by Staci Hart
The flush climbed up her neck, deepening in her cheeks. “You don’t know that.”
“I have two eyes, a pair of ears, and something between them. I do know that.”
She huffed. “He’s never said anything to me about it. And even if he does, why does it matter?”
“Because you like him too.”
“Oh, for God’s sake, Liam. I’m not a teenager. I’m perfectly capable of maintaining a professional relationship with a man I’m attracted to.”
“So you admit it.”
She groaned like the teenager she’d just said she wasn’t.
“You can’t see him.”
“I know that.”
“Then why do this to yourself?”
A pause. “The project won’t last forever.”
There it was—that temporarily quiet anger I wanted so badly to run off, and I didn’t have the good sense to walk away. Instead, I threw myself into the volcano and burst into flames. “You cannot see him. Even then.”
“Uh, I’m pretty sure I can.” She pressed the chicken until it hissed.
“Jesus, George. I don’t fucking get it. Why? Why do you always pick guys who are set out to hurt you?”
“Because that’s what love is. No one walks into love without knowing it’s going to hurt.”
“But you’re determined to bat a thousand when you pick guys with every reason to. Can’t you find a man in our station?”
She turned to me, her face twisted up in anger, spatula in hand at her side. “And why would I want one? I know enough of those men—I have been surrounded by them my entire life. Men more worried about their image and their money and their mistresses than loving anyone other than themselves. The fact that you would even suggest that money be a factor in who I choose to see is almost unbelievable, if I didn’t know better. But somehow, I’m always shocked at how you can be so thoughtless, so cruel.”
That word. It stung just as badly as when Laney had flung it at me. “I only mention it,” I said with as much control as I could muster, “because when you choose men without means, they have motive beyond loving you.”
“That is not for you to decide!” she shot. “Just because I misjudged someone once—”
“This has happened more than once, and Wyatt isn’t just someone. You almost fucking married him, George,” I shouted, not meaning to, unable to stop it. “He tried to take everything from you, and he would have if—”
“If you hadn’t stuck your goddamn nose where it didn’t belong!”
“Because I was trying to protect you, not choose who you marry.”
“What’s the difference? You’re still missing the point, Liam—you don’t get a say in this.”
My fire flamed so hot, it could have melted cold steel. “I don’t see why not—somebody’s got to pay attention. Admit it. You’re not the best judge of character. How many times have you brought home some fucking loser who wanted to get into your wallet more than they wanted to get in your pants?”
The second the words left my lips, regret gripped me. And when Georgie jerked back in pain, guilt struck me like it was me who’d been slapped.
“I … I didn’t mean—”
Her eyes shone, her jaw set but chin flexed. “You asshole,” she breathed.
“Please,” I begged, stepping closer. “I didn’t mean that. I’m just … I’m sorry. I can’t stop worrying about you, about this. You’re all I have, George, and if something happens to you …” I shook my head, looking away. “What happened with Wyatt can’t happen again, because the next man who hurts you is going to land him in the hospital and me in jail. I know I’m overbearing—”
She let out a single ha as a fat tear slid down her cheek.
“But I’m the cynic so you don’t have to be. Remember? It’s my job to look for danger, and you having feelings for a man whose income relies on a retail job is dangerous.”
She sniffled, refusing to look at me as she uncrossed her arms to swipe at her cheek.
“The more you feed that want to see him, the worse it’s going to get. And then what’s going to stop you? If Catherine finds out, she will tear you open. Take you off the project. Punish you, maybe even fire you. And God knows what she’ll do to him.”
The acrid smell of burning meat hit us both at once, and Georgie swore under her breath, hurrying to save dinner.
Once salvaged, she kept her eyes on the pan and her spatula moving the chicken around without purpose. “Objectively, you’re right. I shouldn’t even be friends with him, which is all we are, just so you know. But Liam, I am not going to even pretend like I’ll follow your edict about the financial position of the men I see or date or fall in love with. You’re going to have to trust me, because what was cute when I was sixteen doesn’t work when I’m twenty-six. You can’t choose for me forever.”
I hated that she was right, no matter how desperately I wished she wasn’t. I didn’t know how else to protect her from men like Wickham.
“I saw him.” The words blurted out of me, unbidden. “Wyatt.”
The spoon paused over the skillet. “Where?”
“Wasted Words. With Laney.”
Slowly, she turned. “Are they seeing each other?”
“I think like they might be,” I said darkly.
The thought hung between us.
“I’ve known since the mixer.” When she didn’t respond, I continued. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you—I’d hoped he wouldn’t come around. But if he’s around the bookstore, you should be prepared to see him.”
Still, she said nothing.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine—I don’t love him anymore. But Laney …”
“We can’t interfere.”
“You sure are eager to tell me all the things I can’t do tonight,” she snapped, but sighed. “But you’re right. I don’t think I could do it, sit and badmouth Wyatt to her. I always hope people judge me based on my merits, not by what others say, and ruining someone because of what happened between us just…I can’t do it. We don’t know—maybe things are different. Maybe he’s changed.”
We exchanged looks.
“If she asks me about him or I find a window to gently warn her, I will. But I won’t stop them from being together. I know all too well how that feels, and I’m not about to put that on someone else.” She straightened up and turned back to her task. “I won’t lie to you—if the timing were right, I would be dating the hell out of Jett Bennet, and when the job is over, he’s fair game. The contents of his bank account don’t matter to me. His character does. And he is one of the most genuinely good men I’ve ever known. Aside from you. Although unlike you, he’s not an asshole,” she teased.
“He’d better not be,” I warned, still unconvinced of his merits.
She chuckled.
I watched her for a moment. “I promise I’ll try harder to trust you. And I’m sorry I’m like this.”
Georgie sighed, moving the pan off the burner. And when she turned to me, there was such sadness on her face, witnessing it broke something inside of me.
“Don’t apologize for who you are. You’re like this because it’s me, and for so long, I’m all you’ve had. Just like you’re all I’ve had. You’ve always taken care of me, and I know you always will. In fact, I’ll even give you some control. You have my permission to fully vet all potential boyfriends, if it makes you feel better.” Her lips tilted in a smile.
“Good, because I’d do it anyway.”
At that, she laughed, stepping into me for a hug. “But I still get the veto.”
I wrapped my arms around my little sister, resting my chin on top of her head. “I don’t want you to get hurt again”
“I know. But trying to stop it is like trying to make a waterfall fall up. You can’t change gravity, no matter how badly you want to. I’m going to get hurt again. And the best thing you can do for me is be here when it happens.”
“Always. I’m always here.”
�
�And promise me one more thing.”
“Anything.”
“Find someone to love.”
It was a sad resignation, an empty space in my chest I knew would never be filled. I knew without question that I was an observer to that particular luxury.
But I went ahead and promised her anyway.
13
Wishy Washy
LANEY
A week later, the Bennet family dining room rang with the happy sounds of home. Dominated by male voices, there was a constant low rumble, punctuated by my mother’s singsong tone. The mix of the three women my younger brothers had settled down with were welcome, bringing a new melody to the noise that was the Bennet brood.
Last year, Mom had instructed Luke to put the leaf in the dining table where we currently sat, and she watched him install it with such pride, you’d have thought she’d won a Daytime Emmy. That leaf had been waiting in some long forgotten closet for the moment when her children found their match, the wooden slat a symbol of her hopes and dreams for us.
She said, at least. We all knew they were her hopes and dreams, which revolved less around us and more around the number of grandchildren we would supply. Twelve chairs stood like sentinels around the table. Ten of them were full. And filling the final two rested on the shoulders of Jett and me.
Dinner was well underway, though eating never stopped conversation. It was never quiet, not even in the dead of night, thanks to white-noise machines. It was a tic we all possessed—the inability to happily sit in silence. Growing up in this house so full of people and bedlam, if things were quiet, someone was about to get in serious trouble.
Wyatt had been gone a week for work, but we’d texted some while he was away. I liked him enough that I might call it smitten. The last time I’d seen him was the night at Wasted Words when he and Darcy had their showdown, and Wyatt had come home with me, as promised. Mostly, we sat on the couch while the TV played nothing and we talked and laughed over it. Before he left, he’d bestowed upon me a kiss that was one for the books, complete with a chin-grab and a hair-tuck when it was over.
A good guy with a stitched-up heart, a great job, and enough wit to keep me a little bit obsessed with him.
Things were looking up.
“How’s it going at De Bourgh?” Lila asked over the din. “Have you met Catherine yet?”
“Not yet. I don’t think she often lowers herself to wander around with the rabble.”
“And how’s your Mr. Darcy?” Mom asked cheerfully.
“Well, we still hate each other, and I think he’s a terrible person. But he’s been more manageable since we started the competition.”
“You’d think he’d be worse,” Tess said, dunking a slice of French bread into her stew.
“You’d think. But if I’ve learned one thing about Darcy, it’s that he’s unpredictable. No one knows what goes on in that man’s head, but I imagine it’s terrifying.”
“And what about that other boy?” Mom asked. “Wortham? Weston?”
“Wickham,” I offered. “He’s been out of town for a story for Forbes.”
“A reporter,” she mused at the recall of his profession. “How exciting. When will we meet him?”
“Mom, we’ve kissed approximately once. So at this point, probably never.”
Her lip slipped out just a touch. “Well, a mother can hope. To think, my oldest children are the last to settle down. Are you sure you won’t let me help? I met a man at the grocery store yesterday I think you’d love.”
Jett frowned at her on my behalf. “The groceries get delivered. What were you doing at the store?”
“Oh, just picking up this and that.” She kept her eyes on her hands as she adjusted and smoothed her napkin in her lap.
“Mom,” I warned, “did you go to the grocery store to set us up?”
“Don’t be silly, Elaine,” she said noncommittally.
“That wasn’t an answer,” I noted.
Jett’s brows came together. “Please tell me you weren’t hanging around in the produce department, looking for eligible men for Laney.”
“Of course not! I was looking for girls for you too, dear.”
Everyone but Jett and me laughed.
“Yuk it up, you guys,” I said, pointing at them with my spoon. “Better to have Mom soliciting strangers for us than keeping a calendar of your cycles.”
“It’s not a calendar,” Mom argued. “It’s really more of a list.”
Now the laughter came from Jett and me while the rest of them groaned and blushed.
“What’s the update on Longbourne?” Jett asked in the direction of Marcus and Maisie, who had taken over the corporate end of things.
“They miss you two working with us,” Mom answered before they could, making hard eye contact with me. “I’ve seen their team’s marketing, and it’s beautiful, but it could use your touch. No offense, darling,” she added, smiling at Maisie.
“None taken,” she answered with a smile of her own. And she was genuine—we all knew Mom knew jack about marketing and probably hadn’t seen anything. She just wanted me to be involved in some context, any context.
“I’m sure they’re doing perfectly fine on their own, Mom.”
“But they would be doing better with you.”
“Mom—”
“I’m only saying that you’re so talented, dear. And you’re off working for the bookshop and now with that big firm. And I’m not the only one who feels like you’d rather work with everyone but your family.”
Half of everyone looked into their soup, and the other half glared at Mom. The argument was so worn out, I didn’t have it in me to fight.
“Longbourne’s team has it well in hand, Mom, and Wasted Words had no one before I started there.”
“Don’t they have the Darcy’s now? I still don’t understand why they need you so desperately.”
“Because I know how the shop works, what its clientele wants. I’m an advisor, and I really enjoy—”
“I’m only suggesting that they don’t need you as much as we do,” Mom said. “I understand that you don’t want to work in the shop and you don’t care about the greenhouse—”
“That is not true—”
“—but you are part of this family, Elaine Bennet. Everyone contributes in their way.”
“Jett doesn’t,” I argued, “and I never hear you on his case about it. Why am I the lucky one? You’ve always favored the boys”—I stopped her from speaking with a gesture—“and don’t deny it. I know I’m a disappointment, Mom, but please, stop making it a topic of conversation at the dinner table.”
For a handful of seconds, it was dead silent in the room as Mom and I locked horns. But her face wasn’t angry—it rarely was. Instead, it was full of the quiet disappointment of a mother’s dashed hopes.
“Maisie, the stew was delicious. Was that fennel in it?” Tess asked, breaking the silence.
And with the change of subject, dinner was over. Kash pushed back his chair and began gathering up bowls while Luke and Marcus cleared the table of what was left of the meal. Jett and I would take the dishes tonight, and I was glad we could hide away in our corner of the kitchen, where Mom would hopefully leave me alone to do our work. Because once that was done, we could get the hell out of this house so I could breathe again.
I grabbed some glasses and fled to the kitchen, lining them up next to the sink so I could prep, first filling one side with hot, soapy water. Then finding fresh towels for Jett and me. I felt him approach and threw it in his direction without looking.
“Oh!” Mom squeaked her surprise, and with niggling dread, I turned to her.
I’d apparently hit her square in the face, and she laughed, her twisted, arthritic hands gathering up the towel to hand it back.
“I’m sorry,” I said quietly, taking the dish towel.
“I am too.” She paused, tracing my features with her gaze. “I shouldn’t go on like that—I know I shouldn’t, and I’m always breaking m
y promise to myself not to bring it up. But I can’t seem to help myself.”
I offered a resigned smile.
“When you were a little girl, I always imagined you would be a miniature of me. That you’d love what I loved, see things the way I see them. But instead, you went in a direction all your own. I’m proud of you, Elaine. But I’m still mourning that dream that you’d carry on the tradition. Longbourne has always been a family affair, and to have you and Julius missing from our business isn’t easy for me. That’s all.”
I took one of her hands, thumbing the fine bones on the back. “I know, Mom. And I love you, but you have got to let this go.”
“I will. Someday, I will. But in the meantime, I’ll start with banishing the topic from dinner.”
I chuckled, opening my arms for a hug. Mom gave the best hugs. I didn’t know what it was about it. The splay of her hands or the squeeze that was somehow the perfect amount of pressure to make you feel both safe and loved. Maybe it was the shift of her hand as she rubbed my back or the hook of her chin on my shoulder. But I felt her heart in every second, knew that no matter what, she loved me without condition, even if I’d gone my own way.
She didn’t let go until I did—another of her magical hug traits. She cupped my cheek and smiled. “I love you, Laneybug. And I’m proud of you, even if I am a greedy old lady and want you all for myself.”
“I love you too,” I said on a laugh. “Can I come early next weekend? Maybe we can wander around the greenhouse and get together a few bouquets.”
“It’s a date,” she said with a wink.
And with a final squeeze of my hand, she shuffled back into the dining room.
Only then did the rest of them file in, arms laden with dishes. Once Jett’s arms were empty, he put on one of Mom’s aprons—the turquoise one with the giant red roses on it—and tossed me the one with all the marigolds backed by a shade of pink so bright, my eyes burned if I looked too long.
“You okay?” he asked, reaching into the soapy water for a dish to scrub.
I sighed. “It’s really not fair that she never gives you shit for working somewhere else.”