Chapter 42
Georgie
Life is good.
Actually, life is better than good. It’s fantastic.
After a lifetime of bad luck, the universe has rewarded me by giving me a wonderful son and the best partner. I thought I’d been in love before, but being with James has shown me how wrong I was.
The tabloid put out James’ interview this past weekend, and it was received well.
Fans enjoyed that James and I are regular people, that I’m not a gold-digger who only married him for his money.
There were a few critical comments about my appearance since I don’t have the proportions of a Barbie doll, but an overwhelming number of positive comments drowned those out.
Readers said that it was refreshing to see someone who looked like them in a magazine.
That seeing James and me together made them believe in love again.
Those are the words I’m choosing to remember.
And I loved reading the half-truths James sprinkled into the interview.
But the best news we received was that Nolan signed the paperwork agreeing not to contact us and not to discuss anything having to do with me, our relationship, or Weston.
Putting that piece of the puzzle behind us was huge.
It was a tremendous relief. Nolan is no longer the threat hanging over my head, and James will always be recognized as Weston’s legal father.
Like I said, life is freaking fantastic.
Flipping on my blinker, I steer the Tahoe into Deb’s gravel parking lot.
Tomorrow is Thanksgiving, and our contractor has had a team of people working on updates to the building all week.
Since we closed the diner, Sheila took a well-earned vacation to visit family out of state, but she asked me to send her some photos of the changes.
I meant to get over here earlier, when we still had some daylight left, but I lost track of time.
I spent my day preparing our first Thanksgiving feast as a family, and this is the first opportunity I’ve had to run over to the diner to check the progress.
After James and I ate dinner, I left him to do the dishes and watch Weston while I hopped in the car.
Josh is coming over to hang out with James tonight, and he’s planning on celebrating Thanksgiving with us, too.
A few weeks ago, I would have been appalled at the idea of spending all day with the man, but he’s been treating me better lately.
I still haven’t forgotten what he said about me, but I’m willing to look past it since he’s James’ brother.
The parking lot is darker than normal because the diner’s interior lights are shut off and the old neon sign has been removed.
When I hop out of the car, I keep my car’s headlights on so I can better see the changes to the exterior.
The brick was power washed, taking off decades of grime, and restoring the brick to its original creamy color.
The trim has been painted a bright teal color to match the interior, and we’ve ordered a new neon sign with our updated pink and teal logo.
Flipping through my keys, I insert the key Sheila gave me into the front door and push it open, loving the familiar sound of the bell jangling overhead.
Inhaling, I breathe in the smells of paint and industrial-grade floor glue.
Never thought I’d enjoy those smells as much as I do right now.
When my fingers hit the light switch, all the interior changes come into focus.
The walls have been repainted in a friendly shade of pink, making the rest of the colorful interior pop.
The roof was patched, and the leak fixed, so the ceiling is now all one shade of white without any visible water stains.
New black-and-white checkerboard tiles grace the floors.
Laid out in the same pattern as the original floors, the new tiles are of much higher quality than the old floors, which were scuffed and cracked after decades of daily wear and tear.
Crossing the dining room, I enter the kitchen and see where most of the budget went: upgraded appliances.
Many of the old ones were twenty or even thirty years old and needed to be replaced.
The money we spent here won’t ever be seen by the public, but it was a necessary expenditure to keep the restaurant running smoothly.
Sheila and I have discussed replacing the booths, tables, chairs, and lunch counter, but those upgrades will wait until the second phase of renovations.
It made little sense to invest that kind of money in cosmetic changes without an established track record of success.
While the diner has experienced an uptick in customers since the articles came out linking Outlaw and me to Deb’s, Sheila and I want to be sure those numbers can be sustained before moving forward with more costly renovations.
Lights flash across the dining room windows as a car swings through the parking lot, grabbing my attention for a second, but then the car does a U-turn and drives out of my line of sight. Someone is probably using the empty parking lot as an easy place to turn around and get back on the highway.
I pull my phone from my pocket and walk around the diner, snapping photos, eager to share all the changes with James and Sheila.
When they first told me I was now the proud half-owner of Deb’s, I’d been excited…
and completely freaked out. James spent a lot of money to buy half of the diner, and accepting it made me uncomfortable.
Which, of course, he knew. That’s why he didn’t tell me beforehand.
Now, having had ten days to sit with the idea, my excitement far outweighs my unease.
I still plan to pay James back for his initial investment, but I appreciate his generosity and the reason behind it.
He didn’t just give me half ownership of a restaurant.
He gave me something I’ve never had before.
Financial security.
I’ll never again worry about living out of my truck and taking sink baths in Walmart restrooms.
Flicking off the lights, I lock the front door and walk toward my SUV with a little extra pep in my step.
Thinking about how good James is to me has me wanting to get home and repay him for his good deeds.
Maybe after Josh leaves tonight, we can try out some more of the new toys James bought for us to use.
We’ve already used several of them, but James is like a magician with an endless supply of sex toys. Just when I think I’ve seen them all, he pulls a brand-new one out of his magic hat. Or in James’ case, his magic dresser drawer.
I’m so consumed with lustful thoughts about James that I don’t pay attention to my surroundings. It takes me a moment to hear the rapid footsteps crunching across the gravel, costing me crucial seconds. When I realize what’s happening, it’s too late.
“You can’t escape me, Georgie,” Nolan taunts, stalking me with deliberate, predatory steps.
His dark eyes are wild, and the smile on his face is maniacal, stretching his lips to bare his teeth.
I freeze as Nolan grabs the phone from my hand, flinging it across the parking lot.
I open my mouth to scream, but nothing comes out.
Rushing at me, he grabs me by the throat, squeezing tightly and cutting off my air supply.
Nolan pushes me backward as I stumble and claw at his hand around my neck.
My body hits the brick building with a sickening thud, emptying the remaining air from my lungs.
Pain radiates down my spine and the back of my skull from the force of the impact.
Spittle flies from the corners of his mouth as Nolan screams, “You lying, cheating whore! Did you think you could make a fool out of me?”
His fingers coil around my neck, tightening like a boa constrictor, as I fight for even a single ragged breath of air. Black dots dance across my vision, and my lungs scream. Still clawing at his hands, I pull at his fingers, doing anything I can to get him to loosen his grip.
“Why did you even tell me the bastard was mine if you were fucking someone else?” he yells, his jaw clenching with every word.
He flings me to the side like a rag doll, and I land on my hands and knees, pebbles biting into my skin. Relief pours through me as I suck in a series of shallow breaths.
“I didn’t know,” I wheeze, my throat burning.
Each word that leaves my mouth feels like slivers of glass against my irritated throat. My brain isn’t working right, but I spit out the lie that James and the PR team came up with.
“I didn’t know it wasn’t your baby until the first ultrasound, and I was six weeks further along than I thought. Only then did I know it had to be James’ baby.”
No one outside of the hospital staff and the band knows Weston was born six weeks early. Since Nolan believes I went to that radio meet-and-greet with Outlaw, the timeline worked to my benefit.
Adrenaline flows through me, and my limbs shudder beneath me. I’m so close to my car. Is there any way I could reach it and get inside? My car keys are inside my pocket. If I can get enough of a head start, I might be able to unlock the doors and jump into the car before Nolan can stop me.
Before I stumble to my feet, Nolan is next to me again. Standing over me with a glower on his face, I flip onto my butt, scooting across the dirt, scrambling to get away from him.
But with every bit of distance I put between us, he closes it just as fast. “You ruined my life! My parents declared me dead to them, all my friends hate me, and it’s all your fucking fault, you bitch!”
“Stop it!” I cry, my limbs moving as quickly as they can.
“You deserve everything that’s coming to you, you fat cunt. If I never would have met you, none of this would have happened.” He grabs me by the hair, wrenching me onto my feet as I scream. “Shut up!”
Backhanding me across the cheek, the acrid smell of his alcohol-tinged breath fans hot across my face. Pain blooms across my cheek, yet it centers me.