From the neck down, Georgie looked like dynamite. Everything above that?
Not so much.
She’d been saving the little black dress for a special occasion. The one-week anniversary of the world’s most traumatic breakup seemed special enough, right? Granted, no one besides the Just Us League ladies would see her wearing it, but the fitted silk material made her feel better. For, like, a full five seconds. Her longest streak yet!
Oh God. She shut down the camera app she’d been using as a mirror and dropped the cell into her lap. Through the windshield, she watched Bethany and Rosie flit back and forth in front of the living room window, preparing the house for the meeting. Georgie should have been in there helping them, but her sister and Rosie would take one look at her gaunt cheeks and sunken eyes and know she’d been a sobbing insomniac, despite her reassuring texts to the contrary. Plus, it would take so much energy to get out of the car and walk all the way to the front door. She’d have to fill chip bowls and uncork wine . . .
Georgie dropped her head back against the seat and groaned.
It was unbelievable how much she missed Travis even after everything. By sheer force of will, she’d gotten out of bed every morning, returned client phone calls, and booked an exciting number of parties, for both herself and the new entertainers. She might have sunk to the lowest pit of despair, but the new, improved Georgie wouldn’t wallow there. People were counting on her. And yeah, pride was a huge motivator, too. She’d stood in front of these women and defended Travis, but that zeal had been misplaced—a mistake she would walk in and own. If she didn’t own it now, she’d hide forever.
The temptation to do exactly that was so strong, though. God. What an absolute fool she’d been. She’d been blind, no idea that her secrets weren’t secrets. That the person who’d been encouraging her didn’t think she was smart enough to know her own heart.
How could he hold her in his arms so tightly through the night, knowing her feelings far exceeded his own? How dare he. How dare he give her some illusion he never intended to keep up.
Despite all of this, she needed him. Half of her soul felt torn away.
For what seemed like the millionth time, she closed her eyes tight and remembered the kisses, the hugs, the laughing, playing baseball in the rain. The way she’d felt about Travis had been right there all along, plain as day. Georgie might have tried to play it cool, but it was an inherent part of her. Every moment of their time together, she’d been expressing that love. Dropping off leftovers, encouraging him, throwing food at his head. Her heart had created an extra chamber for loving Travis Ford. The fact that he’d borne witness to it and continued to doubt made those feelings seem invalid.
Georgie’s body moved with an awful lethargy as she climbed out of the car, careful not to trip over her own feet on the brick path. High heels hadn’t been the best idea, considering her legs weren’t working right. Just like the rest of Georgie, her limbs moved at a sluggish pace. Her hand lifted to the doorknob like it was submerged in a jar of Vaseline.
The door swung open before she was halfway through the process, and Georgie lost her balance, sending her pitching forward. Bethany and Rosie caught her, the simple human contact sending a shock wave of sorrow through her.
“I’m not good.”
“I know, honey,” Bethany said, helping her straighten and pulling her back into a hug. But not before she got a decent look at Georgie’s face. “Oh shit. No worries. I’ve got a bottle of concealer upstairs that could hide the spots on a fucking cow.”
Rosie rubbed a circle on her back. “How about a drink?”
“No, thanks. It’ll only make things worse.” She pulled away from her sister. “Maybe just, like, a half a glass of literally anything?”
“I’ll grab some glasses and a bottle and meet you guys upstairs,” Bethany said, giving her shoulder a final squeeze. “We’ve got more than enough time before everyone arrives.”
Georgie and Rosie made their way upstairs, going straight for Bethany’s en suite bathroom. She sat on the edge of the bathtub, instantly comforted by the luxurious cream-striped wallpaper and matching fluffy towels. The little notches in the wall where candles flickered gave off a glow and the scent of pears and freesia. Growing up, Bethany had always bemoaned sharing a bathroom with her siblings, vowing to have her own private bathing palace one day. Mission accomplished. Throw in a minifridge and it would be livable.
“I know your mind is all over the place right now,” Rosie said in a soft voice, dropping into an elegant lean against the wall. “But . . . Georgie, I can’t thank you enough. We hit the donation goal early this morning. For the restaurant.”
“What?” Georgie gasped, the storm clouds parting. “No way. Oh my God, Rosie. That’s fantastic.” She shot off the tub, throwing both arms around her friend. “Of course you hit the goal once word of mouth got around.”
“I can’t believe it,” Rosie whispered. “I can’t believe that many want to come to my restaurant. Bad enough to put money where their mouth is.”
“I can believe it,” Georgie said, easing away. “Lots of work ahead.”
Rosie blew out a breath. “Yes.”
“We’ll help you,” Bethany said with a radiant smile as she walked into the bathroom, balancing a tray of champagne and three glasses. “It’ll make me feel less guilty when I put you two in hard hats for demo day.” With a twist of her wrist, she popped the cork. “I’ve got myself a house.”
Georgie spun toward her sister. “You—how?” With too many emotions to compute in one day, her laughter was watery, but her pleasure was genuine. “Did Stephen cave?”
“No.” Bethany pushed Georgie back down onto the lip of the bathtub and handed her a glass of champagne. “Travis Ford handed me the key to his childhood house. Gave me permission to flip and sell it, free and clear.”
Hearing his name out loud was a one-two punch to the sternum. All she could do was sit there and breathe in, out, in, out. He’d done what? “I don’t understand,” she finally whispered. “Why would he do that?”
Bethany rolled her eyes. “He said it was important to you that I succeed. Or something. I wasn’t really listening.” She set down her champagne glass and dragged over a designer makeup bag. “Let’s get to work on those dark circles, shall we—”
“Wait a second.” Georgie couldn’t even feel the glass between her fingers. “He just came here and . . . Was he . . . Did he . . .”
Georgie’s sister squirted some beige foundation onto the back of her hand and ran a silver-tipped brush through it, applying the cool liquid to Georgie’s face. “Like I said, I was kind of half listening. He’d interrupted Drag Race, which is a cardinal sin in my house.” She tilted her head, swiping the brush in a neat line between Georgie’s brows. “Hopefully someone is doing his concealer, because he looked like S-H-I-T.” Georgie wanted to sink back into the empty bathtub and curl into a ball hearing that. “Honestly, it was all so sappy. Georgie this, Georgie that. Georgie is so good. I’m done living in the past. Et cetera.”
“Et cetera?”
“Yeah. Et cetera.” Done with the brush, Bethany stowed it back in the makeup bag and drew out a gray stick, the function of which Georgie did not know. But she sat there gaping as Bethany swiped it beneath her cheekbones and started to rub it in. “When I pulled the deed, I realized his father’s name is listed on it, too. Turns out Mark Ford was back in town for a few days to make sure he got a cut. There were words exchanged at Grumpy Tom’s.”
“Travis’s father was back?” Georgie sputtered. “Why didn’t anyone tell me?”
Was this the part of the equation that had been missing? She’d been so mired in heartache, she hadn’t stopped to think about why Travis would have called her a kid with a crush. Maybe there was a reasonable explanation. He’d still left her in the dark about what Stephen told him, but shouldn’t she have given Travis a chance to explain? With his father in town, he would have been in a tailspin. And he had canceled their date the night before the Tough Mudder . . .
“I mean, it’s all just noise at this point, right?” Bethany said breezily. “He messed up too big. It’s done.”
Georgie threw Rosie a look that said, Help me. “Um.” Rosie nodded at her in the universal sign for I got you. “What else did he say? It’s totally common to want a play-by-play when a guy talks about you. There had to be more.”
“Nope, that was it. He looked like garbage and gave me a house.” She applied some mascara to Georgie’s lashes. “Oh, and Georgie this, Georgie that.”
“Be more specific!” Georgie screeched.
“Drag Race was on,” Bethany said defensively. “Okay, look in the mirror.”
Fully intending to ignore the command and strangle her sister instead, Georgie nonetheless caught sight of her reflection and did a double take. “Oh, that’s—wow.”
“Not bad, right?”
“How did you—”
“Contouring. Georgie, meet your cheekbones.”
“Hi, cheekbones,” she murmured, then snapped back to reality. “Bethany—”
Downstairs, the doorbell rang. Even through the bathroom window, Georgie could hear the excited voices of the women outside. Her sister shrugged and pranced from the bathroom, leaving the candles to flicker in her wake.
“Can you believe that?” Georgie asked Rosie in a high-pitched voice. “I’m supposed to just be satisfied with ‘this and that’?”
Before Rosie could answer, raised voices from downstairs captured their attention. The sound of a cheering crowd ripped its way up to the second floor, but it had the force of thousands behind it and surely wasn’t coming from the arriving guests. Georgie thought she caught the corner of Rosie’s mouth tilting into a smile, but it vanished so fast, she must have been mistaken.
“What is that?”
Rosie gave her a bland look. “Go find out.”
Moments later, Georgie descended the stairs into the rapidly filling living room, finding everyone crowded around the television, also known as the source of the cheering. Able to recognize the sounds of a baseball game in her sleep, Georgie stopped short. How could she have forgotten? Today was a home game for the Bombers—and Travis’s official start as their new voice. Her pulse tripped all over itself as she waded through the throng of women, each of them watching her pass on the way to a front-row seat.
There he was. Her fake ex-boyfriend. His sinfully good-looking face filled the screen with an expression more somber than usual. At least more somber than he’d been during their phony relationship. Or was that just wishful thinking that he’d been happy? No. No, it wasn’t. But now a strain played around his eyes and the corners of his mouth, even as he responded to questions from the cohost welcoming him.
“I speak on behalf of the Bombers organization when I say we missed seeing your face on television and we’re looking forward to seeing a lot more of it.”
“Thank you,” Travis said, clearing the rasp from his voice. “Honored to be here.”
“I understand you brought someone along with you today.”
“Yes, I did.” The camera panned out to reveal a dozen awestruck faces of teenage boys in uniforms, one of whom Georgie recognized as the kid who’d delivered their chicken parm. “Doing the play-by-play for the Bombers isn’t my only job. This is the Port Jefferson High School baseball team, and I’m going to be working with them in the off-season. I didn’t think they’d mind watching the game from the booth today.”
Resounding agreements went up from the students, making the cohost laugh. “Something tells me you’re right.” He shifted in his seat, visibly changing gears with a jocular smile. “Now, there wasn’t always a time Travis Ford would have been considered mentor material for the younger generation.” Travis gave him a wry smile but didn’t respond. “What changed?”
Travis flicked an intense look at the camera. “I met Georgie Castle.”
A gasp went up in the living room, hands reaching out to steady her from all directions.
“I’ve met her twice in my life. This time, I was smart enough to fall in love with her.” He took out his earpiece and swiped a hand through his hair. “She taught me more about myself than I ever learned with a bat in my hands. She’s the reason I’m sitting here right now.” With a deep breath, he looked into the camera. Right at her. “I didn’t think anyone could love a broken-down has-been like me. That’s why I didn’t believe you actually loved me. I do now. You made me believe I’m worthy of it. And if I can be worthy of you, I’d consider that my life’s greatest accomplishment.” He paused. “I’m in love with you, baby girl. I want you for my wife. You think I’ll stop at building you a mantel? I’ll work every day to build my girl the life she deserves. If you give me the chance. Marry me, Georgie.”
Georgie pitched forward, the wind leaving her. Dizzy, she caught herself on the television stand. Around her, the Just Us League was going absolutely mad, draining cocktails before they could be fully poured and repeating Travis’s words in total swoon mode. Was this really happening? She pinched her forearm and yelped in pain, her hands flying to her mouth. Oh my God. Travis loved her. And not the Travis Ford who’d stared down at her from a glossy ceiling poster. The man behind the uniform. The most incredible man on the planet. Tears filled her vision and she turned in circles, about to burst from the pressure of love filling her rib cage. “What do I do now?”
“Do you love him back?”
“Of course I do!”
Bethany stepped forward. “It’s only the third inning.” With a knowing smirk, she tossed Georgie her purse. “Bye, bitch.”
Georgie choked on a sob and spun for the door, only to be brought up short by Stephen. He stood at the edge of the crowd. Based on his relieved—and regretful—expression, he’d heard Travis’s declaration of love on live television. “I’ve been wrong a lot lately,” her brother said, jerking his chin in the direction of the door. “Come on. I’ll drive you.”
Travis sat at the front of the bus, bent at the waist, head in his hands. Behind him, the Port Jeff baseball team repeated Bombers chants, high off their VIP status at the game. They tried to make him join in, but he was frozen in time. For all the time he’d spent planning his proposal to Georgie, like an idiot he hadn’t taken into account how long he’d be required to wait for an answer.
Had Bethany followed through on her end of the bargain and gotten Georgie to watch his debut in the booth? If so, why hadn’t Georgie called him? Granted, it would be more poignant to accept his proposal in person. Then again, maybe she hadn’t wanted to reject him on the air. Basically his fate hung in the balance as the bus he’d rented trundled down the Northern State Parkway. And when it slowed to a stop, blocked by bumper-to-bumper traffic, Travis couldn’t take it anymore. He extricated his cell phone from his pocket, preparing to dial Georgie’s number.
Her name and a picture of her in his Hurricanes jersey popped up on the screen.
Wait. She was calling him?
“Georgie?” Travis answered, standing up at his seat, the low tin roof keeping him stooped over. “Say something, baby girl. Please. I miss your voice.”
“I miss yours, too,” she whispered, sending relief cascading through his middle. “I thought I could make it to the stadium in time, but there’s all this traffic—”
His laugh didn’t hold a trace of humor. “I’m on my way to Port Jeff. Can you turn around?” He fell back into the seat, covering his eyes with a hand. “I need you to be there when I get off this bus. If I have to go another hour without seeing you, I’m going to die.” He braced himself. “Did you watch the game? Did you hear what I said?”
“Yes. Travis, I—”
A horn honked on the parkway, drowning out what she said. But the beep came from two places. The road . . . and the other end of the line. “Georgie. Where are you?”
“On the Northern State Parkway. Near the Brush Hollow Road exit.”
An incredulous sound fell from his mouth. He turned in the seat and scanned the westbound lanes on the other side of the divider. Neither side of the expressway was moving, not an unusual occurrence this close to Manhattan. It took Travis a few frantic seconds of searching, but he finally caught sight of a vehicle he never thought he’d be happy to see.
Stephen’s fucking minivan.
“Don’t move, baby girl. I’m coming to you.” He hung up and pocketed the phone, despite Georgie’s exclamation on the other end. Yeah, fine. It was pretty insane to get out of the bus in the middle of the expressway. And probably illegal. Ask Travis if he cared. When he said he’d die without seeing Georgie, his heart had backed him up. It ached like a son of a bitch as he hopped the divider and ran for the minivan, need and determination building with every step.
She didn’t see Travis coming until he was a few steps away, her eyes flying wide on the other side of the passenger window. Her door flew open, her feet hit the pavement, and she threw herself into his arms, sending him stumbling back a step onto the shoulder.
“You’re insane,” she breathed into his neck. “You’re insane and I love you.”
The ground moved under his feet. “Present tense, right? Love not loved.”
“Loved and love. Both.” She looked him in the eye. “I’ve loved and love you in every single way.”
Thanking the man upstairs with a whispered prayer, Travis eased back just enough to take her face in his hands. “I said those things to my father because he poisons everything he touches. He can poison anything he wants, except you. I couldn’t stand your name in his mouth. I couldn’t let him focus on you for a second, so I said something awful I didn’t mean. I’m so fucking sorry.”
“I know. I understand.” She wrapped her arms around his neck, allowing him to lift her off the ground. “I’m sorry you had to face him alone.”
“I’m strongest when you’re around, but I’m going to get better at using that strength, even when you’re not standing beside me.” He laid the first of many kisses on her lips, almost drowning in the perfection of her taste. “If I ever start to lose strength again, I’ll just think of how it felt to lose the girl who loved me, even when I couldn’t love myself.
“And if you say yes to marrying me . . .” He had to stop for a breath. “If you say yes, Georgie, we’re going to live the next five, six decades out together. We’re going to fight and make up a thousand times. And we’re going to have babies. I want to have babies with you, more than anything, because you make me believe I can. Be a father. Be a good husband to you.” He dropped his face into the base of her neck and was reassured by the chaotic rhythm of her pulse. “Say yes,” he whispered. “Please, baby girl. Be my wife.”
Moisture filled her eyes. “Yes, Travis Ford. There isn’t a single other person on this planet I could imagine those things with. I’ll marry you,” she breathed. “At least long enough for you to finish my fireplace—”
His laugh booming across the expressway, Travis wrapped her in a hug and swept her off the ground. “You said yes. Thank God.” He staggered a little. “I thought I was fucked.”
Around them, horns started to honk. One at a time, until it became a cacophony of noise. Clapping and whistling reached them through rolled-down windows. His relief and joy turned everything to a blur, though, and he promptly forgot about their surroundings, despite the loud ruckus taking place. He drew her hand up to his mouth, kissing her knuckles and palm, before sliding on the ring he’d been keeping in his shirt pocket, as even louder cheers and beeps erupted around them. Travis leaned in to breathe with an open mouth against her neck, his hands riding dangerously low on the small of her back. “You just wait until I get you home, baby girl.” He drew her up onto her toes, grazing her neck with the barest hint of teeth. “I’m going to put you against a wall and—”
“All right. I think we get the idea,” said a dry male voice.
Travis turned his head to find Stephen at the wheel of the minivan, the other man clearly battling a smile. “Fine, I’ll be your best man. You don’t have to beg.”
Travis swallowed and brushed the hair back from Georgie’s face. “Thanks, man.” He looked at Stephen. “I’ll make sure she knows every single day that she’s the air I breathe. That’s a promise.”
Suspiciously teary-eyed, Georgie’s brother gave a brisk nod and rolled up the window.
Leaving Travis and Georgie kissing on the shoulder, long after the traffic cleared.
