Chapter 9 Georgie
Georgie
Before I realized James had bought out a baby store, I wasn’t sure where Weston would sleep, so I pulled out one of the drawers of the dresser, placing it in the middle of the bed in the guest room.
After folding a blanket and laying it inside the drawer for padding, I laid Weston down for his nap in his makeshift bassinet.
Unfortunately, his nap lasted only a few minutes before the doorbell woke him up. Tightening his swaddling blanket around him, I tuck Weston back into the dresser drawer, grateful I was able to get him back to sleep without much fuss.
Even though I’m exhausted, I fight my sluggish body’s desire for sleep and make my way through the large house toward the unfamiliar voices.
I guess more than just James’ brother came to visit.
Hovering in the hallway, I smooth my clammy hands down the front of my sweatpants and check to make sure my T-shirt is clean, wishing I looked nicer.
Fake it till I make it. I push my shoulders back, fluff my dark hair, and walk out with a smile.
There are seven people in the foyer—James, three men, and three women.
From my previous research on the band, I recognize all the guys.
As an Alabama native, I’m familiar with Outlaw’s music, the homegrown country band that made it to the top of the charts and stayed there, but before meeting James, I never paid much attention to the band members themselves.
The only exception being Ruston Hayes, the lead singer, because he’s sometimes mentioned and photographed in the press.
Josh, James’ little brother, stands at the front of the pack.
The brothers share a strong resemblance, so it’s easy to tell they’re related.
The two of them remind me of Chris and Liam Hemsworth, both in their coloring and their builds.
James, like Chris, has dark blond hair and a strapping, muscular body.
While Josh is just as attractive as his older brother, his body type is leaner, like Liam’s.
Behind Josh stands Rowdy, a big, burly dude with a heavy beard and a booming voice.
While I don’t recognize the women, I assume they’re Ruston, Josh, and Rowdy’s significant others.
When they see me, everyone stops talking to stare in my direction. My smile threatens to slip from my face, but I won’t let it. I’ve spent most of my life walking into rooms where I’m not wanted, so why should it bother me now?
But it does because these people are important to James, and I can’t bear the thought of disappointing him. Not when he’s been so kind to me.
James’ voice breaks the silence. “Weston fall back to sleep okay?”
With a fluttering feeling in my chest, I say, “He did.”
James holds out his hand to me. “Come here, darlin’. I want you to meet everybody.”
Darlin’. That endearment, sliding from his lips with ease, hits me like a sucker punch.
Studying me with narrowed eyes, Josh stands with his arms crossed over his chest, bristling.
When I reach James, he tugs me under his arm. With his broad frame shielding me, he brushes a ghost of a kiss on my temple.
I know the sign of affection is for his friends’ benefit, so they will believe our charade is genuine, but I eagerly lap up every morsel he bestows upon me. As I tilt into his touch, I marvel at how good it feels to be held after being alone for so long.
“Everybody, this is Georgie.”
I smile, snaking my arm around his waist, not to aid in convincing them that we’re a couple, but to keep from collapsing. My knees shake as I stand silent.
Just when the tension grows thick enough you could cut it with a knife, Josh snaps, his voice vibrating, “Seriously, James? You don’t have any other details you want to share?
Like how y’all met or how long you’ve been together?
Or when the fuck you were going to tell us about any of this?
” Josh spins my way. “Are you a groupie? Did you baby trap my brother to get his money?”
Though understandable, my head rears back at Josh’s hostile accusations. “What? No!”
“That’s enough, Josh.” James’ voice carries an authoritative edge to it, cutting off his brother’s tirade.
My arm falls to my side as I take a step back, separating myself from James. He doesn’t need to be brought into my bullshit. I open my mouth to admit the truth, but James grabs my hand and pulls it to his chest, snagging my attention. As if he can read my mind, he discreetly shakes his head once.
After sending James a tight smile, I turn back to his friends, and I witness the exact moment Josh’s eyes widen in recognition. Then, he roars, “What the fuck is that?”
Following Josh’s line of sight, my gaze drops to my hand still resting on James’s chest, my grandmother’s wedding band on full display.
Oh, shit.
James jumps in. “Enough, Josh.”
A flash of hurt crosses Josh’s face before his anger takes center stage. “No, it’s not enough! You’re fucking married, too?”
“As I was about to tell you, this is Georgie. My wife.”
My wife. God, I’ll never get used to hearing those two words. The way they roll off James’ tongue, so soft and certain, makes my heart stutter.
And it almost makes me forget that it’s all a lie.
James tugs me back into his arms. I go willingly, keeping my head down. I don’t want to see any more judgments on his friends’ faces. Their expressions will only reflect my own feelings.
I’m not good enough.
James deserves better.
This situation is bogus as hell.
Josh squares up across from his brother. “James, please tell me you got a DNA test. If she tricked you, we can get the marriage annulled based on fraud.”
“I said that’s enough,” James replies. His voice, commanding and sharp, puts a temporary stop to the argument. But it doesn’t release the tension in the room.
Josh backs up, leaning against the wall. He crosses his arms again and throws another hostile glance my way.
My throat tightens under his continued scrutiny. He’s right to blame me. This whole situation is all my fault.
Ruston steps forward as if he’s the mediator for the group, his voice calm.
“James, you gotta give us something, man. You’ve been single for years, and then in the span of a week, you drop the bomb that you got married and had a baby.
You’ve gotta understand that we’re all confused.
” His eyes dart to mine before finishing softly, “And concerned.”
My spirits sink as my guilt climbs when James sighs and says, “As an adult, have y’all ever known me to be rash and impulsive?”
Disgruntled, Josh purses his lips and looks away while Rowdy and Ruston both mutter, “No.”
One of the women pipes up, “Yes.” She puts her hands on her hips as her curly hair bounces with each of her head nods.
With sass oozing from her voice, she goes on, gesturing at the band members.
“Yes, I have. All four of y’all act like immature little babies.
No offense to the actual baby in the house. ”
Ruston and Rowdy exchange a look and fight smiles as James sighs again. Addressing the woman who spoke, James says, “I mean besides drinking too much and hassling you, Char.”
Ah, she must be Charlotte Townsend, Outlaw’s manager.
Her name came up several times in the articles I read about the band, but she was never photographed.
She looks nothing like the image I concocted in my mind for the manager of a wildly successful group.
I expected someone smooth and polished, professional and reserved.
Instead, with her tortoiseshell glasses slipping down her nose, her hair twisted into a messy bun, and a casual dress paired with thick-soled black Doc Martens, she looks more like an emo grad student than the manager of a best-selling country band.
“Look, I get that this comes as a shock to you guys, and… it’s not something Georgie and I planned either.
It was a happy accident.” James’ eyes dart to mine, and in a moment of mirth, we exchange small smiles at his pun.
“All I’m asking for is a little time and space so we can find our footing as a family. ”
Family.
God, that’s all I’ve ever wanted. To be part of a family, a real family.
Emotions swamp me, and I fight a shuddering sob that threatens to break free.
Feeling my breath hitch, James slides his arm from my shoulder to my waist and pulls me closer. Over the past week, James has shown up for me in ways no one else has, making me feel safe, so I allow myself a moment of weakness to take comfort and strength in James’ embrace.
“You okay?” James murmurs.
I nod, having regained my emotional balance.
A woman with long blonde hair steps forward and holds out her hand to me. “Hi, Georgie. I’m Annabelle, Hayes’ fiancée. It’s a pleasure to meet you, and I apologize for barging in on y’all so soon after getting home from the hospital.”
Hayes? Does she refer to her fiancé by his last name? Weird.
But certainly not weirder than pretending to be married to a man who was a total stranger to me a week ago.
From there, proper introductions are made, and James ushers us into the living room as he moves boxes around to give people room to sit down. It’s awkward as hell, and Josh is still angry, but everyone else seems to be loosening up.
After a few minutes of small talk, most of which revolves around Weston and how he’s doing after a week in the NICU, I hop up.
But I move too fast, causing a wave of dizziness to hit me from out of nowhere.
Running on adrenaline, I’d almost forgotten that I’m still feeling the effects of my concussion.
Masking my discomfort as best I can, I ask, “Would anyone like something to drink? We have…” I trail off, realizing with a start that I have no idea what drinks James keeps stocked in his fridge.
Does he drink Coke or is he someone who drinks fancy-pants sparkling water? What if he only keeps rotting takeout containers and a random assortment of expired condiments in the fridge?
James stands. “No, Georgie. You sit. I’ll get the drinks.”
“But I can help,” I say.
His fingers pat my cheek in a gentle swipe. “Georgie, you’re weaving on your feet. You need to rest.”
Rowdy’s wife, Bailey, chimes in, “Yes, you really should try to sleep when Weston sleeps if you can, Georgie. We have a daughter, Ava, and she’s only two months old, so we’re still in the thick of it, too.
” She elbows her husband and adds, “Rowdy and I can grab the drinks. James, go put your wife to bed.”
Escaping to the kitchen for a few minutes to grab drinks sounded like a good idea, but escaping to take a nap sounds like the best idea in the entire history of ideas.
With his hand warming my lower back, James ushers me out of the living room and back down the hallway, moving past the guest room where Weston is sleeping and continuing to the last door on the right.
He pushes open the door to what must be his bedroom.
I know this because it smells like him. I’ve come to understand that his distinctive leather and gasoline smell is just part of him, and I inhale a deep breath, loving his masculine scent.
I look at James questioningly.
“We’re married,” James shoots me a wry smile. “It’ll be weird if they find out you aren’t sleeping in my room.”
He leads me to the left side of the massive bed, and I sit on the edge.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, my head bowed.
“It’s not your fault, darlin’.”
His words stop me in my tracks. When I was with Nolan, everything was always my fault. He kept track of all my misdeeds, real or imagined, and never stopped reminding me of them.
Dropping down to his knees, James takes off my shoes before lifting my legs and placing them on the bed. I start to protest, but James cuts me off with a bossy look.
When my head hits the pillow, I close my eyes with a soft sigh.
If James wants people to believe we’re a family, what’s the harm in pretending?