by Marie Force
He left her with a kiss. “No peeking.”
She watched him go up the stairs, use his key in the door, and disappear inside. Lights went on and then off when dimmer lights replaced them. Then the light in his bedroom went on and off. In all, she figured three minutes had passed when the front door opened and he came out to get her.
“What’s going on?” she asked as she took his hand. “Where are we going?”
“Are you always this difficult about surprises?”
“Yes. I operate on a need-to-know-everything basis.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” He led her to the top of the brick stairs. “Stay here for a sec.” He brushed a hand over her eyes. “Keep them closed.”
“Hurry up!” she said, dancing from one foot to the other.
He went inside but was back less than a minute later. “Okay.” Taking her hands, he guided her in.
Georgie heard Petula Clark singing “Downtown.” Confused and painfully curious, she fought to keep her eyes closed.
With his hands on her face, he kissed her. “I know how much you’ve missed Atlanta, so I thought if I brought Atlanta to you, then maybe you wouldn’t be in such a rush to get back there. You can look now.”
Georgie opened her eyes slowly. At first she didn’t understand. There were white lights and an ivy-covered trellis over a table set for two. And then she saw the murals, one on each of the four walls, of the Atlanta skyline, the Olympic rings, CNN, Coca-Cola, and the aquarium. One wall was devoted to the Braves and Falcons.
Nathan put on a Braves hat and held another out to her.
Numb with shock and surprise and a growing sense of panic over what she hadn’t yet told him, she took it from him. “I . . . I’m . . .”
“Georgie Quinn is speechless. I never thought I’d see the day.”
She moved in for a closer look at the skyline. Running her hand over the paint, she asked, “Did you do this?”
“Kevin and Hugh did. They’re both artists. I have to give Kevin credit for the idea. Ben and I built the trellis because in every picture I saw of Buckhead, there was ivy.”
“I’m overwhelmed, Nathan. Truly.”
“I was hoping it would make you a little less homesick.”
“It does,” she said, her heart heavy with the knowledge that by this time tomorrow, she would be back in Atlanta.
The music shifted to Ray Charles singing “Georgia on My Mind.”
Nathan turned his hat around. “Dance with me, Georgie.”
When he brought her into his arms, Georgie couldn’t deny the fit was utter perfection. It would be so easy to decide right here, right in this moment he had orchestrated just for her, that no one would ever fit her better.
“This is my favorite version of this song,” she said.
“I’ve had Georgia on my mind from first time I ever saw you sitting on the porch when I ran by.”
Looking up at him, her heart in her throat, she said, “Thank you. No one has ever done anything like this for me.”
“I was only sorry that finishing it kept me from coming over last night.” He touched his lips to hers. “Hopefully, we can make up for it tonight.”
Georgie planted soft kisses along his jaw. “I take it there’s no kitchen guy coming on Monday?”
“You’re looking at him.”
“So you are capable of lying when it suits your purposes. Good to know.”
He chuckled. “I have dinner for us. Are you hungry?”
“Not for food.”
He studied her for a long, breathless moment before he leaned down to scoop her up and over his shoulder.
Georgie squealed with surprise as he carried her upstairs. “I didn’t get to look at all the murals!”
“They’re not going anywhere.”
No, but I am, and oh, God, I’m so confused!
As they landed on his bed, she realized she hadn’t been there since the first night they spent together.
“Don’t move,” he said as he got up to light candles on his bedside table. Standing by the side of the bed, he never took his eyes off her as he unbuttoned his shirt and let it fall to the floor.
As she watched him in the amber light, Georgie’s heart contracted.
He hovered over her, using his arms to prop himself up.
Georgie reached for him and let her fingers slide through his hair. Over his head, she noticed something on the ceiling and nudged him aside so she could see the huge poster of Martin Luther King Jr. On it Nathan had written, “I have a dream.” Laughter that began as a low gurgle soon escalated to hysterics. She wrapped her arms around him and brought him down to her as she continued to laugh.
His lips found her neck, her jaw, her ear. “Want to know my dream?”
Still recovering from the laughing fit, she nodded.
“I have a dream that one day Georgie Quinn will sleep next to me every night.”
“Nathan—”
Before she could say anything else, he kissed her as if his life depended on it.
Georgie hovered between sleep and wakefulness, aware of Nathan’s lips cruising over her fevered skin. She refused to open her eyes, to acknowledge the morning, to accept that today was the day she had waited and hoped for. Despair was her predominant emotion as he nudged her legs apart and sank into her yet again.
Her arms encircled his neck, her hips met his questing thrusts, and she had yet to open her eyes. As long as she kept them closed, she could believe it was still nighttime.
“Georgie,” he whispered, cupping her breast and laving her nipple. His hips moved at a desperate pace, almost as if he knew it could be the last time.
The climax was quick and powerful and draining all at the same time.
His body tensed, slowed, and then surged. With a gasp of release, he rested on top of her for a long moment before he rolled to his side and brought her with him.
She buried her face in the chest hair she had admired long before she’d known how much more there was to admire. Biting her lip hard against the rush of emotion, she steeled herself and opened her eyes to bright sunshine streaming into the room. “We need to talk.”
After she told him everything, she escaped to the bathroom, needing some distance from the emotional firestorm brewing between them.
He stormed into the bathroom behind her, his face set with anger and dismay. “When were you going to tell me? The second before you stepped on the plane?”
Georgie brushed her teeth and tried to find the words, hating that she had hurt and surprised him, especially after he had brought Atlanta to her, and especially after what they had shared throughout the long night.
Reaching out, he shut off the water.
She turned it on again.
He shut it off.
“Damn it!” Georgie said through the suds in her mouth. “Leave it alone! I like the water running when I brush my teeth.”
“It’s wasteful!”
“I don’t care!”
Staring at her like he had never seen her before, he shook his head. “You’ve made that painfully clear.”
She spit into the sink, rinsed off the toothpaste, and shut off the water. “Don’t turn water into a metaphor, Nathan. I do care about you. You know I do.”
“No, I don’t. I know you’ve enjoyed me. There’s a big difference.”
“Now you’re going to tell me how I feel?”
He hooked an arm around her waist and brought her up tight against his bare skin. “Stay. Stay with me.”
“I need some time to figure things out.”
“How much time?”
“I don’t know.”
“You could have everything you want right here, Georgie. You have your mother’s house, so turn it into a bed and breakfast. Start a consulting business. There’re hundreds of stores and shops right here in Newport that could benefit from your marketing expertise. My sister-in-law Linda has a jewelry store on Bowen’s Wharf. I asked her if she’d be interested, and she said she’d
snap up that kind of help in a heartbeat. She knows everyone in the business community. Word of mouth alone would get you started. Use the money your mother left you to build something of your own.”
Amazed at how much thought he had put into it, she stared at him. “You’ve got it all figured out, don’t you?”
“All I’m saying is you could have a meaningful career right here. Stay, Georgie. Be with me.” He dropped soft kisses on her face. “Stay with me.”
Remembering Gus’s advice to play it out in Atlanta so there would be no regrets later, she wiggled free of Nathan’s embrace. “I have people counting on me at work.”
“They fired you! Right after your mother died! What do you owe them?”
He was wearing her down and chipping away at her defenses.
Desperate to regain her equilibrium, she said, “I’d like to take a shower, please.”
His face sagging with defeat, he took two towels from the closet, handed them to her and walked out, slamming the door behind him.
Georgie washed her hair with shampoo that smelled like him. She heard the bathroom door open and then close again a minute later. The steam rose around her, engulfing her in a cloud of misery and confusion. She turned off the water before she could earn a lecture on the wastefulness of long showers.
Tugging aside the shower curtain, she bent in half to roll her hair into a towel and straightened to see that he had written, “I love you, Georgie Quinn” on the steam-covered mirror. “Oh,” she gasped. “Oh, you cannot do this to me! That’s not fair!” Somehow she managed to get the other towel wrapped around her before she yanked open the door to find him dressed and leaning against the wall in the hallway.
She stared at him.
He shrugged. “All’s fair . . .”
Shaking her head, she pushed past him, went into his room, and willed her trembling hands through the motions of getting dressed. Tugging her wet hair into a tight ponytail, she pushed her feet into her flip-flops and hung the towels on the closet door to dry. With a last glance at the bed where two of the most important nights of her life had taken place, she rushed past him down the stairs. For a moment, she stood in the room he had transformed into scenes from Atlanta, and wished with all her heart that she could chuck her life there as easily as he thought she could.
She heard him come down the stairs and turned to him. “I need to take care of some things—things that are important to me.”
“All right.”
“That doesn’t mean I never want to see you again. Far from it.”
“Okay.”
“Will you call me?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“If you want me, Georgie, you know where to find me. I’m not going to chase you anymore. I’m all done banging my head against a hard wall. It’s starting to hurt. And it’s starting to make me mad, which worries me.”
His words resonated through her like painful arrows, knowing the battle he’d fought against anger in the past. “It’s okay for you to get mad with me. God knows I’ve given you enough reason. It doesn’t scare me when you get loud or angry. You don’t scare me, Nathan.”
She could see that he was relieved to hear that. “I prefer happy over angry any day.”
“Thank you for this,” she said, gesturing to the skyline mural. “Tell your brothers, too. It was a lovely thing to do.”
“You’re welcome.” He stood with his hands in his pockets, the way he had that night in the street when he had brought her flowers to apologize for upsetting her, the way he had in the hospital when he’d come right from court to be with her after Gus’s surgery.
But this time the stance wasn’t welcoming. It was defensive. She had finally succeeded in pushing him away. At the door, she let her hand rest on the doorknob. Keeping her back to him, she said, “I enjoyed every minute I spent with you, Nathan, and despite what you think, I do care about you. More than you’ll ever know. I’m just not ready for all the things you want from me.”
Without giving him the chance to reply, she went out the door and down the stairs.
Cat lasted a month. Thirty long, draining days spent running from the simple fact that she was in love with Ian—desperately and completely in love. Over and over, his parting line ran through her mind, torturing her with its exquisite truth. Did it ever occur to you that you might have a lot in common with a little girl whose mother abandoned her?
Standing at the bathroom sink, she stared at her reflection in the mirror. She’d gone to a lot of trouble to cultivate a reputation as a badass. It had served her well as the manager of one of the hottest clubs in town, but as she reached up to remove the ring from her brow, she knew her badass reputation had no place in the life of a soon-to-be four-year-old girl.
Wetting her hair, she combed it out until the spikes collapsed into soft waves around her face. In her room, she bypassed her trademark tank top for a black T-shirt that covered the mermaid tattoo. Buttoning the only pair of jeans she owned that didn’t hug her hips, she checked herself in the full-length mirror one last time, grabbed her purse and keys, and went downstairs before she could lose her nerve.
As she parked in front of the big yellow house, it occurred to her that she had no idea what their schedule was like during the day. What if they weren’t home? Would she ever again work up the courage to do this?
Probably not.
Tucking her purse under the seat, she took only her keys with her when she got out of the Jeep and started down the long driveway. Behind Kevin’s house, Ian pushed Rosie on the swing. Relief coursed through Cat at the sight of them, making her want to laugh and cry at the same time. When he saw her watching them, shock and surprise registered on his face.
Rosie’s lips curled with distaste. “What does she want?”
“Actually,” Cat said, crossing the yard to them, “I came to see you.”
“Why? You don’t like me.”
“That’s not true. I don’t know you well enough not to like you. So I was thinking, maybe we could take a walk to the park and get to know each other. After that, maybe I won’t like you, but at least I’ll have given you a chance. What do you say?”
Rosie glanced up at her father and then back at Cat. “You’re teasing me, aren’t you?”
Smiling, Cat said, “Why don’t you come with me and find out?”
“Can I, Daddy?”
“Only if you want to.”
Rosie studied her for a long, long moment, during which Cat tried to decide what she would do if the child said no. In planning for this mission, she hadn’t considered that possibility.
“Okay.” Rosie jumped off the swing and took Cat’s outstretched hand. “We’ll be back in a little while, Dad.”
“Take your time,” he said softly.
Cat didn’t dare look at him as she led his daughter to the driveway. One thing at a time.
They walked to Morton Park in silence until Rosie looked up at her. “Why is your name Cat? That’s kind of a weird name.”
Cat laughed at her bluntness—a woman after her own heart. “It’s short for Catherine.”
“That’s an old lady name.”
“Why do you think I go by Cat?”
“My real name is Roseanne, which was my daddy’s grandmother’s name, so I guess that’s an old lady name, too.”
“It’s a beautiful name.”
“Do you love my daddy?”
Resisting the urge to suck in a sharp deep breath of surprise, Cat glanced down to find Rosie’s cherubic face turned up, watching her intently. “I do. I love him a lot.”
“That’s good, because he’s been really sad since you broke up with him.”
“Has he?” Cat’s heart thumped with excitement and hope. For the first time in a month, she had reason to hope.
“Uh-huh. Really sad.”
Cat cleared the emotion from her throat. “What’s your favorite thing to do at the park?”
“Swing.”
“Then swi
ng it is.” Facing the child, Cat lifted her onto the swing, but before she gave her a push, she clutched the chain with both hands. “I love your dad very much, and I want to be with him more than anything, but I’m afraid I’d make a lousy mom to you, Rosie. How do you feel about that?”
“My real mom was kinda lousy. She didn’t want me.”
Cat gasped. “That’s not true! Of course she did.”
“No, she didn’t. My daddy made her have me.”
“Rosie . . .”
“It’s okay. I don’t care. Why would I want a mom who doesn’t want me?”
Cat wondered how she ever could have thought this child wasn’t worth her time.
“Could we maybe make a deal? If I’m lousy, will you tell me? Will you come right out and say, ‘That was lousy, Cat’? Whatever I did, I’ll never do it again.”
“Okay.”
“You promise?”
“I promise,” Rosie said solemnly.
“Do you know what I could really use right now?”
“Nope.”
“A hug. Would it be okay, if, you know . . .”
Rosie held out her arms.
Cat scooped her up and clung to her. “I’m so sorry you thought I didn’t like you.” The sweet smell of baby shampoo and little girl filled her senses and her heart. “You deserve so much better than that.”
Pulling back, Rosie placed her pudgy hands on Cat’s face. “My very favoritest thing to do at the park is play cloud art, but Daddy hates it because he never sees anything.”
“Oh, I love that game! I used to play with my brother and sister all the time.”
Rosie looked up at the puffy clouds. “Want to play?”
“I’d love to.” Cat carried Rosie to the grassy field where they stretched out next to each other and gazed up at the sky. They studied the clouds for several quiet minutes before Cat pointed to one.
“Elephant!” Rosie cried.
They exchanged a high five.
“Daddy would say—”
“There’s no elephant up there.” Ian’s shadow covered them both. “I don’t care what you guys say.”
Rosie rolled her eyes at Cat. “See what I mean?”
“We’ll have to work on him.”
