“Of course it’s a fucking problem,” he shouted, stepping toward her. “This is a bullshit fucking holiday. The only thing it does is remind people of what they don’t have. Pretending to be grateful, and happy, and like everything is just fine.”
“Is…is this about Hannah?” she choked out. Holden hadn’t shared much about her, other than that she passed, along with their unborn child. The only thing she knew about her death was that it’d been a home invasion gone wrong. Had that happened on Thanksgiving?
Holden jerked at the sound of her name, and Gigi knew she was right. But also so very wrong. Because the sound of his wife’s name seemed to hurt him like a physical blow. He staggered sideways, colliding with the counter. His elbow made contact with the roasting pan. It jerked sideways, skidding, and then hit the tile floor with a deafening clatter. The greased-up turkey popped out of the pan and slid across the floor, like the stone along the ice in a curling match. It hit the wall on the far side of the kitchen with a thud, leaving a greasy mark on the wall.
Holden let out a loud, primal yell, raking his hands through his hair again. Part of him looked like he couldn’t believe he’d just caused so much chaos, while another part of him looked like he wanted to cause even more. Gigi didn’t wait to see what he did next. She didn’t need to be a part of this rage or stand around trying to help. She knew better than to be in the way.
Turning on her heel as fast as she could, she bolted out of the kitchen, through the dining and living room, and straight up to her room. As soon as she had her bedroom door closed, she twisted the old-fashioned key that sat in the keyhole and locked the door. Turning around so her back was against it, she slid down to the floor, her body shaking as she fought back the sobs.
I just left the devil I knew, only to find the devil I didn’t…
12
Gigi
The sound of the front door slamming shut didn’t do much to stop Gigi’s heart from racing. Sitting there, crumpled up against her locked bedroom door, she tried to remind herself that this was not the same as what she left behind in Atlanta. Holden was not Bradley.
Although what had just gone down in the kitchen was still running through her mind, trying to convince her otherwise.
Gigi had learned quickly enough what Bradley’s triggers were. The problem was, the list was extensive. Anything from being cut off in traffic to something having gone wrong at the office was enough to set off his temper. His usual outburst generally only consisted of some harsh words about just how much of a failure Gigi was in his eyes. How the only thing she was good for was looking pretty and making him look good in the process. He’d cut her down every chance he got. No matter what it was she was doing, he told her all about how she was probably going to fail at that.
Unless he was drinking.
If Bradley had alcohol flowing through him, all bets were off. And in the last couple of years of their marriage, there were very few times he was home and didn’t have some kind of drink in his hand. All he needed was a little “liquid courage” to strip away all sense of decency and unleash the monster inside him.
“Are you incapable of doing anything correctly?” Bradley had blustered as he stormed into the library of their Atlanta townhouse.
Gigi slowly placed her bookmark in her well-loved copy of Caulfield Montgomery’s At Midnight, before she slid it onto the small table next to her. She had no idea what he was upset about now, but it didn’t really matter. She managed to find a new way to screw up every day it seemed like, so it really could have been anything.
“What’s the matter?” she’d asked, trying to make herself sound more concerned than frightened. Fear only seemed to fuel his anger even more. As if she should somehow not be afraid of him and his moods. It was her fault after all, or at least that was what he liked to tell her. If she could only do things properly, then he wouldn’t have to be the bad guy.
“What’s the matter? How dare you ask that. How dare you sit in here and act like you don’t know.”
“I don’t know, Bradley,” she’d told him, her mind scrambling to figure out what it could possibly be. She had spent all day with the committee for the Southern Children’s Comfort Fund going over last-minute details for their annual event, Hearts and Heels, that coming weekend. She’d been gone longer than she had expected, since there had almost been an issue with the table settings, but she’d still made it home in time to make sure that everything had been cleaned or fixed as needed that day. Dinner had also been ready promptly at seven, just the way Bradley insisted. Not that he had been home until well over an hour later.
“My crimson pinstripe shirt, ring a bell?”
“It’s at the dry cleaners. It will be ready tomorrow.” She had pushed up from the chair and taken a step closer to him. She knew it was a risky move, but she also had to show him she was paying attention to his needs. It was the only way to possibly avoid what she had feared was coming next. “It’s the first thing on my to-do list.”
“I fucking need it for tomorrow, you dumb bitch!” Bradley had exploded. “How are you so fucking stupid?!”
“I’m…I’m not. You said you didn’t need it this week.”
“You can’t even listen, can you? I told you I needed it for the Richter meeting, and that’s tomorrow. What the fuck am I supposed to wear now?”
“You have plenty of options, I’ll go pick something out,” she’d told him, maneuvering around his large frame to head to their bedroom. She knew that he had expressly stated that he didn’t need that shirt—that he could never wear crimson around the Richters, since they were diehard Texas Longhorn fans—but she didn’t bother correcting him. Correcting him would just end poorly.
As soon as she thought she was out of his reach, she had felt his hand clamp down on her arm and pull her back to him. His fingers had squeezed tightly around her elbow, causing a whimper to escape her lips from the pain. A growl rumbled in his throat as he’d gripped her tighter, holding her in front of him.
“You think you can just walk away from me?”
“No, I was going to—”
Smack!
She’d felt the sting from the back of his hand making contact with her face only milliseconds before she felt the scrape of his class ring against her skin. As much as she wanted to cry out, she hadn’t. The tears pricking at her eyes would betray her soon enough and push Bradley over another edge. She’d lived through enough of these moments to know she just needed to let him get it out of his system. A few more hits and he’d storm off, lock himself in his study, and drink until he passed out. She’d survived up until now, she could survive this too, right? That was what she would continue to tell herself, ignoring the fear that someday she wouldn’t.
“It’s a good thing you’re pretty, Georgia. You’re not really good for much else,” Bradley had said, taking her face in his hand and pinching it, like he was holding a taco. “Life woulda been real tough had you been ugly and had to fend for yourself. Although your daddy’s got enough money that he probably coulda paid someone off.”
Swallowing hard, Gigi had continued to fight back the tears. They were what he wanted, but she wouldn’t give in to it. Wouldn’t let him know that he was getting to her. She might not be strong enough to fight back or even to leave, but that didn’t mean she would let him see her cry.
When he’d finally let her go with another shove, she let out a breath—one she hadn’t fully realized she was holding. The fear that had coursed through her veins was paralyzing, forcing her to remain right there in front of him, instead of running away like she knew she probably should. She didn’t need to give him any more reason to be upset, but she still couldn’t move. Bradley let out a loud huff, sneered at her, and then stormed out of the library, leaving her to collapse back into the chair she’d been sitting in.
Everything she was feeling now, resting against the bedroom door, was nothing compared to the apprehension and dread that she used to feel every time her husband walked into a room. Bu
t it also wasn’t the same excitement she had felt even just a few hours ago when thinking about Holden. Letting out a sigh, she took a deep breath, trying to figure it all out. She didn’t know what to do. She could pack up and go, but where? Colebury was a small town—it wasn’t like there were a lot of options. Not to mention, it was a holiday. She could take Audrey up on her offer for Thanksgiving, and see if she could crash on their couch, but that wasn’t a long-term solution. Plus it would lead to a lot more questions than she was prepared to answer.
More than anything, her heart was breaking over the thought that her newfound life was not working out the way she thought it was. Despite her serious attraction to Holden, the two of them had really started to build a friendship, or so she thought. And it had been a really, really long time since she’d felt that kind of connection with anyone.
Pushing up away from the door, she double-checked both doors to her room were locked and then lay down on her bed. It was way too early in the day to go back to bed, but there was always one thing that made her feel better. She reached under the pillow on the side of the bed she didn’t sleep on and pulled out her old paperback of At Midnight.
If nothing else, she had Caulfield Montgomery’s words to comfort her.
Holden
Holden hadn’t even made it all the way down the drive before he regretted everything. Just what kind of douchebaggery was that? If it had been at all possible, he’d kick his own ass for acting like that. No matter the reason, Gigi didn’t deserve to be treated that way.
The look of fear that had been on her beautiful face gnawed at him as he thought about what must have been going through her mind. She was always a little on edge, and after this, he couldn’t blame her if she never got near him again. She’d been so full of joy and excitement when he came down the stairs, dancing around the kitchen, and he’d killed all that with just a few words.
Turning right toward town as he reached the road, he replayed her words in his mind. “I asked you last week if you’d want to celebrate, and you said yes.” Had she brought it up and he just missed it? He really didn’t remember her talking about it at all. They’d talked about her cakes and how people wanted to special order them, so she was going to have to work longer hours, but that was it. Right? Nothing else had come up. Except, the reason people would have been special ordering cakes could only have been one thing.
Thanksgiving.
“Well, you really fucked that up, buddy,” he muttered out loud.
The feel of his phone buzzing in his pocket made his spirits perk up for a second. He reached into his running shorts, hoping to see Gigi’s name on his screen, however it was only his godfather. His heart sank, knowing that he shouldn’t have even thought that maybe it could be her after his horrible words.
“Uncle Field,” he said as he answered the call.
“Happy Thanksgiving!” the older man called from the other end of the phone.
“Yeah, that.”
“Why do you sound so dejected? I know this day brings up some tough memories, but you sound more crabass than normal.”
“It’s nothing,” Holden told him. He really did not want to talk about this with his godfather. He wanted to be able to wallow in his own feelings on the matter, even if he didn’t fully know what they were.
“Ahhhh, so it’s something,” Caulfield said. “This have anything to do with the pretty little roommate of yours?”
“How do you know she’s pretty?” Holden asked defensively. Had there been a conversation with Caulfield that he didn’t remember too? He couldn’t imagine having admitted his attraction to Gigi, but he also didn’t seem to remember a bunch of important conversations recently.
“It’s in your voice, my boy. You sound different when you talk about her. Just like you did with Hannah.”
The mention of his wife made his chest ache. Not only for the loss of her, but for his reaction to Gigi asking about her. The two of them had been building a friendship these last few weeks, opening up to each other about their late partners. He’d told her about Hannah. Well, mostly. But Gigi didn’t have to pry it out of him—he’d told her because he wanted her to know he understood her pain. Her asking about Hannah this morning hadn’t been anything other than her returning that sentiment. And he repaid her concern by losing his fucking mind.
“It’s not betraying her by thinking another woman is pretty, you know,” his godfather said after he didn’t respond. “So tell me, this Gigi, she’s pretty, isn’t she?”
“Beautiful,” Holden admitted. “Different from Hannah, but absolutely beautiful.”
“So, then…why are you talking to me and not putting the moves on her?” he asked with a laugh.
Holden huffed out a small laugh. His godfather had always been an instigator, and age was not slowing the man down one bit. “I’m not really sure she’s talking to me right about now.”
“What’d you do?”
“I badly overreacted when I found her cooking Thanksgiving.”
“She was cooking you Thanksgiving? Did you not tell her?”
Holden searched his memory again. For the life of him, he didn’t remember her asking. But this was Gigi, and if he’d learned anything about her in their short time together, it was just how considerate she was of others. There was no way she would have done all that unless he had told her it was okay. Guilt surged inside him again for not remembering the conversation, on top of the embarrassment he was feeling for his tantrum.
“She sure was. And I guess I didn’t, because I’m sure she wouldn’t have done it had she known. Hell, if she’d known, she would have done something to take my mind off of it,” Holden said, the realization hitting him. You really, really fucked up, dude. “She went all out too, attempting to make it all from scratch. Then, I lost it.”
“Lost it how, Holden?” he asked, his voice almost accusatory.
“I yelled…and…” Holden paused, swallowing hard. He was so ashamed by how he acted, he could barely get the words out. “I knocked the turkey off the counter.”
“Holden Hemingway St. James,” Caulfield said slowly, drawing out each syllable of his name. Now he knew he was in trouble. “You are not the Incredible Hulk. What the hell were you thinking?”
That was a damn good question. One he didn’t really have a good answer for.
“I wasn’t, Uncle Field. I came downstairs, and she was dancing around the kitchen, getting ready to make this whole big meal, and the only thing crossing my mind was Hannah and how she was stolen from me and how this bullshit holiday does nothing but rub my face in that fact.”
“Holden, you can’t keep living like this. Hannah would not have wanted it. You need to move on. Moving on doesn’t mean forgetting her. It just means that you learn to accept that she’s not here anymore. I gotta believe that she’s looking down on you right now, and she’s hurting that you’re still in this much pain. And she’s probably quite pissed off that you’re spending her favorite holiday acting like a jackass. Did it ever occur to you that maybe Hannah sent you Gigi?”
The question caught him off guard. Could that even be possible? That from somewhere beyond the grave Hannah was trying to show him something? He'd lost everything when he’d lost Hannah. Ever since her death he had felt like he was drowning, like he would never be able to fully breathe ever again. Until Gigi walked into his life and provided the fresh air he needed. It hadn’t been one-sided either—the Gigi dancing in the kitchen this morning, the one who had bounded into his office last week, was a different woman than the one he’d met at the Busy Bean that first morning. She was definitely a different Gigi than the one who had started a kitchen fire in the carriage house. Maybe they were exactly what the other needed.
“Sounds like something that would happen in one of your books, old man,” Holden responded, trying to deflect the question.
“Holden, listen to me. You have a chance here to reenter the land of the living. You’ve done everything you can to avoid it, but you can’
t anymore. So march your ass up the stairs, or back into the house to wherever that southern beauty is, and apologize.”
“I’m not sure she’ll talk to me. The look in her eyes, how afraid she was…that’s gonna haunt me.”
Holden sucked in a deep breath, holding it for a moment before slowly exhaling. He wasn’t sure there was an apology big enough to fix what he did. Gigi had never come out and said it, but her skittishness had been enough for him to know that her marriage wasn’t a good one, and he’d gone and acted like a rabid dog.
“Regardless of whether or not she’ll talk to you, you owe the lady an apology. From there, it’s up to her. But Holden, if she lets you back into her life, then you better cherish her for the angel that she is. Treat her so well she won’t remember a time before you were in her life. And then take her to bed and blow her mind.”
“Caulfield Montgomery!” Holden exclaimed.
“What? You can’t deny you want to. I told you, I can hear it in your voice.”
“I’m not having that conversation with you, Uncle Field.”
“Don’t act like such a prude!” he said, blowing off the comment. “Some good lovin’ goes a long way in the forgiveness department.”
“I’m hanging up now!”
Holden could hear his godfather laughing as he tapped the end button on his phone. Shaking his head in disbelief, he started back toward the house, thinking about the advice he was just given. Gigi would need space, that was a given, but the old man was right. He owed her an apology. A great big one.
When he got back inside, he surveyed the mess in the kitchen. The raw turkey sat in the middle of the floor, right where it had come to a halt after bouncing off the wall. The scattered chopped veggies and shattered glass from the bowls covered most of the room, each one sitting there as if it were a dead soldier on a battlefield. A stark reminder of just what an asshole he’d been not even an hour ago. A loud sigh escaped from him at the thought of cleaning it up, but cleaning would have to wait.
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