Chapter 21 Georgie
Georgie
Afew minutes after four, Josh storms into the house. I’m in the kitchen prepping a salad to go with dinner, but I can hear the brothers’ raised voices from across the house.
Should I go see what’s the matter or let them work it out between themselves?
Rinsing my hands off, I dry them on a kitchen towel, still debating what to do. But then I hear my name coming out of Josh’s mouth with such vitriol, I can’t ignore it, and I move on instinct.
Walking from the kitchen to the foyer, I see Josh holding some papers, shaking them at James. James stands, arms crossed over his muscular chest, looking calm and composed in the face of his brother’s wrath.
Hiding in the shadows so they don’t notice me, I listen as the conversation unfolds.
In other words, I eavesdrop.
“I knew something wasn’t right from the very beginning, James.
She’s using you! I knew it, but I knew you wouldn’t believe me without proof.
” With each word that leaves Josh’s mouth, he gets more worked up.
Color seeps into his face, and his voice gets louder.
“So, when Georgie was sick, I took Weston’s DNA and sent it off to compare it to my own.
James, it’s not a match! I’m not genetically related to Weston, which means you aren’t either. He isn’t your son!”
But when James utters, “I know,” Josh’s bluster deflates like a leaking balloon. Shock washes over his handsome features as his head springs back.
“You already… knew?” Josh scrapes his fingers through his hair, squinting at James in astonishment. “You know Weston isn’t your son?”
“He’s not my biological son, but make no mistake, Weston is my son.”
If I weren’t so anxious, I’d be elated to hear James claim Weston as his own, but this whole conversation has me on edge.
“What do you mean? Explain what the fuck is happening here.”
And after weeks of pretending to be a family, the truth is finally about to be unveiled.
“I met Georgie the day of Hayes and Annabelle’s engagement party.
Georgie crashed into my car at a stoplight because her water broke and she was having contractions.
She was in labor, sustained a concussion in the wreck, and then she fainted in my arms. It was a clusterfuck at the accident scene.
The EMTs saw the wedding band on her finger and thought I was her husband, and man, she was all alone. So, I went to the hospital with her—”
“What the fuck, James?” Josh’s eyes bulge. “Are you even hearing yourself right now? An EMT assumed you were married, and now, nearly two months later, you’re stuck playing house with a stranger and pretending her bastard is your kid?”
My hand flies to my mouth as I flinch at Josh’s words.
You’re stuck playing house with a stranger and pretending her bastard is your kid.
“It isn’t like that!” From my hidden vantage point, I witness the change wash over James as he absorbs Josh’s comment.
His relaxed posture vanishes, replaced by a protective, righteous sort of anger.
“Not another negative word about Weston or Georgie. You, of all people, should appreciate the complexities of the situation.”
Josh scoffs, shaking his head. “Wow, low blow, brother.”
There’s an underlying context happening within this conversation that I’m missing, so I don’t understand what James is alluding to, even though Josh obviously does.
“So, what’s your plan? This whole thing between you and Georgie is fake, right? You’re not actually married, are you?”
“No, we’re not married.”
“And you’re not in a relationship?”
James pauses, and I hold my breath. “No, we’re not.”
I expel my breath as my shoulders slump. I know we’re not in a relationship, but I still hoped James would think differently.
Josh presses his older brother. “So, everything with Georgie is fake?”
“Yeah, it’s all fake. Everything is fake.”
My heart sputters, and then shatters, at his quiet admission.
What we have may be fake, but that doesn’t stop me from wanting it to be real.
I’ve spent the last week and a half missing James, counting the days until he came home, and the six weeks before that slowly, helplessly falling for my fake husband.
James is patient, kind, quiet, and unassuming.
Falling for him feels like how I imagine a lobster feels when it’s dropped into cool water on the stove, the heat rising so gradually you don’t realize you’re boiling until it’s too late.
And now, I’m the one cooked because James slipped past every defense I had.
Without even realizing it, my out-of-control crush has morphed into love.
Shit, how did this happen?
Falling in love with my fake husband was not on my bingo card.
Josh emits a low chuckle, the sound dark and hurtful. “It makes a lot more sense now. You’ve never been a guy to choose the fat girls before.”
The fat girls.
Hearing those words transports me back in time. I’ve heard variations of them all my life, some more cruel than others. Growing up, I didn’t let the catty comments bother me because I always had much bigger things to worry about.
But then I started sleeping with Nolan, and he systematically destroyed my self-esteem.
A year older than me, Nolan and I became friends over the course of the first semester of my freshman year of college, and I quickly developed feelings.
Nolan was everything I wasn’t but always longed to be.
He was popular, athletic, handsome, and wealthy.
His family name opened doors a poor girl like me could only ever dream of walking through.
With my self-confidence at an all-time low after Nana’s death and finding out about my mom’s second family, I ate up every scrap of attention Nolan threw my way.
At first, he showered me with compliments, but quickly, the kind words gave way to constant criticism. He wielded his words like weapons, and he knew just how to wound me with them.
It doesn’t flatter your figure and makes you look fat. I’d come home from the mall, so excited to show him the new dress I bought because I felt pretty in it. I never ended up wearing it.
Have you gained even more weight? He asked me as I was running out the door for a huge presentation for my marketing class. The whole time I was standing in front of the auditorium, I felt flustered, wondering if I looked fat.
Once when I told him how badly his comments hurt my feelings, he shifted the blame to me, complaining I was too sensitive. Imagine it from my perspective, Georgie. I’m the one who has to be seen with you out in public. It’s embarrassing.
Even though I’ve been broken up with Nolan for over eight months, the pain he inflicted on my psyche lingers. Hearing Josh’s mean description of my body type reopens those healing wounds. All those insecurities I tried to bury… Josh just went and dug up the grave.
My hands tighten into fists, my fingernails pressing into my flesh. The pain helps keep the tears at bay.
And I can’t even be mad at James because our relationship is fake. It’s all an act. Unlike Nolan, James never misled me.
I retreat from my hiding spot and wander into the nursery. I stand at Weston’s crib, watching him sleep, and remind myself why I’m here. I’m staying with James and pretending to be his wife so that I can provide a safe place for Weston until I can move out on my own.
So, I need to shove my feelings aside and put on my big girl panties—or as Josh would say, my fat girl panties. I need to paint a smile on my face and act as if everything is fine and dandy because I can’t afford to upset the dynamic James and I have established.
Fake it till I make it.
Overhearing the brothers’ conversation is yet another painful reminder that there is nothing romantic between James and me. The sooner I accept that fact, the better. If anything, I need to use this reminder to light a fire under my ass to get a job and start planning my move-out date.
But, damn, it hurt to hear their conversation. The tears I held in earlier begin to drip down my cheeks as my body shakes in silent sobs, mourning the loss of my fake marriage that I didn’t want to be fake.
Fuck.
I knew it was going to be painful when James pulled the plug on this little fairy tale, but I didn’t think it would hurt this much.