Always You: A Sweet Romantic Comedy (ABCs of Love Collection Books 5-8)

by Brenna Jacobs

  He wrestled with that question as he walked the hallway to his ground-floor room. A room on the first floor rather than a suite seemed like a difficult but economical sacrifice; then he’d heard Alice’s story. Losing an estate and having to sell a favorite painting to become solvent again seemed like a hardship until set against the background of Alice’s life. Her story had filled him with shame for not only feeling sorry for himself, but also for not being strong enough to face a future different from what he’d always known.

  As he walked into his room, he was more aware of its luxury. When he’d checked in that afternoon, he had been disappointed by its small size and lack of a view, but now he noticed, and appreciated, the marble tub and well-appointed furniture. He may not have had a view of the lush hotel grounds, but he did have a comfortable bed and a really nice TV and a million mind-numbing, binge-worthy programs to choose from, if he felt so inclined.

  Geoffrey sat on the bed and slipped off his shoes with Alice’s words running through his head. As tempting as it was to forget everything that had just happened and everything that lay ahead, Alice’s statement that he couldn’t keep ignoring what was happening repeated over and over in his brain. Isn’t that what his father had done, escaping into gambling and alcohol to numb the worry? He glanced at the TV remote, tempted to escape his problems, but instead, he lay back and stared at the ceiling, replaying his conversation with Alice, particularly the parts that made him really uncomfortable.

  Why had her ideas and words bothered him so much?

  The answer he came to was difficult to admit, but when he’d settled on it, it felt true.

  He was afraid.

  Afraid to give up the lifestyle he enjoyed. Afraid to be rejected by his friends and peers when he would no longer be able to spend the kind of money they were able to spend. Afraid of what his mum would do—who she would be—without her family’s estate and the importance that came with it. Afraid of attaching his real name to his art and having it panned again.

  There were so many things to fear, but the one that hurt him the most was the fear that he wasn’t worthy of a woman like Alice.

  Why would a woman who could look disaster in the face and tell it to back off want to be with a man like him who ran and hid at the first sign of trouble? She deserved better.

  But that didn’t make him want her less.

  He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, and physical exhaustion from a week of sleepless nights overtook him.

  When he opened them again, the sky outside his room was dark and the clock said three a.m. A buzzing had woken him, and as he searched for its source, he realized it was his phone. The first thought that came to his mind was that maybe Alice was calling him. But the number on his phone belonged to his father. Because, of course, the idea that Alice would call him was ridiculous. If anyone should call anyone else, it was him. He owed her an apology.

  If that thought hadn’t scared him as much as every other unknown in his life, he would have ignored his father’s call and dialed her number. Instead, he stared at his phone, debating whether or not to accept a call from the man who was the cause of Geoffrey’s financial problems. If his dad hadn’t squandered his fortune, there would be enough money for the upkeep on the Grey estate without taking out loans or opening up the house as a museum. Things could have gone on as they always had with none of them worrying about money.

  But they hadn’t really been happy like that.

  And he never would have met Alice.

  He’d been happier with her over the last few weeks than he’d been for as long as he could remember. Maybe since his childhood.

  Geoffrey pushed the accept button and put the phone to his ear. “Hello, Dad. It’s three o’clock in the morning.”

  “Hello, Son. Where are you that it’s three in the morning?”

  “LA.”

  “Ah. Sorry. I didn’t realize. Shall I call back?”

  Geoffrey almost said yes, but he’d been asleep for roughly twelve hours. He wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep. Not to mention the fact that he was starving since he hadn’t eaten lunch or dinner.

  “I’m awake,” he answered, then sat up to prove it to himself. Which was a bad idea; he felt lightheaded enough he immediately decided to lie back down.

  “Good. Who’s the girl in the picture?”

  Even at his worst, Lord Ashburn had never missed an opportunity to tease his son in a good-natured way. Geoffrey let out a laugh that relieved some of the heaviness in his chest and replaced it with something close to love for his father. Appreciation, maybe?

  “She was supposed to be the curator for our museum.”

  “Supposed to be?”

  “Mr. Barclay pulled the funding. I hadn’t quite broken up with Clarissa.” Geoffrey rubbed at the pain in his brow that started every time he thought or talked about his predicament. “No funding, no museum, no job.”

  “Ah, woman scorned and all that?”

  “Exactly.”

  “And a father who’s spent all the money that could have gone toward the museum,” Lord Ashburn said so matter-of-factly, he actually took the sting out of the exact thought that had gone through Geoffrey’s head.

  “Water under the bridge,” he replied softly.

  Silence was followed by his father clearing his throat, then in a cracked voice saying, “Thank you.” He cleared his throat again, and with his next words his voice had returned to normal. “Was kissing her worth it?”

  Of all the questions Geoffrey had asked himself over the past week, that one had never entered his mind. It didn’t have to. Of all the things he regretted, kissing Alice was not one of them. “Without a doubt,” he answered.

  “And does she feel the same?”

  Geoffrey let out a long breath and covered his eyes with his arm. “She did. I may have been stupid enough to change her mind.”

  “Well, if she’s changed her mind once, she can change it again.”

  “It may be harder to convince her I’m worth kissing a second time around.” Kissing wasn’t the word he meant, but the l-word was too big.

  “Son, take it from a man who has learned the hard way; when you find a woman worth losing everything for, do whatever you can to make sure you don’t lose her. In the end, nothing else matters.”

  The phone crackled, reminding Geoffrey that his father was half a world away, and yet he’d never felt closer to him. “Thanks, Dad.”

  “Any time, my boy. Any time.” A voice in the background interrupted him, and when he spoke again it was to say goodbye. “Time’s up for me. I’m expected in group therapy.”

  Geoffrey said goodbye, then at the last second added, “I’m proud of you, Dad.”

  “Thank you, Son,” he said quickly, and then their phone call was cut off.

  Geoffrey took another crack at sitting up, and this time it stuck. “Right,” he muttered, then pushed himself to standing. “Shower.”

  His mouth felt like he’d sucked on cotton all night, and he’d slept in his clothes, but talking to his father had given him hope. He’d get cleaned up, wait for a saner time of morning, then go to Alice’s and apologize.

  No. He’d go to his agent first. It was time to go public with his identity. Once that was in motion, he would have proof for Alice of how wrong he was and how right she was.

  With a firm goal and destination in mind, Geoffrey put his fears behind him and moved forward with the momentum of a man who had a clear purpose for the first time in his life. He’d get Alice back even if it meant losing everything else. Especially his pride. That, in particular, had to go.

  At least most of it. He’d need a little bit of pride or self-love to get him through the criticism his art would receive and that would be attached to him instead of his alter ego, G. But Alice’s confidence in his art reignited his own. If someone as clear-headed, intelligent, and passionate as Alice Donnelly could see the value of his art, if she could see the meaning he’d put into it and take away her own meaning
from it, then he had enough reason to keep producing it. If she saw the value in it, then Geoffrey could quit pretending he was a fraud, no matter what anyone else said.

  He hoped she could still see something in him, too.

  Chapter Twenty

  Alice had been in Bakersfield for a week and was already spending almost as much time at a local coffee shop than at the two-bedroom house her mom was currently renting. They had better Wi-Fi and Billy couldn’t interrupt her, which made it a much better spot for her job search. Her mom wanted her to stay in Bakersfield and work at the Walmart until she found something else.

  Alice appreciated the advice but was not as much in favor of this idea.

  So, every day she spent a few hours at the coffee shop, and then a few more anywhere but at her mom’s. The house was just so small and depressing. Which is probably what Geoffrey felt staying in places that weren’t the same caliber as Binchley Hall or his London flat, but she didn’t care. If he wanted to get anywhere in life, he had to figure out that he couldn’t always get what he wanted.

  This morning, she had just sat in what had become her regular spot and pulled up her newsfeed when she came across the headline G Is British Nobility? Even with a picture of Geoffrey next to it, Alice had to read the headline twice more before she could believe it.

  She clicked on the headline, then waited the lifetime it took for the entire article to appear. Her neighbor back in LA had contacted her the day she left for Bakersfield to tell her a man with an English accent and very nice shoes had come by looking for her. Alice knew it had to be Geoffrey, but she hadn’t heard anything from him since she’d left. He hadn’t even responded to the email she’d sent with all the contact info he needed for Mary Sonntag and the message that she wouldn’t be the go-between anymore since she was no longer his employee.

  He’d likely received the email after he’d come by. Which is why he hadn’t tried to contact her again. She’d basically told him not to. Could she blame him for listening to her?

  As much as she didn’t want to, she missed talking to him and regretted not being more sympathetic to his situation. She had a hard time just listening to people’s problems instead of trying to solve them. Maybe that’s what Geoffrey had really needed. A listening ear.

  “Nope,” she whispered to herself. She had listened. She’d forgiven and tried to help him. But he’d wanted things to be easily solved, and that wasn’t possible. He’d needed a good helping of tough love, and it wasn’t her fault that he didn’t like her serving it to him. If they were ever going to have a chance, he’d have to be willing to do the hard work required of people not born with silver spoons in their mouths.

  But as she scanned the article, she understood that Geoffrey had listened, and her chest swelled the more she read. He’d done what she’d told him to do and gone public as G. Not only that, but the article included pictures of Re-Collecting and the unicorn painting side by side and the story of him using the unicorn flea market find as his inspiration. He let himself be vulnerable enough to describe how the sculpture’s name was not just about collecting what had been cast aside and reusing it, but also about recollecting his childhood and the time he spent alone studying the unicorn and finding comfort in it.

  Parts of his story Alice already knew, but then she got to the part she didn’t know and she could barely contain her excitement. Mary had determined the painting was at least from the late 1400’s and likely part of the New York triptych. And while she couldn’t absolutely confirm it was a Giotto, the brush strokes and methods matched the artist’s.

  “I knew it!” Alice nearly jumped from her chair. If she had been the only one in the shop, she would have, but the looks from the other patrons kept her in her seat. But they didn’t keep her from smiling and reading the rest of the article.

  Her smile fell somewhat when she got to the biggest reveal of the article, and likely the most important news for the Grey-Chatsworth clan: the price of the painting. Twenty-six million pounds. She had no idea what that was in dollars, only that it was more. It had been valued even higher than Alice had expected. If they sold, they’d be able to pay off their debts and still have money left over.

  But Geoffrey had come forward as G and told the story behind Re-Collecting. Why would he do that if he planned on selling the unicorn? Was he hoping the value of his sculpture would increase, and he could sell the two together? Or was he trying to drum up interest in both in order to show them together?

  She pulled out her phone and nearly dialed Geoffrey. She wanted to share his good news with him and ask him all the questions she had, but she stopped herself. Had she given up that right when she’d told him to contact Mary and figure things out for himself?

  Maybe.

  More likely, she’d given up the right when she’d walked out of the restaurant.

  In retrospect, she’d done the right thing. He’d obviously taken all the advice he hated hearing from her, but he hadn’t bothered to reach out to her or thank her. And after everything she’d told him about her family and her life, why would he? Now that he knew the truth about just how “working class” she was—and given his feelings about people who had to work for a living—he’d want to distance himself as far as possible from her. Wouldn’t he?

  Alice closed the article and went to the website she needed for her job search. She got as far as opening it when her phone buzzed. The only person who ever called her anymore was her mother, and when Alice picked up her phone that’s exactly whose number flashed on her screen. She switched her phone to silent, then set it back on the table face down. She couldn’t face hearing her mother’s encouraging voice right now without breaking down. Whatever her mother had to say could wait until after Alice had sent out a few resumes.

  But no matter how many jobs Alice came across that looked interesting, she couldn’t help compare them to the job she’d almost had. Which led her back to thinking about the article. Which led her to thinking about Geoffrey and the great moments they’d shared. Which led her back to the one terrible moment they’d shared.

  The thought loop went ’round and ’round until she finally closed her computer and decided to grab some lunch then go home and binge watch the worst TV show possible for the next few hours. Carjackers was a definite possibility.

  As she walked to her car, Alice checked her phone and saw her mom had called about ten times and left almost as many voicemails.

  Alice listened to the first one, worried she’d been ignoring her mom for an hour when there was some kind of emergency.

  “Just wondering where you are and when you’re going to be home.” Her mom’s words both put Alice at ease and annoyed her at the same time, especially when she listened to four other messages which all said pretty much the same thing. Why had she called so many times if there wasn’t an emergency? Her mother generally stayed out of Alice’s business, and even when she didn’t, she’d never called five times in an hour.

  To be safe, Alice decided to check in at home before getting lunch. If everything was as okay as it sounded, she’d take her mom and Billy to eat with her. That’s something they’d only been able to do on special occasions when Alice was a little girl because money was always tight. She’d never be that poor again if she could help it, so why not treat her family to lunch even if she was worried about money?

  When Alice pulled up to the house, an unfamiliar car was parked in front. It had out-of-state plates and a sinking feeling flooded Alice’s chest. Her family’s out-of-town guests were usually the kind that had been told to get out of town somewhere else, and therefore, ended up staying long after they’d worn out their welcome.

  Before she had the door completely open, Alice’s mother had jumped off the couch and rushed toward her. “Here she is!” she cried with excitement, but Alice couldn’t see around the door to the other person in the room.

  “You have a visitor!” Billy said as he finished opening the door for Alice.

  Alice’s guest sat in a thre
adbare armchair to the side of the sofa, but until he stood, Alice wasn’t entirely sure she wasn’t hallucinating.

  “Geoffrey?” she gasped.

  “Are you supposed to bow? Or curtsy? Or something?” her brother loud-whispered.

  “No need for that, Billy,” Geoffrey said as he walked the short distance to where Alice and her mother stood, giving Billy a reassuring pat on the back as he passed him. “That’s reserved for the queen. I’m not that important.”

  He spoke to her brother, but his eyes were on Alice.

  “What are you doing here? How did you even find me?”

  “It wasn’t easy. I had to bribe your neighbor for your forwarding address.” He glanced at Billy who still stood between them. He smiled wide at Geoffrey then finally got the hint and moved out of the way. Geoffrey took a tentative step toward Alice and finished what he’d been saying. “Then I discovered it wasn’t possible to Uber all the way here from Los Angeles, so I had to rent a car.”

  Alice stepped toward him but changed her mind when a glance toward her mom reminded her that they had an audience. She jerked her head toward the door. Once they were both outside and had shut the door behind them, Alice stood as close to him as she’d wanted to inside. “I’m impressed you were able to find this place. It’s not easy if you don’t know your way around here.”

  Geoffrey offered her his hand, palm up, and she took it. “I don’t want easy. I don’t care what kind of work it takes to make the Grey museum happen, I’m willing to do it. But what I really want to work is you and me, and I’ll do whatever it takes if you’ll give me another chance. I know I don’t deserve one, and I treated you horribly, but I listened to everything you said, and I’ve figured out—”

  Alice put her index finger over his lips. “Shut up and kiss me.”