”
“Whatever.” Robyn turned and left.
“I’m sorry, man, you don’t have to come,” Georgie said, but Mac just shook his head.
“Are you kidding? Of course I’m coming with you.”
“Let’s get a move on, boys. He’s still bleeding.” Maggie steered them in the direction of the front door, where a tall guy with black hair stood. “Thanks for having us. Sorry for the mess,” she said. Her voice was lighter than normal, her cheeks a little rosy. This must be Ty, the one who had invited them in the first place. The one who, in doing so, had dangled the opportunity for love in Georgie’s face.
Walking back, Georgie wondered if maybe he wasn’t meant for a happy ending. All his life, he’d been told to work hard. To succeed. Then he’d be happy. He had worked tirelessly for years. He’d gotten the best grades, the best test scores. He’d given up nights and weekends and free time. Adulthood was one long stretch with no summer breaks in between. July was the same corporate mundanity, only the commute was hotter.
When was it going to be the good part?
Were happy endings a scam?Georgie wondered morosely, as Maggie tightened a Band-Aid around his thumb. The bleeding had started up again when they’d gotten back to their share house.
Georgie couldn’t stop worrying as he lay down on the couch, resting his head on a throw pillow. Were his parents the exception, and not the norm?
His eyelids fought to stay open, flickering against themselves like a camera’s quick lens.
He ignored the snapshots of Mac and Maggie staring over him.
And then the snapshots of them staring at each other.
He didn’t need to see how Mac still looked at Maggie with that sparkle in his eye. The same sparkle his parents shared. His grandparents. Everyone else so happy.
Georgie let his own eyes close, his vision fade to black. He’d drift to sleep. If he couldn’t find love in Ocean Beach tonight, maybe he could find love in his dreams.
He wasn’t ready to give up entirely.
He’d find his happy ending one day.
Just not today.