“Why should I care anymore? My sex life is over and done with. I might as well look back on the high points with reverie, right? After all, it’s what is going to take me into my dotage. Me thinking back to the good old days—make that day—better yet, night—when Spencer—oh God, what is his last name? I’m not even sure what his last name is. Does that make me super slutty that I slept with a guy whose last name escapes me—if I ever even knew it? Anyhow, when Spencer What’s-His-Name gave me a Big O with his mouth.” She looked skyward, as if toward the angels, remembering fondly the moment when. “Have you ever done that?” She pointed at Noah, who was turning red with embarrassment.
Harper put her arm over her shoulder. “Sweetie, a good man totally does that. In fact, for future reference, now that you’ve experienced it, be sure to only go with a guy who has that tool in his tool chest, so to speak.”
“But there won’t be another guy,” she wailed. “I’m relegated to that damned vibrator for all of eternity. I need to give it a name. Like some sexy Italian name. Alfredo. It’s me and Alfredo for life. At least Alfredo won’t betray me. Or slip out the door at five in the morning. There’s something to be said for the steadfastness of a rechargeable machine. Besides, if Alfredo eventually dies—from overuse, no doubt—I can always replace him, no questions asked. No feelings hurt.”
“Why don’t I step out and grab a couple more doughnuts,” Noah said, his eyebrows ski-sloped in a plea to flee.
“That would be amazing if you could do that,” Harper said. “And I’ll stay here and soothe my friend Georgie’s soul.”
It was all fine and good for them both to help out—because to be truthful, Georgie could sit and eat a dozen doughnuts right now in an attempt to self-soothe—but she was fairly certain that nothing was going to do much to appease her still-fragile heart.
Chapter Nineteen
“Dude,” Noah said over coffee and doughnuts with Spencer. “What the fuck did you do to Georgie? I mean, I asked you to be my wingman and all, and thanks for that, but shit, she’s a hot damned mess and a puddle of tears. I couldn’t get out of there fast enough this morning because I sure as hell didn’t know what to say to her. And I had the impression it was all thanks to you.”
Spencer shook his head as he took a sip of his coffee, which he promptly spat out. “Crap, that was hot,” he said. “Burned my damned mouth.”
“Here. Have a doughnut. I’ve been eating them for half an hour now, in fear of returning to the shop but knowing I promised I’d bring some of these back.”
“Yeah, well I’m gonna get an earful when I show up late for work this morning too.” He grabbed a blueberry doughnut and popped a chunk of it in his mouth.
“So, what the hell man? First off, I guess you deserve props because apparently you’ve got the best damned tongue in the state of North Carolina.”
Spence looked up from blowing on his coffee. “Huh?”
“In between all the tears and moaning and groaning—”
Spencer held up his hand to pause his friend, taking a moment to flash back to the moaning and groaning he remembered all too acutely.
“As I was saying, in between all the moaning and groaning, she kept talking about your masterful tongue, so I guess there’s that.”
Spencer shook his head. “She’d been telling me what a dud that ex of hers was. I challenged her that there were plenty of good guys out there, and lots and lots of good—make that great—sex. I told her it was all just a friends thing though. That I don’t do relationships. That I wasn’t interested in anything more than a fling.”
“Have you ever met a woman on the planet who seriously believed that?”
“About good guys and good sex?”
“No. About the commitment-free fuck.”
He shrugged. “Actually I’ve met a bunch. That’s the beauty of hookup apps.”
Noah erased the air with his hands. “Apart from them. Like legit women looking for legit connections with a guy. Not that the other ones aren’t legit, but they have different needs they’re trying to meet. But a woman like Georgie is decidedly not that type of gal. Georgie is not the one who would seek a one-night stand.”
“How do you know that?”
Noah threw him some shade. “Well, let’s see. She wears sensible shoes. Have you ever met a hookup on Tinder who was in sensible shoes?”
Spencer laughed, thinking back to any of those women, and pretty much their footwear involved spiked heels. “Good point. What else?”
“She drives a beat-up Volvo that’s about a thousand years old. Not your typical hookup vehicle.”
“True.”
“Oh. And she quilts. She even made you a quilt! What woman who’s looking for a one-night stand does that?”
Spencer squinted at him. “What do you mean she made me a quilt?”
“You didn’t see the thing? Harper told me all about it. After she broke your board she felt so bad about it she wanted to make you an apology gift. But she didn’t even know who you were or where you lived. So, she decided to make this damned quilt in case she happened to run into you again—figuratively not literally, I’m supposing.”
“Yeah, definitely no more running into me like that.” He paused as he tried his coffee again. This time it was mercifully cool enough to drink without scalding the roof of his mouth. “But you know I did run into her last night. And it didn’t go well. She was obviously mad at me—she pretended we hardly knew each other. When I called her out on it she got angrier and then she stormed off.”
“That would be the reaction of a woman who makes quilts for strangers whose boards she destroys. Not the reaction of a woman looking for a quick night of hot sex with the hopes of never seeing the dude again.”
Spencer thrust his lower lip out in a frown. “Shit.”
Noah nodded. “Yup.”
“So, what am I supposed to do with this information?”
Noah shook his head. “Hell if I know. That’s for you to sort out. But I wanted you to know that you didn’t do Georgie any favors by pegging her as one of those girls who didn’t care.”
“But she said herself she wasn’t looking for anything serious—” Wait, had she said that? Or was he conveniently remembering that? Because in the heat of the moment, talk switched from him not wanting serious relationships to her putting her hand on his thigh and then the next thing he knew they were naked and he’d lost all semblance of thinking clearly. Had she, in fact, talked about that, or had he assumed as much? “Awww, crap. I’m such a dickhead.”
Noah lifted his eyebrow. “Tell me something I don’t already know.” He grinned.
“I was so busy talking to her about how I didn’t go for relationships, I never even bothered to be sure that wasn’t what she was looking for. Which wasn’t all that fair of me, was it?”
“She made you a freaking quilt. I don’t know much about things like that except that what Harper said is it takes a ton of time to make. It’s not something you whip together in twenty minutes like an omelet.”
Spencer of all people understood what handcrafting something meant. It was a labor of love as much as anything else. Not that Georgie loved him, but she cared enough about him and his feelings and how she’d hurt and upset him to go to such lengths? What woman does that?
But he already had the answer to his rhetorical question: the kind of woman who a man should want to explore a deepening relationship with. Not the kind who would accept money from an asshole father to try to woo you back into the family fold. This is a woman who sacrificed her time and care for someone she didn’t even know. Yet. And now she knew him in a way that made her feel special. Until he made it clear that wasn’t the case on his end.
Sometimes it’s easy to learn life lessons, and other times you need to be bashed over the head with the truth to soak it in. This was one of those times. He needed to figure out how to fix what he broke here, which was, most unexpectedly, this sweet woman’s heart.
Chapter Twenty
“The thing is, I knew he went into this thing with the understanding it was a one-night stand. He told me as much. So I wasn’t ignorant about it. And I told myself I was merely going to tap into the irrigation system that had suddenly made itself available to me to end my dry spell… turn that hose on full blast.” She grinned through her tears.
“I’m glad you can laugh at it at least.”
“Yeah well, if you don’t laugh, you cry.”
“I’m sorry, Georgie. I wish I could help you.”
“The thing is, I know I’m as much at fault as he is—if there is fault to be assigned to anyone here. I made an impulsive decision to go for it. I knew I wasn’t keen on the whole notion of having impersonal sex. But, well, it had been so long. He was there. He seemed nice. He was cute. He promised me it would be exceptional. And he didn’t lie about that, either, but I didn’t realize that having sex with him was going to trigger some need for emotional connection with the guy. I thought I was totally over the whole emotion thing with men. After Danny, I closed myself off so much I didn’t think I’d ever be able to open up that way for any man. I figured I’d be fine.”
“But you’re not.”
Georgie shook her head. Her tearstained face felt tight to the touch, her hopes and dreams shriveled up like her parched face. Her foolish wish that maybe she and Spencer could explore some sort of relationship together, completely shot down.
“I’m going to be frank with you, now, honey. It’s for your own good.” Harper took a deep breath. “You’ve got to pull yourself together. No man is worth falling to pieces over, Georgie. You’re a strong, smart, adorably charming, vibrant young woman. You might think you’re never going to find another man again, but I promise you, you will. And he’s going to be the man you deserve, someone who will love and cherish you—”
“And have an amazing tongue?”
She laughed, nodding. “Yes, that too. The whole package. And the timing will be right and you’ll be ready for him and he’ll be ready for you and you’ll be glad you held out hope for that perfect Mr. Right.”
“But what if Mr. Maybe seemed to be perfect already?”
Her friend shrugged. “If he wasn’t willing to sacrifice for you, then he wasn’t perfect enough for you. I don’t want you to settle for anything less, and I also don’t want you to abandon all hope that someday, you’ll find yourself in a relationship that you deserve.”
Georgie wiped her eyes again and fixed her gaze on Harper’s. “You think so? You don’t think I’m officially yesterday’s trash?”
Harper laughed. “Goodness, no. You’re the most untrashy woman I know.”
“I guess that’s a compliment.”
Harper hugged her. “In the best sense of the word. You’re one in a million, Georgie. And don’t you forget it.”
~*~
The minute Spencer left work for the day, he hightailed it to his workshop and got down to business. He’d been mulling ways to implement Georgia’s brilliant idea for repurposing his dead board. And he finally figured out a way to do it. After trimming away and sanding down the raw edges where the board had once been one, he carefully cut two thin bands of wood, which he applied with a strong epoxy along the edge of each piece of the board. Sure only one edge of the “table” was going to have that band along it, but it would then fit nicely against the wall next to the sofa as if that was part of the design all along.
On his way home from work he’d stopped at the hardware store and purchased two solid granite pedestals, which he secured to the underside of the board pieces with metal brackets. And while he distracted himself with this project, he mulled over what a prick he’d been to poor Georgie, who totally didn’t deserve to be treated like she was disposable. Because no matter how you looked at it, that was the message he’d sent to her and was no different from the message Douchebag Dan had given her as well. He was no better than that dickhead, and he hated himself all the more for it.
The question now was how could he get himself back into Georgie’s good graces? It was obvious she would avoid him at all costs. She could easily pretend their little fling was meaningless, but he knew better. And he owed it to her to fix this.
Chapter Twenty-One
Ho ho ho and all that crap. That’s what Georgie was thinking as she got ready for this little Christmas bash at Marcy’s. Make that Marcy and James’s. Or would that be Jameses’? She never knew how to do that. Make that Marcy and James’s and the alleged Baby Marcy-and-James. How weird was that? She tried to do the math on when the baby was due, but she wasn’t clear on when doctors date the pregnancy—at the point of conception? But who knew when that was? Or once you’re confirmed pregnant? Would she be due next fall? She counted on her fingers, figuring if she was pregnant mid-November, then maybe mid-August? Well, she’d be schvitzing that out next summer for sure—nine months pregnant in the dead heat of a North Carolina summer? No thank you, ma’am.
Georgie figured if she were ever to have a baby, it would, at this point, need to be both immaculate conception and immaculate delivery. She wanted that thing out with no muss, no fuss. She saw those scary videos of babies being delivered in health class and that made her skin crawl. Like who would invent such a barbaric procedure?
A man. That’s who. Typical.
As much as Georgie wasn’t keen on being all flush with holiday spirit, she did like a cute holiday dress, and a few years ago she had found an adorable, short, royal-blue scoop-necked sweaterdress tastefully trimmed in fake fur. It looked like something Mrs. Claus might wear on a date. A little spicy, emphasizing her best asset, her breasts, and her second-best asset, her legs. She donned a pair of sexy silver sandals, stuck two small Christmas ornament earrings in her ears, threw on her coat, and left, grabbing the obligatory bottle of wine for the hostess from the kitchen on her way out. She had half a mind to give Marcy one of those lousy, lamentable bottles of re-gifted wine people sometimes show up with. She never knew what to do with those and so far had donated them to the local food drive. Though that was likely not what they had meant when they said food drive. Instead she grabbed one of her better bottles, thinking it’s what she’d want someone to do for her.
She parked a block away, realizing too late the sandals she’d put on were look-don’t-walk shoes. Her feet were already hurting by the time she arrived at their door.
James greeted her at the entrance with a kiss and took her coat, pointing toward the kitchen, where Marcy was. The house was Christmased out in a big way—they must have bought out the holiday décor section at Target.
“Am I early?” she asked James. A cursory look revealed that she was the only one there.
“No.” He shook his head. “Didn’t Marc tell you? It’s only a small dinner thing.”
“Oh gosh, sorry. I thought it was a big blowout. I mean why else would I be invited?” She covered her mouth the minute she said that, knowing it might sound snide.
James put his arm around Georgie’s shoulder. “Because Marcy likes you. That’s why. And so do I.”
Okay, then… That was weird. Was she in the alternate universe in which her cousin was her friend? How supremely unexpected!
Georgie walked into the kitchen. “Georgie! So great to see you!” Her cousin enveloped her in a big hug.
“Hey!” Georgie said, plastering on a less-than-heartfelt smile. “How was your honeymoon?”
“It was fabulous,” her cousin said as she started to rub her belly. “Though I guess you could also call it a babymoon.”
Georgie cocked her head and squinted. “Babymoon?”
James joined them in the kitchen and put his arm around his new wife. “We’ve got some great news to share with you.”
Oh God. This was it. They were going to tell her about the baby due next fall and she was going to have to fake it and pretend she was none the wiser.
“Yeah? What is it?”
Marcy pulled
something off of her refrigerator and handed it to her cousin. “This. It’s our sonogram picture. We’re having a baby in April!”
Georgie did a quick head shake. April? Huh? That would be the shortest gestation period in the history of—wait a minute. She did some quick mental math. That means she was pregnant well before she got married. Like even before she got engaged in September. And they did get married awfully quickly, come to think of it. Everyone said they were simply so excited to be husband and wife.
“A baby! You guys! You sure made fast work of it!”
“Well, not that fast,” she said. “If you do the math you can figure out we were expecting well before we got married.”
Gee, really? “Oh. I hadn’t thought about that. I don’t usually think about things like babies I guess.”
Marcy put her hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry, Georgie. I need to apologize to you. I was so wrapped up in my own world that I have never reached out to you to tell you how bad I felt for how Dan treated you. To be honest, I don’t think you deserved him, and I was glad when he was out of the picture.”
Georgie knit her brows. “What do you mean?”
“Like that time at my mother’s sixtieth birthday party when you two came down here. Remember that?”
Yeah, she remembered it. Her aunt seemed not particularly thrilled that Georgie showed up, a fiancé in tow. She figured it was because she was going to beat her daughter to the altar. It was Jeannie’s way.
“Well, that weekend I was out with some girlfriends at Catfish’s. We were all drinking and whooping it up. And Dan came in and started chatting up my friends as if he had every right to do that. He was buying drinks for one of them, even took her phone number. I was shocked by it. But then I guess I hoped he’d buckle down and get serious once you two were married.”
Huh. So, this was news. Danny was seen in public coming on to other women when they were engaged? And no one even told her?
“The thing is, Georgie, I need to apologize for my mother’s bad behavior too. I guess until recently I hadn’t seen her for all the ugly reality of it. And not to excuse it, but I guess she was jealous of you, since you were going to be married before I was. Stupid behavior, and she’s way too old for it.”
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