Chapter 27 James
James
After walking Georgie to the car, I amble back into the house, in no rush to continue the interrogation. With Georgie out of the house, I know they’re going to let loose on me now.
When I walk back in, Hayes is asking Josh, “You knew about all this?”
“Just found out the truth a week ago.”
“The fucker DNA tested Weston, so I had to tell him,” I admit with a chuckle as I take a seat on the couch next to my brother.
But then Annabelle drops a bomb, and my chuckle dies on my lips. “This isn’t fake, is it, James? At least not for you.”
Taking Weston from Josh, I cradle him to my chest, dropping my eyes to meet his big blue eyes that remind me so much of his mother’s. And I shake my head, murmuring, “No, it’s not fake as far as I’m concerned.”
Rowdy slumps against the back of the couch. “Fucking hell. I thought Hayes was a crazy motherfucker for becoming obsessed with his one-night stand, but this one takes the cake, James.”
Yep, I’m crazy. Or insane, as Georgie’s told me more than once.
But I also think that if this situation hadn’t unfolded as it did, if I hadn’t been forced to make the split-second decision to roll with the EMT’s assumption that Georgie and I were married, then I never would have had the courage to move forward in my life.
Watching my dad slowly lose himself to the bottle after the only woman he ever loved abandoned him, I swore I’d never allow myself to love someone the way my dad loved my mom. What did love ever give him? Nothing besides a lifetime of pain.
But then I held Weston in my arms, and I experienced a different kind of love. Primal and instinctive. He was so small, but so strong. A little fighter. Didn’t he deserve to have someone fighting for him?
From the beginning, I was attracted to Georgie, but living with her has chipped away at my resolve. She loves her son with a ferocity and devotion that my mom never showed us. That alone is enough to make me realize I can’t judge and punish all women for my mother’s crimes.
If I keep holding myself back from serious relationships, who am I really punishing? I’d only be hurting myself.
“What about Georgie? Is this real for her too?” asks Annabelle.
I exhale a heavy breath. “I think so, but she’s fighting it.” Scars from her childhood and from her past relationship with Weston’s biological father have her running scared.
I’m tempted to pick their brains and find out how to break down Georgie’s walls so we can have a real shot together. The playboy that he is, Josh won’t be much help, but the others might be.
So, with my heart in my hands, I admit, “I don’t know what to do to make her understand how I feel about her.”
“You’ve got to show her, man,” Rowdy muses. “Actions speak louder than words.”
“I have been showing her. I invited her to move in with me, I put my name on the birth certificate, I’m fixing up her truck, and I’m going to redecorate the guest room, so Weston has a proper nursery. I took her out on a lunch date, and I flirt with her any chance I get.”
Neglecting to mention our middle of the night orgasm sessions is a purposeful omission. What happens under the covers is private and isn’t information I want shared, even with my closest friends.
I whip off my baseball hat to run my fingers through my hair. “I don’t know what else to do.”
Then, Josh surprises me when he interjects, “Actions are important, sure, but so are words. Think about it, brother. You’re the least talkative of the group, so when you speak, your words hold more power.
Besides doing things for her, maybe she needs to hear you say what you’re thinking, what you’re feeling, too. ”
Char chimes in with a grimace, “As much as I hate to admit this, Josh has a point, James.”
Josh sits up straight, with an easy grin on his face. “Today in history, Charlotte Townsend agreed with me twice in one conversation.”
“Shut up,” Charlotte rolls her eyes.
Scratching his chin, Hayes says, “When we write songs, we tell a story. Do you know which part the fans love most?”
I frown, confused about where this conversation is headed. “The chorus.”
“Exactly. And do you know why?”
“It’s catchy?” I offer. Hayes and Rowdy are the songwriters, not me.
“It’s because the chorus repeats,” Hayes replies. “They hear it again and again throughout the song, so it’s the part that sticks. You need to come up with your chorus, James, and tell it to Georgie, over and over again. Until she remembers it… and believes it.”
Damn, maybe Doc is a fitting nickname for Hayes because he’s shooting off wisdom I didn’t know he possessed.
I mull over the idea. Perhaps they’re right. I won’t stop showing her how I feel, but maybe it’s time to tell her how I feel, too. As scary as it is to verbalize my feelings, I will for Georgie.
I need to come up with my chorus for our love song.
Bailey beams, clapping her hands. “This is why you’re doing the nursery, isn’t it? It’s not just to give Weston a space; you’re showing Georgie that you want this house to become her home. Her real home. You don’t want her to move out.”
Georgie grew up bouncing from house to house, so yeah, I want to show her I can provide both her and her son what she never had as a child—a home, a safe place, a permanent place to settle down.
“Yeah.”
“You romantic motherfucker,” Rowdy grins, looking pleased. “I didn’t know you had it in you. It’s always the quiet ones who take you by surprise.”
“I’ll be damned,” muses Hayes. “You’ve totally fallen for her, haven’t you?”
“Head over fucking heels, man.”
Char, who’s been typing away on her phone for the last few minutes, slips her phone into her purse and stands up to leave.
“I wish you hadn’t blindsided me with this situation, but…
I’m happy for you, James. And now, I’m going to go meet with the label’s PR team now so we can craft a statement.
I’ll shoot it over to you as soon as we’re finished with it.
Once approved, we’ll disseminate it to the media. ”
“Cool. Thanks, Char.”
“Hey, one more thing before you leave, Char,” Hayes says. “The holidays are coming up soon. Anybody up for Thanksgiving at the ranch this year?”
Ever since Hayes bought his ranch, which sits about two hours outside of Nashville, we’ve spent most of our holidays out there as a family. It’s nice to get out of the city and celebrate together.
Rowdy is the first one to speak up. “We’re out this year. We’re taking Ava to visit Bailey’s family for Thanksgiving.”
“Yeah, I’m not sure what Georgie’s plans are, but I wouldn’t count on us making it either.” I look at Josh, including him. “We can always do something small here at the house.”
Hayes nods. “With so many changes, I was assuming that holidays at the ranch may not happen this year, but we’d appreciate it if you could all make it down after Christmas.
” His eyes drift to Annabelle’s for a moment before continuing, “Annabelle and I have decided to get married on New Year’s Eve, and as our closest family members, we’d appreciate it if you all could be there to celebrate with us.
” Shifting his gaze toward me, he adds, “Georgie and Weston, too.”
After the meeting broke up, Annabelle and Bailey followed me into the workshop, where I’ve been storing all the boxes that have arrived for Weston’s nursery.
And then the three of us wrangled Josh, Rowdy, and Hayes into agreeing to help us so we can finish the room in a day or two.
We just need to wait until the last of the furniture arrives.
The hardest part of the project will be adding the molding to the walls and painting, but between the six of us, it should go quickly enough, especially if I can get some of it started while Georgie’s at work.
We make plans to reconvene next week, after I find out Georgie’s work schedule.
It’d be easier if I weren’t hellbent on making it a surprise, but I am.
Georgie hasn’t had many good surprises in her life, and I’d like to change that.
By that time, Weston was hungry again, so I fed him a bottle and changed his diaper. Since he isn’t mobile yet, I lay down a blanket under a tree in the backyard, so he can nap outside, listening to the sounds of nature, while I work on cleaning up the landscaping.
Syncing my phone, I play some music over the outdoor speakers and get to work watering and weeding the wildflower beds.
The flowers and plants change with the seasons.
Soon the daisies, coneflowers, and black-eyed Susans will give way to Madagascar periwinkle, garden cosmos, and birdeye speedwell.
I know plenty of people who prefer the artfully designed, carefully pruned flower beds planted with rows of roses bushes in perfect lines, but that’s not me.
Over time, I’ve come to appreciate the beauty found in things that aren’t picture-perfect. I love the wild and untamed, preferring something natural far more than anything artificial and fussy.
Maybe that’s why I prefer Georgie.
Immersed in my tasks, I lose track of time. But then I hear the back door open, and Georgie steps outside.
Squinting into the sunlight, I look up at her in all her radiance.
I see her softness and her strength, the way she continues to rise no matter what bullshit the world throws her way.
She bends but doesn’t break, and while she’s guarded, she isn’t bitter or jaded.
Throughout the difficulties of her life, she hasn’t lost her sweetness.
Georgie isn’t a carefully cultivated rose, pampered and sheltered. No, she’s like the wildflowers in my garden, never intended to exist much less flourish and bloom, but she does. Resilient, untamed, and so fucking beautiful.
“There y’all are. When I couldn’t find you inside, I figured you were out here or in your workshop.”
“Wasn’t expecting you back so soon.”
“Yeah, Deb’s wasn’t busy for lunch today, so I got let go early.”
I stand, dusting the dirt from the knees of my jeans before tugging my T-shirt over my head, using it to wipe the sweat from my face.
When I catch her looking at me, with lust in her eyes, as her gaze rolls lazily over my arms and chest, I act without a single thought.
Intercepting her as she moves toward the sleeping baby, I take her in my arms. Her eyes, the color of the sky on a cloudless day, widen as I look down at her. Her hand reaches up to rub her locket between her fingers like she does when she needs comfort. My eyes fall to her lips, rosy and plush.
Then, as Georgie emits a startled gasp, I crash my lips to hers.
At first, she stiffens, but then she melts, giving in to the kiss. Her soft curves press against me, and everything feels right.