Georgie woke up from a nap with thirty-one text messages and fourteen missed calls.
There was also a half-eaten granola bar stuck to her forehead, but that was beside the point.
She jerked into an upright position and picked a mini chocolate chip from where it had been embedded above her eyebrow, shrugging and popping it into her mouth.
She’d had a midmorning birthday party for a one-year-old, which should have been easy peasy, but both of the organizer’s sisters had come down with a cold, leaving no one to help decorate and serve food, so Georgie had pulled double duty. Made a nice tip out of the whole thing, too, though it had been unnecessary. She’d been far more grateful for the woman’s candor as they’d plated apple slices and ransacked the house for matches to light the birthday candles. They’d been in it together, as opposed to being employer and employee.
It had almost felt like her dating experiment with Travis was already working, but that couldn’t be right. Barely enough time had passed for people to find out—
Fully conscious now, she snatched up her phone again. Oh, this was it.
The Travis was out of the bag.
Leave it to her friends who hadn’t bothered to pick up a phone in months to be texting her now. They’d each messaged her five times.
You’re dating Travis Ford?
Have you . . . you know . . . met the second bat??
You’ve been holding out on us!
Georgie frowned down at her phone. Those kinds of questions weren’t out of the ordinary between her and her friends. But reading them made her feel hollow. There was no excitement to text them back and overshare, like they used to do about their boyfriends before time and distance caused a strain. It was all a hoax, so obviously there wasn’t that typical feminine urge to squeal to her friends.
It was more than that, though. Reading the messages, she could only think about the couple in the bar last night. How they’d treated Travis like a punch line and how he’d allowed it to happen—to a point—as if it were his due. Her irritation renewed, Georgie rose from the bed, continued to scroll through her plethora of messages and missed calls. Most of them were from her mother and she’d be taking the coward’s way out on that one. For now. Vivian Castle didn’t like to be left in the dark, so there would be a wave of passive aggression headed in Georgie’s direction. She’d cross that bridge when she came to it.
Bethany had called several times. No Stephen. Huh. She couldn’t decide if she was surprised or not by that. On the one hand, Stephen never bothered himself with her social life. On the other, Georgie was dating his best friend. At least that’s how it would appear. Had Travis told Stephen they were seeing each other? For some reason, the possibility of Travis taking that initiative gave Georgie butterflies.
Great, big, whopping ones. Which was stupid.
Although, maybe he’d told Stephen it was fake.
Those butterfly wings stopped flapping. Maybe that’s why Stephen wasn’t calling. He was just shaking his head in private over Georgie’s latest antics.
There was no time to think about it now. Tonight was the Just Us League meeting and there was no time like the present to face the firing squad, also known as her sister. She’d promised to be more forthcoming with Bethany, but would it be so bad to keep this secret to herself for now? To let everyone really believe she and Travis were an item?
Resolving to make the decision on the road, Georgie sped through a shower, threw on one of her new pairs of leggings and a loose V-neck. She shoved her feet into a pair of flats on the way out the door and made it to Bethany’s in record time. Before she walked through the front door, she took a deep breath and prepared for a barrage of questions. She got a sniff from her sister instead and an uh-oh look from Rosie.
“Uh, hey.”
That set off Bethany. Her sister pinched the bridge of her nose and paced the length of her kitchen. “Uh, hey? A photo of you kissing Travis Ford in the parking lot of the Waterfront goes fucking viral and you just stop answering your phone?”
In her nap haze and rush to get out of the house, she’d completely neglected to research how everyone had found out about her and Travis. “Which photo is this?”
“Take your pick! There’s like . . .” Bethany snatched an iPad off the marble countertop and swiped across the screen with a furious finger. “Eleven. Twelve—”
Oh no. This is bigger than I thought it would be. Georgie’s stomach pitched as she crossed the room. “Let me see.” One glance at the screen and she was rolling her eyes. “This isn’t viral. This is the Port Times Record.”
“It’s viral for Port Jefferson,” Bethany shot back. “And the picture where you’re telling off that man in the bar made SportsCenter, so it’s not contained to the local news. It was on Plays of the Week, Georgie. Mom said Dad almost choked on a chicken bone.”
Georgie hopped up onto a kitchen stool, marveling over the face staring back at her from the glass screen. Was that her looking so fiercely passionate? Yes, it was. And she couldn’t find it in her to regret defending Travis. Not for a second. Her belly couldn’t help but flip at the kissing picture, even though she knew the sentiment behind it was contrived. Their affection was all for the camera. Her heart started pounding nonetheless when she landed on the final picture. Travis staring after her in the parking lot with an expression she’d never seen on his gorgeous face before. Maybe it was the camera angle. Travis would never be wistful for her. Not in this lifetime. “Um,” she rasped. “So Dad choked on a chicken bone?”
Bethany slapped her hands on the counter. “What is going on?”
“We went on a date.” Looking for an ally, Georgie turned to Rosie, who feigned fascination with an untouched shot glass of tequila. “We decided that was allowed.”
“It is. But him, Georgie? Travis?”
“Yes. Travis.” Indignation rose up in her swift and furious. It wasn’t just the couple in the bar. It was everyone, wasn’t it? The whole world thought of him as some brainless sex symbol. So much so that he had to date the town’s dopey birthday party clown so people would . . . take him seriously. They both wanted the exact same thing, didn’t they? That did it. She wouldn’t tell a single soul their relationship wasn’t real. She’d be out and proud about her fake boyfriend. “You haven’t spent time with him since he came back. He’s done being thought of as a player.”
“Yeah, but is he done being one?” Bethany gave a long exhale. Georgie could tell she was dying to put in another two cents, but she managed to refrain. “I’m guessing you haven’t spoken to Mom. She has dibs on this kind of information and ESPN scooped her. You’re going to get Guilt Face at Sunday dinner next weekend.”
Georgie started. Their family was close, but with everyone so busy, their dinners were more of the spontaneous variety. Georgie would pop in for lunch or Stephen would bring bagels by and fill their father’s need for business talk. Formal dinners with everyone in attendance occurred only when someone organized a summit. “Sunday dinner? Who called it?”
“Me. I’m breaking the news to everyone that I’m striking out on my own.” Bethany sent Georgie a look down her nose. “If you’d been here on time, you’d know that.”
“Sorry. I’ll be there. Solidarity and all that. Yada yada.”
“Are you bringing Travis?”
Her skin flushed. Bring Travis to a family dinner? Why not just hang herself in a museum so everyone could walk by and pick her apart? “I’ll ask him.”
Rosie rubbed a circle into her back. “Did you go on your date with the fireplace guy?”
“No. Something came up,” she hedged. And looking over at Rosie and her soft, encouraging expression, Georgie encountered a swift kick of guilt. “Rosie, I have to tell you something. I really have no excuse for not calling you sooner . . . I’ve just been so distracted. But you can punch me in the stomach afterward, if you need to.”
Rosie drew back her hand slowly. “What is it?”
“Dominic knows about the newspapers under the mattress. He mentioned it to Travis.” She gave her friend an apologetic look. “You need to find a new hiding spot.”
Two spots of color appeared on Rosie’s cheeks. “Oh.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Why should you be sorry?” Rosie gestured to the bottle of tequila with the international symbol for “pour.” “I mean, you’re not the grown man ignoring his wife, instead of just asking her questions and having a normal conversation. That would be too much to ask for. Stupid . . . jackass.”
Rosie slapped a hand over her mouth.
After pouring a round of shots, Bethany picked up a pen and scratched some notes on a nearby legal pad. “We’re going to have to meet twice this week. No way we can cover cock talk and get important things done—”
“Bethany?” Georgie said.
“What?”
“Lose the agenda.”
Her older sister primly set aside the work pad. “Might I suggest, Rosie, that instead of hiding newspapers under the mattress, tomorrow you leave a dead rat in their place?”
“I was thinking more along the lines of my vibrator. It’s capable of more affection than Dominic lately.” Rosie split a look between them. “Tequila makes me overshare.”
“We’re here to overshare. It’s encouraged,” Georgie murmured, sympathy for Rosie’s obvious relationship troubles swimming in her stomach. “Did you find a commercial space for the restaurant yet?”
“There’s one,” Rosie whispered. “There’s one I like. But I’m not ready to . . .” She shook her head. “I’m not ready yet. I’m good with my newspapers for now.”
The front door of Bethany’s house blew open, Kristin breezing in with a basket full of muffins. “Hello, ladies,” she twanged in her Georgia accent. “I heard y’all were having a meeting tonight and I came by to join the club.”
Bethany narrowed her eyes at their sister-in-law, who was making herself busy at the kitchen bar, putting muffins on plates. “How did you know about the club?”
“Stephen found out from your mama.”
“Shit,” Bethany muttered. “Why do we tell that woman anything? She’s like a colander and yet we continue to pour in information.”
“So this is about thumbing our nose at men, right?” Kristin trilled excitedly, sliding onto a stool at the island in one graceful motion while balancing three plates of muffins. “If so, count me in. I’m leaving your brother. He’s really done it this time.”
Georgie bit her bottom lip to keep from laughing. “What did Stephen do?”
Kristin huffed. “I made him lunch to bring to work this morning. Pecan chicken, fresh-baked rolls, and a cucumber salad. Do you know he left it in the fridge?” She set down the plates with a clatter, balled up her fists, and perched them on her knees. “I would have forgiven him, only he came home from work tonight and didn’t say anything about it. Nothing about how he suffered without my chicken or how terrible his fast-food replacement lunch was. Not a darn thing. So I waited until he got in the shower and I left. I won’t be underappreciated.”
“Kristin,” Rosie started. “Maybe he just had that tired work brain. He probably would have opened the fridge sooner or later and remembered he forgot to take your chicken.”
“Also,” Bethany chimed in with mock sincerity, “we’re literally talking about chicken here, so—”
“Pecan chicken,” Georgie cut in smoothly, patting Kristin’s arm and trying not to show how ridiculous she found the complaint. “One of his favorites, right, Kristin?”
“I don’t know.” She looked up at the ceiling. “I just don’t know anymore.”
Across the circle, Bethany mouthed a silent countdown. Three, two . . .
Outside the house, a vehicle screeched to a halt, followed by a door slamming and angry boot steps storming up the walkway. The door to Bethany’s house opened without preamble and in stormed their brother in flannel pajama pants and a sweatshirt, his hair still wet from the shower. “Get in the truck, Kristin.”
His wife stood her ground—or sat it, rather—refusing to turn and look at him. “You’ve done it this time,” she called dramatically. “Enjoy your life of deep-fried potatoes and fake meat.”
Stephen pointed at Bethany. “This is your fault. Putting ideas into her head.”
“You’re the one that forgot her pecan chicken!” Bethany burst out. “That shit is important.”
“Oh, now she thinks so,” Georgie drawled, reaching for the tequila.
“You’re one to talk, Georgie. This”—he waved an angry hand around—“girls’ club has taken away your common sense.”
Georgie ignored the twinge of pain in her chest, keeping her features schooled as she filled the glasses. “I’m guessing you saw the pictures.”
“Don’t remind me. I saw them coming and I still want to blind myself.”
Hope replaced the discomfort in her chest, floating up like a dozen balloons. “You saw them coming? How?”
“Travis told me you were seeing each other a couple of days ago.” He continued on as if he hadn’t made his sister capable of floating up to the moon. “It was only a matter of time before everyone took an interest. You’re not exactly a likely pair. For good reason.”
Bethany muscled up to her side, shooting a glare in Stephen’s direction. “Don’t take that line of thought any further. She’s heard enough for tonight.”
A flicker of nerves—maybe even sympathy—passed across her brother’s face. “He’s going to chew you up and spit you out, Georgie.”
“That’s my problem, Stephen. Not yours,” Georgie returned, her voice vibrating. And damn, it felt good to not only stand up to her brother, but to have him reevaluate her with a look. That’s right. I’m not just your dopey little sister.
“Fine,” Stephen finally grumbled. “I’ve got my own problems to deal with right now.”
Kristin shot to her feet. “Oh, I’m a problem now?”
“No. No, honey, I . . .” Stephen shoved a hand through his wet hair. “Can we talk about this at home?”
His wife crossed her arms and waited.
Their brother shifted in his boots. “I missed your chicken like hell, Kristin. I was going to tell you all about how leaving it behind ruined my day, but then I got to looking at the calendar. You know, the one that says when you’re . . .” He cleared his throat loudly. “It says when you’re, you know, ovulating. So I was trying to get the day cleaned off as fast as I could, so we could . . . uh. I wanted to—”
“I think we’re good here,” Georgie said, raising her hand. “I’m pretty clear on what happened and don’t need any more details. Who’s with me?”
Everyone’s hand went up besides Kristin’s and Stephen’s.
“You may take me home now, Stephen Castle,” Kristin said, lifting her chin. “Girls, you can keep the muffins.”
She’d barely finished her sentence before Stephen scooped up his wife and left the way he’d come, kicking the door shut and leaving the room awash in silence. Georgie’s pulse was still pounding a thousand miles an hour in her ears, though. Travis hadn’t told Stephen anything about their plan. Her brother couldn’t lie for shit, so that much was obvious. He’d kept their secret. He’d respected her feelings without her having to ask. It made Georgie all the more determined to rock her end of the bargain. To validate Travis’s hopes the way he was doing for her. To be on his team. In order to do that, she needed to know more about him. The things she’d missed through the lens of youth.
“You guys were in Travis’s grade, so you remember what happened with his parents. I was younger, so the details are a little blurry.” She laughed without humor as something occurred to her. “Actually, it might be the one thing we haven’t spoken about.”
Bethany winced. “It was a pretty nasty divorce. I remember overhearing Mom and Dad talking about it.”
“Nasty how?”
“There was a custody battle. Neither parent was happy with the decision, so they kind of used him to piss each other off.” Bethany frowned. “Ugh, this is making me feel bad for being mean to him. Subject change soon, okay?”
“I was so wrapped up in Dominic back then, everything else is a blur,” Rosie said. “But I do remember him always needing a ride to school. He’d show up on foot some days, on the bus others. Sometimes your mother brought him. Rarely his own parents.”
“He got passed around a lot,” Bethany added. “There was no real . . . stability.”
“Passed around,” Georgie echoed quietly, her pulse slowing along with time, thudding in a morose pattern. “That’s awful.”
You’ve always been my wife’s hall pass. Those remembered words from the night before brought back a whole host of memories. Travis pictured with another woman every day of the week in the newspapers, during those early days of his career. Until he simply wasn’t anymore. Around the same time, he’d started getting passed between teams faster than he could probably decorate his locker.
Passed around.
I’m no one’s entertainment anymore.
Had Travis ever had a stable relationship in his life? Did he know what one looked like?
Had anyone ever made him feel worthy of a lasting one?
She’d always held to the truth that Travis was her soul mate. That was before she knew him, though. Those beliefs were founded on a childhood crush. What she’d begun feeling for Travis since he returned home? That wasn’t in the same league. That had depth and . . . fears attached.
Georgie didn’t hold any illusions that she could be Travis’s one. But she couldn’t deny an odd sense of responsibility to prove to Travis he was worthy of finding and keeping his one. Even if it wasn’t her. When no one else had been up to the task of forcibly removing Travis from his downward spiral, she’d thrown lo mein at his head. Did she have the courage to take one more step?
They might be in a fake relationship. What if she could make it feel real?
Real enough that Travis realized what he was capable of.
“Georgie, are you okay?”
“Yeah.” Georgie tapped her lip. “Um . . . what’s next on your infamous agenda?”
But as Bethany perked up and started to read from her clipboard, Georgie was forming her own.
