Cassie fielded the disgruntled older woman as they collected their things from the overhead bin, and they headed out into the airport. Georgia had another long day ahead of her, filled with phone interviews, a short reading and signing that night, and finally, a morning talk show the next day. Then it was off to God knew where. She fought not to think about Edinburgh, about the pull she felt to turn around, get right back on a plane and go back to him.
Her phone buzzed in her pocket, and she pulled it out just as the driver took her overnight bag from her shoulder.
Text me when you land so I know you’re safe. Talk to you soon.
Her heart leapt at the sight of the words. He texted. He cared. He didn’t disappear.
This felt almost foreign.
Shit, she thought.
“What’s wrong?” Cassie asked.
Apparently, she’d said it aloud. “Nothing, just – it’s nothing.”
She pulled up his text and typed her response.
Landed safe.
She closed the phone, tucked it back into her pocket and climbed into the black sedan. The phone chimed to life before she’d even buckled her seat belt. Her stomach burst into rabid butterflies each time. She pulled her phone back out, averting her eyes from Cassie’s knowing smile.
Good. I’m glad.
She stared at the phone. It was simple enough, the words followed by a stings of x’s, the written sign of Scottish endearment. He probably wouldn’t text again for hours, maybe days. He’d gotten the information he needed. That’s what men did, right? Get the point across and then not think about you again for days –
A second text came in as she stared at the phone.
Will I sound like a stalker if I say I miss you already? xxxx
“Fuck.”
“Damn it, Gigi. What’s wrong?”
Georgia looked up to Cassie’s smiling face and her cheeks burned. How the hell was she going to play it cool with him texting her messages that made her face flush red and her stomach twist into knots? She pursed her lips tight and turned the phone for Cassie to see.
Cassie raised an eyebrow. “So when should I book your flight back to Edinburgh?”
Georgia fought not to smile from ear to ear.
“Wir lieben Ihre Bücher. Ich hab heute Nacht der letzte gelesen.”
Georgia smiled at her interviewer, doing her best to pretend she wasn’t listening intently to a translator in her ear. The earpiece was jabbing her uncomfortably, but she’d smiled through old women describing anal sex, she could smile through this.
“Oh, I’m glad you like them,” she said, and the translation began before she’d finished her last word.
This was the extent of her day. Get up, skip breakfast, go to signing, spend hours at signing, catch quick lunch, sign some more, head across town, attend some dinner or be interviewed by some local talk show, magazine reporter, or college student writing a paper. Georgia worked hard to remain accessible, even as the crowds at her signing events began to grow beyond her comprehension. They were selling tickets for them now, making a bigger spectacle of her readings than she’d ever expected. Burgess called regularly to pressure her for pages, and Sarah Elise called often to talk international rights, audiobook rights, and finally film rights. She’d finally sold them for more money than she knew what to do with, and Sarah Elise was very appreciative of that fact.
Yet, despite her busy schedule, her hired assistant, and the pressure to produce more pages, Garrett was the most pressing thought in her mind. They’d texted since she left Edinburgh, simple small talk, some flirting from time to time. Yet, today his texts had grown more affectionate. So much so that she asked him if he was drunk at one point.
No, not drunk. Just curious when I’m going to see you again.
The text came in and left her with knots in her stomach. My god, she thought. He must be deranged.
“Well, of course he wants to see you, nerd,” Cassie had said upon hearing this conundrum. Still, Georgia felt almost confused by it. She’d just left a little over a week before. Sure, she fell asleep each night with a smile on her face thinking about him. Sure, his morning text was the highlight of every day, but yet the thought of it all meaning something more, the thought of him actually seeking her company – this was new. This was new, and it just about scared the shit out of her.
The text came in early one afternoon. She couldn’t answer. She didn’t know how to answer.
Rather than answer, she went about her day, being hustled across Berlin, Germany.
Even in German, the questions were very much the same –
Wo finden Sie Ihre Ideen?
Gibt es einen Mann?
Hat er sie geschoben, oder hat sie sprang?
The German interviewer asked the usual questions, and Georgia answered with her usual answers.
I don’t know, I guess I just have a great imagination.
Not yet, but I’ll let you know when I find him.
You’ll have to read the last book to find that out.
Georgia threw a German word in from time to time, doing her best to learn the language in a country that seemed as fond of her books as the English speaking world. She had to take extra time during her signing in Berlin, trying to decipher their handwriting and their unfamiliar names.
Did that Gunther have an umlaut over the ‘u’ in his name?
Even Cassie was of little help, relying on their hired translator through much of the day. By the time they made it back to the hotel, Georgia was exhausted and clutching her phone in wait of Garrett’s next text.
Despite the regularity of his texts, they still made her grin like an idiot.
You done with your day, Mein Schatz.
“What’s he saying now?”
Georgia smiled down at her phone. “I don’t know actually.”
I am. What does that mean?
He texted back, immediately. You’re the one learning German. You tell me.
Once settled in their hotel, Cassie began to buzz with energy. She had been all day. “Are you wicked nervous? I’d be so wicked nervous.”
Cassie was pacing around their hotel suite, her jittery over-caffeinated nerves adding to the fervor of her excitement. Georgia was a little nervous, but she still had another ten minutes before the call was meant to come in.
I don’t have a translator with me anymore! What does it mean?
“Are you freaking out? God, he’s such a good actor, he’s going to do so good as Douglas MacCready. I can’t freakin wait. God, how are you this calm?”
Georgia smiled at her and shrugged. “He’s just a man.”
“Yeah, the dreamiest man to ever walk the face of the -”
Georgia’s phone chimed in her hand, the familiar ringtone she set for Garrett alone.
I’ll let you guess. ;)
Georgia groaned, but she was still grinning like an idiot as she began typing her response. The phone burst to life in her hand – an unfamiliar UK number.
“Hello?”
“Hello, is this Victoria – ehm, Georgia? This is Germaine.”
“You got me,” she said, settling into her seat by the window.
He wasted no time, drilling her for info about his character. His questions were deeper than she expected –
I know his father was absent from his life. Do you know who his father was?
What draws him to Deirdre in the beginning?
Has Douglas ever been in love before Deirdre?
Surprisingly, despite being thrown off by the depth of these questions, she knew the answers.
His father was a captain of one of His Majesty’s ships. He may come into play in the third book.
Her courage. He considers her braver than most men. And she’s not afraid of him.
He has been in relationships before Deirdre, but has never been truly in love before her, no.
Germaine’s accent was as soothing as a warm bath, remindi
ng her of another fellow whose text she desperately wanted to respond to. Her phone buzzed halfway through their phone call, alerting her to another of his texts.
Cassie hovered nearby throughout the conversation, giddy and giggly as she listened to every word. Georgia just smiled. She was on the phone with one of the British Television’s leading men, and felt no different than if she were talking to Mr. Stevens, head of catering.
“Is there anything that ye feel I should know before we start going forward?”
Georgia took a deep breath. “There is, but I need your word that you won’t repeat it to anyone. It can’t come out until the third book.”
A book that she’d suddenly found herself unable to stop writing, pouring words out in every free moment she had, like some dam had been blown free from the bend in a river.
“Aye, of course. Your secret’s safe with me.”
“Good. She jumped. Willingly.”
“What?!”
Both Germaine and Cassie spoke simultaneously. Georgia glared at Cassie as her expression changed in a strange betrayed and excited glee.
“Christ, she did?”
Georgia smiled. “Yes. And he already knows. It comes out in the third book, but if you’re going to play him, I think you need to know what he knows.”
“Wait, he’s known the whole time?”
Both Germaine and Cassie sputtered their surprised response at this spoiler. They were the only two people in the world to know.
“How does he know?”
“He was on the ship when she jumped.”
Cassie was out of her seat. “You’re kidding! He already knew her?! Oh my god, Georgia, people are going to freak out.”
Georgia hushed Cassie, but Germaine was mirroring her response on the other end of the line, albeit in a calmer way.
“My God, I’m honored, Georgia. Can’t even express how honored I am to have ye tell me.”
She smiled and finished up her phone call, still laughing at Cassie’s reaction as she stormed around the suite, glaring at her and coming to conclusions one by one. Georgia couldn’t pretend that she didn’t relish this response. She’d seen the fervor in the faces of hundreds – thousands of readers, but this – one of her closest friends and one of the most beloved actors in the UK both reacting with equal fervor; it made her feel bright and shiny for a moment.
And yet even in the bliss of that moment, Georgia wanted nothing more than to text Garrett back, demanding a translation of Mein Schatz – and just to hear his ringtone again. Because his ringtone meant he still liked her, and still wanted her to know.
It felt nicer than she could express.
Georgia hung up the phone and waved Cassie off, turning her attention to her text messages.
Her phone burst to life again instantly, vibrating in her hand as it sang Garrett’s ringtone. Georgia’s stomach shot into her throat. He was calling.
She jumped up from her seat, searching around the room as though she were naked and he was pounding at the door.
“Are you serious? You just got off the phone with Germaine fucking Ross, and this makes you act like a fangirl?”
Georgia flipped Cassie the bird as she rushed through the suite and into her room, hearing Cassie call after her, “You owe me some answers, woman! I need to know about the book!”
“Hello?” Georgia said, nervously.
“It means ‘my treasure.’”
The sound of his voice, the familiar cadence and rhythm of the way he spoke; it ran through her like an electric current.
She stood there in her quiet hotel room, her stomach in warm knots, listening to the subtle sounds of Garrett’s world on the other end of the phone. She wanted to be a part of that world – a part of the background noise of his life. She wanted it so bad, it left her shaking.
She took a deep breath. “I’ll have Cassie buy my ticket tonight. I’ll be in Edinburgh in a few days.”
He went silent a moment. She waited for a response, fear creeping in. Did he not want her to come anymore?
When he spoke, she could hear the smile in the tone of his voice. “Christ, I can’t fuckin wait.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The movement of people within the train waxed and waned as they drew closer to Edinburgh. Cassie booked her flight back as soon as the signing in Berlin was done. The only nonstop flight landed in Glasgow. The train between the two was a little over an hour. It felt like an eternity.
Unlike last time, this separation was peppered with phone calls and kissy face emoticons, many of them from him. She stared out the train window, her stomach in thunderous knots. She wanted to see him, smell him, feel his touch, but despite all his sweet texts and attentive, timely phone calls, Georgia was waiting for the other shoe to drop. What if this time, he saw her and suddenly didn’t want her anymore? What if the five pounds she gained gorging herself on French and Bavarian pastries the past two weeks made her no longer attractive? Her jeans were digging into her belly even as she sat in that train, starving, unable to eat due to nerves.
She wanted to see him, get to touch him again instead of having to make due with inappropriate Facetime sessions while tucked into her German, French, Austrian hotel room. She felt her face burn hot at the thought of those conversations. She’d seen Garrett do very inappropriate things to himself in the days since she’d last seen him.
He’d seen her do pretty inappropriate things as well. Still, the thought of seeing him in person again made her so nervous, she contemplated locking herself in a hotel room and becoming a strange hermit, throwing copies of her manifesto out the window at unsuspecting pedestrians.
Georgia couldn’t pretend anymore. She’d fallen madly for the bastard, and she was scared shitless. She’d known heartbreak before, and from something that felt almost as promising. She wasn’t sure her heart could take another heartbreak, and despite all her pretense, she knew with complete certainty that Garrett – if he wanted to - could break her heart. He could shatter it.
The mere thought of that made her stomach turn, again.
“Drink, miss?”
Georgia smiled up to the woman with the snack cart. “No. Thank you.”
She hadn’t eaten in twenty four hours, she wasn’t about to start now.
The Indian woman gave her a nod and a smile, then went on her way. Georgia clasped her hands together at her waist and waited.
Ten minutes left.
Her legs were bare due to the blue and yellow sundress she was wearing, and her tired old cowboy boots were clinking against the wall of the train with each fidgeting shake. By all accounts, she looked damn good in that sundress. Still, as the train pulled into the next station, she began to feel almost embarrassed by her attire. Did she look like she was trying too hard?
The familiar chime of the speakers coming on startled her. She craned to listen over the cacophony of moving travelers – they were at Waverly. They were early.
Oh god, oh god, oh god, oh god.
Georgia rose from her seat, willing the other travelers to shield her from view as she slunk off the train and stood on the platform. The slow trickle of people toward the landing doors began to surge. Dozens of heads, all focused on the floor before their feet, all hustling through, heading for the city outside. She watched the crowd around her, moving with them, terrified to spot him up ahead. The smile caught her first as his dark hair appeared over almost everyone else - the only face not trained on the floor. He stood taller than many, scanning the incoming crowd from the station doorway. Her face burned at the sight of him. She instantly began searching the floor for something to inspect, anything to give reason to her sudden need to avert her eyes. She marched forward, heading toward him, but unable to look at him. Finally, she stopped in the middle of the station, a smile aching on her cheeks. Two dark sneakers appeared walking across the floor before her. They stopped just a couple steps in front of her.
“Hey you.”
She be
amed, still unable to look at him. His hand appeared before her, reaching for hers. She let him take it, and he pulled her into his arms, resting his chin on the top of her head. Were she made of steel, she’d have melted. He squeezed her, then released her just enough to look at her. She kept her eyes down.
“Are ye ever gonnae look at me?”
She shook her head, pinching her lips between her teeth. He chuckled, his chest shuddering under her cheek.
He smelled so good. He was warm and solid, smelling of laundry detergent and deodorant, and a hint of some cologne. She wanted to look at him, but she feared doing so would cause her face to crack from the ferocity of her smile. She was almost embarrassed to think of him seeing how happy she was to finally be near him.
Georgia glanced down at his ensemble; hooded zip-up sweatshirt, jeans, and sneakers, a tattered copy of Cat’s Cradle in his hand. She’d spent no less than forty minutes perfecting her damn eyeliner, but he’d clearly tossed on any old thing. She cringed. Did she look desperate? Did he think she was trying too hard?
Garrett took her hand and pulled her, and she followed, letting him lead her out of the station. The air outside was crisp with the evening, despite it still being summer. It was the kind of Scottish cold that settles into your bones as the sun goes down. Garrett stopped long enough to unzip his hooded sweatshirt and hold it out for her. In the split second she glanced up to meet his gaze, the butterflies in her stomach suddenly morphed into angry badgers. Her only answer to the sensation was to oblige and slip her arms into the waiting sweatshirt.
He wrapped it around her bare shoulders, rubbing his hand along her upper arm before grabbing up her bag. “So ye can look at me, I notice?”
She blushed, her hand coming up to her face to shield her from being seen. He took her hand and led her up to the main street, glancing in each direction in search of a cab. He led her to the taxi line, and they climbed in, both still silent.
Garrett gave his address and the taxi burst into motion, heading down the cobblestone streets of Old Town. Georgia watched the world going by outside, trying to pretend the air between them wasn’t bristling. Garret squeezed her hand.
Writing Mr. Right Page 15
