My phone dinged with a new text message from Drew as I entered the house. I called her back with a smile. We hadn't been talking as much lately, and I think she could sense that I was getting better every day. She and Gavin were still together and deliriously happy. Tristan was still on our do-not-discuss list, and she rarely brought him up anymore anyway. Sometimes I wanted to ask about him, the words sat on my lips, but I decided to let us be what we were -- a brief summer fling.
“Have you met any locals?” Drew asked cheerfully.
“Not really. The woman that owns the coffee shop, and the owner of the hardware store remembered me from the summer.”
“That guy’s like sixty. I was thinking you could meet some people your own age. I feel bad that you’re alone up there.” I could hear the frown on her face.
“I'm good.”
“Well, maybe you should work on meeting some people. Get out a little bit, G.”
“I'm not really an out person, but I'll keep it in mind.” I laughed. “How’s work?”
“Okay. Finally caught up from the summer. Dad was a little pissed that I was backed up―margaritas on the beach aren’t really conducive to work, I’ve learned.”
“I imagine not.” We both laughed before the line was silent for a few beats.
“Heard from Kyle?” Drew knew we’d ended on a sour note.
“Leaves messages and texts every day,” I sighed.
“He still being a dick?”
“Sometimes. Some days he begs, others he can be snarky. He’s hurt, I guess. He still thinks we’re going to get married. He thinks I need time to get the beach house out of my system, that I’ll come back because I always do.”
“Wow.”
“Yeah, he’s not dealing well.”
“He took advantage of your love and loyalty for a long time, honey. Don’t let him get to you.”
I winced when she referenced my loyalty, because it had only taken one summer with a gorgeous man for my loyalty to plummet.
“And don’t do that to yourself―I can feel the waves of guilt through the phone. He was terrible to you for a long time. He broke your relationship first, you bought that beach house without him for a reason, Georgia. Remember that.”
“I know. It doesn’t excuse what I did though. I wish I would have ended things at the beginning of the summer before I made such a mess of things.”
“I wish you would dropped his ass years ago,” she mumbled.
“I know,” I said.
“You’re okay, G? Really okay?” Drew asked softly.
“I'm better than I’ve ever been,” I said with a smile.
“You sound good.”
“I am. So whadya say -- next summer?”
“I'm not sure I'm ready for that already.” We laughed together.
“It's really great here in the off-season. You should come visit.”
“I will, G.” She paused and a few silent moments, pregnant with so much left unsaid, passed between us. “Look, I know I’m not supposed to mention him, but Gavin’s worried. He hardly answers our calls, he’s withdrawn and pulled away from the business. He keeps saying he needs time, but he’s bad, Georgia. I know you thought he would get over you, but I don’t think he has. I just want you to know that.”
“Drew…” I choked on the lump that had lodged in my throat.
“I know, Georgia. I have to go, but I'll talk to you soon, ’kay?”
“Okay,” I mumbled, hardly focusing on her words, thoughts of Tristan taking over my brain.
“And if you need anything call me.”
“Okay.”
“Love you, G.”
“Love you too.” I whispered.
Thirty-One
Georgia
THE WEEKS CONTINUED to fly by as I watched fall ease into winter. Despite the fact that I had no one to cook for, I still made nice dinners and froze the leftovers. I left the grocery store, cart overflowing with bags, to an overcast sky, and walked across the parking lot to my car. A Saturday evening in December and the parking lot was all but empty, the store closing early for lack of business. I stopped to load my bags in the back seat when I heard a dog whining at my feet. I turned to find a happy golden retriever with a wagging tail and bright and shining eyes staring back at me. A smile spread across my face as I bent to give him a scratch behind the ears. His tongue hung out, slobbering as he wagged his tail so hard his whole back half was moving.
“Charlie!” A voice called as it rounded the corner. My heart beat erratically in the cavity of my chest as I looked up. My eyes took in the light blue denim and fitted thermal shirt, sleeves rolled to the elbows, hugging the line of his lean body. The sculpted lips and high cheekbones, a lock of golden hair falling across his forehead. “Charlie, come on.” He smacked his palm on his thigh to get the dog’s attention.
“Tristan,” I breathed the name, barely audible to my own ears. His bright, green eyes, hidden behind dark lashes, slowly turned and met my own. The memories of our summer together came crashing back to me. Cuddling on the porch swing and reading on the beach. Teasing at the vineyard, and sailing the coast. That heart-stopping smile and eyes that sparkled as if amused by a private joke.
“Georgia?” He breathed. “What are you doing here?” His eyes searched mine.
“I came back.”
“To the beach house? When?” He patted Charlie as he spoke.
“Beginning of November,” I answered.
“You’ve been here for more than a month?”
“Yeah, I’ve been fixing up the place for winter.”
“You’re staying? Permanently? What about Kyle? Is he here?” He looked around the parking lot before his eyes landed back on me.
A genuine smile lifted my lips. “I'm staying, hopefully forever. I don't think anything could pull me away from here, not anymore. And Kyle isn't with me.” A frowned danced across my face. “We’re not really… together,” I finished. He blinked quickly but remained silent. “What about you? Why are you here? And whose dog is this? Oh God, are you with Briana or Kelsey or whoever?” It was now my turn to search the parking lot, looking for one of the beautiful girls that had been hanging off him all summer. My heart hammered and suddenly I wanted to bolt. Jump into my car and drive at high speeds back to the beach house. Sit out on the back porch with a coffee, or a margarita, and pretend I hadn't run into the man who'd had my stomach in a twist all summer.
“The slut parade?” That sexy lopsided grin spread across his face and my heartbeat roared in my ears. That grin was so much better in person than the memory ever was. I'd forgotten how that smile had taken my breath away every day this past summer. And the memory of it had had me aching since the day I'd left him. “No, I haven't seen them since I’ve been back.” He suddenly stood. Charlie jumped up, looking ready to follow him anywhere. I stood with them. Was this it? Was that his signal that we were walking away? Because now that I’d seen him, I didn’t think I could walk away again.
“How long have you been back?” I murmured.
“I never really left, I guess.” He shrugged as his eyes held mine.
“What? Since the hurricane?” I was confused.
“Well, I went back to Jacksonville and when the hurricane cleared out a few days later, Gavin drove me back to get the boat. But when I got here, I just couldn't leave again. I stayed on my boat for a while until I managed to work something else out.”
“You moved here?” I was still confused. We'd both had a wild and beautiful summer here, and neither one of us had been able to leave it behind.
“I bought a house, Georgia.”
My eyes shot up in surprise.
“I bought the cottage. Down the beach…” he trailed off, waiting for my response. Information began clicking together in my brain.
“The cottage? The dog, the stranger―that was you?”
“Umm… not sure where you’re going with that…” He smiled that beautiful smile again, all flirty and charming and heart-stopping.
“A few weeks ago, I saw someone walking a dog, and they went into the cottage. That was you?” I whispered in shock.
“I take Charlie for a walk every morning.” He scratched the dog behind his ears playfully.
“You bought the cottage?” I still couldn’t wrap my mind around what he’d said.
“Our cottage? Yeah,” he answered as his achingly beautiful, green eyes bore into my brown ones.
“I can't believe you were right there.”
“And you were too,” he murmured, a thoughtful expression on his face. Then a big, fat raindrop landed on my cheek and I squinted as the skies opened and buckets of rain fell down on us. I shrieked and ran to the driver’s side of my car. Turning, I saw Tristan watching me with an enticing grin. Charlie's head was cocked to one side as his tail wagged tentatively.
“Dinner?” I called through the rain.
“When?” He stepped closer before pausing, shoulders hunched and hands tucked into the pockets of his faded blue jeans.
“Tonight. Manicotti?” I offered, remembering the first day we’d met when he’d helped me make the rich tomato dish. My heart swelled at all the possibility dependent on his answer, right here, right now.
“You Italian or something?” He smirked as the rain poured down his face, his white thermal clinging, following the lean line of his body. Jeans darkening with raindrops, drenched hair hanging in his face. My fingers ached to swipe the errant strands out of his eyes.
So I did.
I took a step and his eyes widened in surprise. I took another, and another until we stood face to face. With a tender smile I smoothed the unruly hair from his forehead, letting my fingers thread through the strands. I grinned as a small smile lit his face, his eyes sparking mischievously. I brought my other hand up to cup his cheek and I leaned in to peck him on the lips. I didn't mean for it to escalate, I didn't mean for it to do anything, it just felt like the right thing to do. It felt like every fiber of my being was pleading for me to do it, urging me on. Magnetic energy pulling us together.
Tristan's lips remained motionless against mine for a few beats before both of his hands came up to hold my face, the pads of his thumbs caressing my cheeks, something he’d been doing since the beginning of us. His lips moved against mine and his tongue thrust out to caress my rain-drenched flesh. I parted my lips and pressed into him, our lips melded together, moving, dancing, caressing, our tongues tangling lazily.
It felt right.
It felt like I was finally right where I wanted to be. It felt like I was home.
PART II
Thirty-Two
Tristan
two months earlier
I glanced at the screen of my phone before whipping it across the interior of the Jeep. I heard it land with a thud on the seat. Second time today the crazy bitch had called me and I was so over it. So fucking over it. Apparently, she didn’t understand what had happened between us was a one-night-only kinda deal. Don’t get me wrong, not that I wasn’t flattered that she wanted an encore, a repeat performance—that wasn’t even to say I wouldn’t have been interested in the past—but it was a different time. This was now, and I wasn’t interested.
I’d been back in North Carolina for three weeks. Three weeks of living on my boat. Sleeping on a lumpy bed and showering in a too-tiny boat shower. Three weeks since my closest friend Gavin had dropped me here with a pat on the shoulder and a despondent look on his face. I didn’t want his pity; I didn’t even want to see his face. There was only one face that played on repeat in my head; one beautiful smile, one pair of deep brown eyes that flashed when she laughed. In the past month, there was only one face I saw when I was buried deep inside someone.
Scratch that.
All fucking summer there was only one face I saw when I was buried inside someone and hers was the only face I could bear to see in the flesh right now. Everyone else looked at me with a flash of pity. Drew tried to talk to me, tried to reassure me, tried to make me understand, but there was no understanding.
Georgia had left.
Georgia had promised it would only be a few days. Fast-forward an entire fucking month without a single call. She was fucking haunting me, and now, here I was, docked on the North Carolina coast because I couldn’t fucking get away from her no matter how hard I tried. And truth was, I shouldn't have been surprised. This is exactly what had happened to my dad when my mom left—he'd collapsed into himself. Isolated and pushed all thoughts of happiness away. I understood his coping mechanism now, it's exactly what I was doing.
When I'd returned to Jacksonville a month ago after the hurricane had driven us out of North Carolina, I'd walked into my apartment with a lighter step than when I’d left. I'd had faith that it wasn’t over for Georgia and me. We may have had a rough summer—fucking and fighting, stolen glances and heartbreaking moments at the beach house, but we’d grown much too close to let this be the end. I felt her in my bones. She’d been tattooed on my heart.
And then a fucking week went by.
I called her over and over. I sent texts. I'd talked to Georgia's best friend, Drew, to make sure my dark-haired girl was okay. I grew more worried. Finally, after two weeks of nothing, knowing she was alive and well, and just back with Kyle, I threw my hands up. I tossed in the towel, got torn-up drunk, and made a call I never should have made.
Sophie.
Sophie-fucking-Watkins, the very woman I’d been escaping this past spring. She’d tried to call me off and on all summer, sent me random texts and pictures of herself nearly fucking naked and I’d ignored every single one of them. I’d ignored them because there was only one woman I could focus on all summer. Through it all—all the ups and downs, the back and forth, the lies and truth—she consumed my every waking thought.
So when I'd been rip-roaring drunk that night a few weeks ago and made the stupid-ass decision to send Sophie one little text, she’d replied immediately.
I fucked her that night. All night.
I fucked her, trying to fuck another girl out of my system. She was wild, uninhibited, and nearly crazy. Scratch that—completely fucking crazy—but it was hot. It was just too bad my drunken brain had morphed her long blonde hair into chestnut brown, her bright blue eyes into the deepest shade of melted chocolate I’d ever seen. What I was unable to ignore were her high-pitched moans, so I cranked the music on my iPod dock and drowned those out too.
My entire fucking body ached for Georgia and I was looking for an escape. Something to fill the void. To feel like myself again; not someone completely fucking shattered by a woman who hadn't chosen me.
I woke up that morning, tangled up in Sophie, and immediately hated myself. I heaved a desperate sigh and she stirred. Just as her eyes fluttered open, I locked my gaze on her and told her it was time to go. Pain passed across her eyes before they hardened. She called me an asshole and climbed out of bed, throwing her barely-there red dress over her head and stomping out of my apartment.
Fast-forward to fucking now and the crazy bitch hadn’t stopped calling.
She called me every single fucking day.
It felt like a rewind of this spring. Sophie riding my ass, and not in the good way. So once again, I found myself in need of an escape. The need to escape Gavin’s worried glances, Drew trying to console me about Georgia, and the crazy ass blonde who wanted a repeat. I treated Sophie like shit, I knew that—I’d used her—but what pissed me off more was that she wanted more. She had no self-respect and still wanted more after I’d kicked her out of my bed the next morning. I knew I was fucked up, but I couldn’t help it because someone had fucked with my head, left her mark, and walked away.
Walked away for fucking ever.
When Gavin brought me back to this little beach in North Carolina, I wasn’t sure what my plan was. He was worried because we had a new account we were trying to land with a Fortune 500 company. I reassured him I could work from my boat. He knew that, but he’d been worried nonetheless.
Turns ou
t, he was right to worry. I did the bare minimum, we had conference calls when needed, and I did the very least required of me. The rest of the time, I sat on the deck of my boat and watched the world go by, watched summer fade into autumn, the tourists slowly thin, and my mind replayed every single moment Georgia and I had had together this summer.
I thought about getting a dog. Was a boat a place for a dog? I’d seen it plenty of times, but I wasn’t interested in a puppy; I wanted a calm, loyal old dog. One that would always be there no matter how much I fucked up. So I went to the local animal shelter and told them what I wanted. An old dog was my only requirement.
They steered me to a sad-looking golden retriever and I knew he was perfect. Charlie was his name. A perfect name to play skipper on my boat.
And Charlie was a perfect boat dog. He livened up a little when I walked him out of the shelter. Our first stop was the pet store for some supplies. He sauntered in somberly, wandered across to a cute little poodle, mounted her, and gave a few half-hearted thrusts. The owner of the perfectly coifed female glared at me as she jerked her dog away. Charlie looked up at me. I shrugged. “I get you. Gotta give it a shot, even if they are out of your league.” Charlie wagged his tail once before lifting his leg on the corner of an aisle and pissing on the floor. Fucking fantastic.
So there we were, Charlie and me in the front seat, Sophie blowing up my phone, Gavin worried about where my head was, Drew sending me a text every day, asking how I was doing, and all I could think about was a mass of wild brown hair and a beautiful smile I’d had all summer and had been ripped away from me.
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