Her smile was brighter than he’d ever seen, and she kissed him soundly in reply. “I’ve missed you so much.”
“I’ve missed you,” he whispered before kissing her again.
“I want nothing more than to carry you upstairs and make love to you until we’re both limp,” he whispered against her lips.
“That plan is brilliant,” she replied with a smile. “With one exception.”
That exception was currently crawling their way, drool spilling from the corner of his lips.
“He’s teething,” Scarlett explained with a slight grimace.
Jameson let go of his wife, only to scoop up his son and hug him tight. “Are you getting new teeth?” he asked before blowing raspberries on William’s neck.
…
“Of course he is all smiles for you.” Scarlett rolled her eyes. The way Jameson looked at their son stopped her heart. It was equal parts love and awe and only served to make her husband even more attractive.
Jameson’s face fell and took Scarlett’s stomach with it. “He won’t be in a minute,” he said softly.
“What do you mean?” she asked.
“We need to talk about something,” he said quietly, then dragged his gaze to meet hers.
“Tell me,” she demanded, crossing her arms over her chest.
“Your appointment is next week, right?”
Her chest tightened, but she nodded.
“I know you agreed to go to the States if something happened to me, but what do you think about going sooner?” He shifted William in his arms protectively, at odds with his words.
“Sooner? Why?” she whispered, her heart breaking. It was one thing to know that William wasn’t safe here, but it was another for Jameson to send them away.
“It’s too dangerous,” Jameson said. “The raids, the bombings, the deaths. I won’t be able to live with myself if I have to bury either one of you.” His voice came out as though it had been scraped over broken pieces of shrapnel.
“There’s no guarantee I’ll even get a visa,” she countered, her heart fighting what her mind had already told her was best. “We’ve talked about traveling before.”
Nearly all of the commercial ships had been pressed into military service, and while it had been possible, barely, to book passage across the Atlantic, there was still danger. She lost track of how many civilians had died when the U-boats sank their ships from underneath them.
“I love you, Scarlett. There’s nothing I won’t do to keep you safe.” He gazed lovingly at their son. “Keep you both safe. So, I’m asking you to go to the States. I’ve found what I think is the safest way to do it.”
“You want me to go?” Thousands of emotions hit Scarlett all at once—anger, frustration, sorrow, everything seemed to roll up into one ball and lodge itself in her throat.
“No, but can you honestly tell me it’s safe here for William?” His voice faded at their son’s name.
“I don’t want to leave you,” she whispered. She hugged herself tighter, for fear that if she let go even the slightest bit, she would shatter to pieces at his feet. He was right, it wasn’t safe. She’d come to the same conclusion yesterday in that air-raid shelter, but the thought of leaving Jameson was a knife in her soul.
He pulled her against him, tucking her in tight into his side as he held their son in his other arm. “I don’t want you to go,” he admitted in a guttural rush. “But if I can save you, I will. Exeter, Bath, Norwich, York, the list goes on. Over a thousand civilians have died in the last week alone.”
“I know.” Her hands fisted in the material of his uniform, as if she could stay if she held on just a little tighter, but this wasn’t about them anymore. It was about their son, the life they’d created together. Thousands of British mothers had trusted their children to strangers to keep them from harm’s way, and here, she had the chance to deliver her son from harm herself. “You want us to take the ship to America?” she asked slowly, tasting the bittersweet words on her tongue.
“Not exactly…”
She looked up at Jameson and arched an eyebrow.
“I saw my uncle today.”
Her eyes flew wide. “I’m sorry?”
“Uncle Vernon. He’s here flying with ATC. He’ll be back in a little less than a month.”
Scarlett swallowed. “At which time he’ll come to dinner so I can meet him?” she guessed hopefully, knowing that wasn’t what he meant.
Jameson shook his head. “At which time he can get you out.”
How? How could he be sure she’d get a visa below the quota? How could he be sure he’d get them out? How? The questions hit her at such speed that they all skimmed right over her, because everything in her soul, in the center of her being, had focused on the other piece in this puzzle. “Less than a month?” Her voice was barely a whisper.
“Less than a month.” The agony in Jameson’s eyes was something she’d never forget, but he nodded once. “If you agree.”
It was her choice, but there wasn’t one. Not really.
“Okay,” she agreed, tears pricking her eyes. “But only because of William.” She would risk her life to stay with Jameson, but she couldn’t risk her son’s if there was any other option.
Jameson forced a smile, then pressed a hard kiss against her forehead. “For William.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Georgia
Dear Jameson,
I miss you. I love you. I cannot bear to be away from you anymore. I know I’ll reach you before this letter, but I’m coming, my love. I cannot wait to feel your arms around me again…
I stared in open-mouthed shock as Mom slowly pocketed her cell phone, her cheeks turning pink.
“I will ask you again: what the hell are you doing?” Noah repeated as he marched toward the desk.
“She’s scanning the manuscript,” I whispered, gripping the back of a chair to remain upright.
“Holy shit.” Noah reached across the desk, yanking the stack of papers out of Mom’s reach with one hand and taking the box with the other. He quickly thumbed through the stack, not sparing a glance in Mom’s direction. “She got the first third of it,” he said to me, putting the manuscript back together and securing the lid.
“Why would you do that?” I asked, my voice breaking like a child’s.
“I just wanted to read it. Gran never let me, and we weren’t on the best terms the last time I was here.” Mom swallowed and slid her phone into the back pocket of her jeans.
I tilted my head, trying to make sense of it. “We were on great terms until you walked out after you got what you came for.” I shook my head. “I would have let you read it if you’d wanted to. You didn’t have to sneak around. Didn’t have to—” My face fell, and I felt the blood drain straight out of it. “You weren’t scanning it for you.”
“He has every right to read it, Georgia.” She lifted her chin. “You know that contract states that he has the first right of refusal, and you’ve withheld it from him. You should have heard him on the phone, heartbroken that you were using business to get back at him.”
Damian. Mom was scanning the manuscript for Damian. My stomach knotted, dropping to the floor.
“She’s not selling the rights!” Noah’s voice rose, tension ebbing from every line of his torso. “It’s hard to have first right of refusal on a deal that doesn’t exist.”
“You’re not selling the movie rights?” Mom stared at me in disbelief.
“No, Mom.” I shook my head. “He played you.” Damian had always been a smooth operator, but I’d never seen someone get one over on Mom.
“Why the hell not?” she fired back, stunning me into silence.
“I’m sorry?” Noah barked, stepping back to stand at my side, the shirt box safely tucked under his arm.
“Why the hell wouldn’t you sell the movi
e rights?” she shouted. “Do you know how much they’re worth? I’ll tell you. Millions, Georgia. They’re worth millions, and he—” She pointed to Noah. “He doesn’t own any of them. It’s just us, Gigi. You and me.”
“This is about money,” I whispered.
Mom blinked quickly, then adapted, her face softening. “Your party wasn’t, baby. But I was here. I really think that this could be the key to getting him back, and he promised to adapt it word for word. Don’t you believe him?”
“I don’t want him back, and I sure as hell don’t believe a word that comes out of his mouth!” I sputtered, fire streaking through my veins as the anger pushed through the armor of my disbelief. “Did you honestly think you could force my hand? Make me sell him the rights?”
Mom glanced between Noah and me. “Well, I can’t now, since that’s not the finished manuscript.” Her eyes narrowed on Noah. “Where’s the ending?”
Noah’s jaw flexed.
“It’s not done yet,” I snapped. “And even if it was, you can’t force me into anything.”
“Millions, honey. Just think of what that could do for us,” she begged, coming around the side of the desk.
“You mean what it could do for you.” I put myself between her and Noah. “It’s always about you.”
“Why do you even care?” Mom shouted.
“Gran hated movies, and you think that out of all her books, I’m going to sell the rights to this one to any producer, let alone the man who slept with everything in a skirt?”
“I don’t give a shit what Gran wanted,” she hissed. “She sure as hell never gave me a second thought.”
“That’s not true.” I shook my head. “She loved you more than life. She only cut you out of the will when you decided to marry a hopelessly-in-debt gambler, so you’d stop looking like a payday to every guy who crossed your path. She cut you out to give you a chance at finding someone who really loved you!”
“She cut me out as a punishment for making her raise you!” she yelled, jabbing her finger in my direction. “Because I was the reason my parents were on the road that night, coming to watch my recital!”
“She never blamed you, Mom.” My heart stuttered to life, aching for everything she’d gotten wrong.
“The woman you adore so blindly doesn’t exist to me, Georgia.” She looked past me to Noah. “Give me the endings. Both of them.”
“I told you, they’re not done!” How did she even know there would be two?
Her gaze shifted slowly to meet mine, her features transforming to a look of such pity that I recoiled, stepping back in to Noah. “Oh, you sweet, naive little girl. Didn’t you learn anything from the last man who lied to you?”
“This is done. You need to go.” I straightened my spine. I wasn’t the toddler she’d abandoned during afternoon nap anymore, or even the teary-eyed preteen who stared out the window for hours after she’d disappeared once more.
“You really don’t know, do you?” Sympathy dripped from her tone.
“Georgia asked you to leave.” Noah’s voice rumbled against my back.
“Of course you want me to leave. Why the hell didn’t you tell her it was finished? What else could you possibly get by keeping it from her?” Mom tilted her head just like I had, and I hated it. Hated that I looked so much like her. Hated that I had anything in common with her.
I needed her to go. Now. Once and for all.
“Noah’s not done with the damned book!” I snapped. “He’s in here working on it all day, every day! I’m never selling the movie rights, and you can tell Damian to kiss my ass, because he’s never touching this story. Ever. Now you can leave on your own, or I can throw you out, but either way, you’re leaving.”
“You’re going to need me when you realize how naive you’ve been. Why would you lie to her like that?” She studied Noah like she’d found a worthy opponent.
That unnerved me like nothing else could have.
“I learned not to need you a long time ago, right around the time I realized that other mothers didn’t leave. That other mothers came to soccer games and helped their daughters get ready for dances. Other moms picked out costumes for Halloween and bought pints of ice cream for broken teenage hearts. I may have needed you at one point, but it passed.”
She jolted like I’d slapped her. “What would you know about motherhood? From what I’ve read, you lost your husband over that issue.”
“That’s uncalled for,” Noah moved, but I leaned back against him.
I shook my head with a small laugh. She had no idea. “Everything I know about motherhood, I learned from my mom. I didn’t get it until recently, but I do now. It’s okay that you didn’t know how to raise me. It really is. I don’t blame you for being a kid with a kid. You gave me a really great mom. One who came to the games, helped me pick out dresses for prom, listened to my hours of chatter without batting an eye, and never once made me feel like a burden, never wanted anything from me. You taught me that not all moms are called Mom. Mine was called Gran.” I sucked in a stuttered breath. “I’m okay with that.”
Mom stared at me like she’d never seen me before, then crossed her arms under her breasts. “Fine. If you don’t want to sell the movie rights…if you don’t have enough common sense to take the money, or enough compassion for me to do it, nothing I say will make a difference.”
“I’m glad we agree.” My body tensed, recognizing her preamble for exactly what it was, the moment before she went for the emotional kill.
“But I’d be remiss if I didn’t tell you that he’s finished the book. Both endings. If you don’t believe me, call Helen like I did. Call his editor. Hell, call the mailroom clerk. Everyone knows it’s done, just waiting for you to pick an ending.” She turned her attention to Noah. “You’re a piece of work, Noah Harrison. At least I only wanted money. Damian wanted access to Scarlett’s rights. What did you want?” She walked past us, pausing to pick up the bag I hadn’t noticed was already packed by the office door. “Oh, and you should send your editor a nice bottle of scotch, because that man is a guard dog. No one’s seen it but him.” She picked up her bag and walked out of the office.
The front door closed a few seconds later.
“Georgia.” Noah’s voice held an edge of something I hadn’t heard there before—desperation.
Mom had called Helen. Helen wouldn’t lie. She had no reason to, nothing to gain from it. Gravity shifted beneath my feet, but I managed to walk to the window before I faced Noah, putting nowhere near enough distance between us if it was true.
“Is it true?” I wrapped my arms around my waist and stared at the man I’d foolishly allowed myself to fall in love with.
“I can explain.” He put the shirt box on the desk and stepped forward once, but something in my eyes must have warned him off, because he didn’t move any closer.
“Did you finish writing the book?” My voice weakened.
The muscle in his jaw ticked once. Twice. “Yes.”
I heard it in the back of my mind—the gasp, the gurgle, the love that had consumed me less than an hour ago twisting, contorting into something ugly and poisonous.
“Georgia, this isn’t what you think.” His eyes begged me to listen, but I wasn’t done asking the questions.
“When?”
He muttered a curse, lacing his fingers on top of his head.
“When did you finish the book, Noah?” I snapped, grasping onto the anger to keep from drowning in the tide of agony rising in my soul.
“The beginning of December.”
My eyes flared. Six weeks. He’d been lying to me for six entire weeks. What else had he lied about? Did he have a girlfriend back in New York? Did he ever really love me? Or was it all a lie?
“I know this looks bad—”
“Get out.” There was no emotion in my words, no feeling left in my body.
“You had just told me that you wanted us to be a fling, and I was already in love with you. I couldn’t walk away. It was wrong, and I’m sorry. I just needed enough time—”
“To what? Screw with my emotions? Is that what gets you off?” I shook my head.
“No! I’m in love with you! I knew if we had enough time, you’d fall for me, too.” He dropped his arms.
“You love me.”
“You know I do.”
“You don’t lie and manipulate someone into loving you, Noah. That’s not how love works!”
“All I did was give us the time we needed.”
“What happened to I never break my word?” I tossed back.
“I haven’t! Is the draft done? Yes. But the book isn’t finished. I’ve been in here every day, editing both versions, giving us as much time as possible before you have to choose one of the endings. Before you cut us off at the knees because you’re scared.”
“You lied. Apparently my caution was warranted. Take your laptop and your lies and go. I’ll mail whatever else you left, just get away from me.” I’d made the mistake of holding on to Damian after that first lie, and he sucked eight years of my life away as a thank-you. Never again.
“Georgia—” He came toward me, reaching.
“Go!” The demand was a guttural plea that scraped my throat raw.
His hand fell away, and his eyes slid shut.
One heartbeat passed. Then two. By the time he opened his eyes, a full dozen had passed, just enough to let me know this moment wouldn’t kill me. That I’d keep breathing despite the pain.
He saw it, too, nodding slowly as our gazes locked. “Okay. I’ll go. But you can’t stop me from loving you. Yes, I fucked up, but everything I said to you is the truth.”
“Semantics,” I whispered, searching deep for the ice I’d grown in my veins during my marriage, but Noah had taken it all, thawed every last shard and left me defenseless.
He flinched. A breath later, he backed away slowly, rounding the opposite side of the desk and opening one of the drawers. His movements were jerky as he put one binder-clipped packet of paper on the left of the manuscript, and the other on the right.
The Things We Leave Unfinished Page 34