“I try to live most of my life like my mother will always find out what I’ve done.” Corner of my mouth tugged upward. “In reality, she usually does anyway, and the lectures last for hours. Hours. And as for the other parts…well, she never needs to know.” My brow puckered as the overwhelming silence of the house hit me. “Where is your mother? Usually she’s the one making sure you’re hydrated.”
She scoffed. “She was making sure you were hydrated. She’s well aware that I can fend for myself.” She laced her fingers in front of her, and her knuckles turned white. “Besides, she’s probably halfway to the airport by now.”
My stomach sank. Given the tone with which she’d said that, my bets were on Ava being the reason Georgia looked shell-shocked. “Was it a planned trip?”
Georgia laughed, but there was nothing happy about the sound. “Yeah, I’d say it was planned well in advance.”
Before I could question her, the teakettle whistled. I removed it from the burner, only to realize I hadn’t looked for a cup.
“Cabinet to the left, second shelf,” Georgia said.
“Thanks.” I grabbed a mug, then set the tea to steep.
“I should be the one thanking you.”
I arched a brow. “Fluid roles, remember?”
She offered me a smile. It was barely there, lasting only a flash of a second, but it was genuine.
“Do you take it with milk, too?” I asked as I slid the mug and honey across the island to her.
“God no.” She tilted the honey bear on its head and squeezed a dollop of the amber liquid into her tea. “Gran would tell you that’s sacrilege.”
“Would she?” I asked, hoping she would elaborate.
Georgia nodded and slid off her stool, coming around the island to open the drawer directly behind me. “She would.” She took the spoon from the drawer and returned to her seat before stirring her tea. “She actually preferred sugar, though. The honey was always just for me. It didn’t matter how long I’d been away; she always kept it for me, kept a place for me.” A wistful look crossed her face.
“You must miss her.”
“Every day. Do you miss your dad?”
“Absolutely. It’s gotten better with time, but I’d give anything to have him back.” Come to think of it, I’d only ever heard about the Stanton women. “What about your dad?”
“I don’t have one.” She said it so matter-of-factly that I blinked. “I have one, or had one, of course. I’m not the product of immaculate conception or anything,” she said as she took her spoon to the dishwasher and put it in. “I’ve just never met him. He and my mom were both in high school when I was born, and she never gave up his name.”
Another piece of the puzzle that was Georgia Stanton clicked into place. She never knew her father. Scarlett raised her. So what did that make Ava?
“Are you sure you don’t want anything to drink?” she asked. “It feels a little weird not getting you something when you made tea for me.” She looked at me expectantly.
“Not everything is quid pro quo,” I said softly.
Her spine straightened, and she turned her back on me, heading for the refrigerator. “In my experience, it’s always quid pro quo.” She took a bottle of water from the refrigerator, then shut the door. “In fact, there are very few people who don’t want something from me.” She set the bottle of water down on the counter in front of me and returned to her seat. “So please, drink up. After all, you didn’t fly all the way to Colorado because your Spidey senses told you I needed a cup of tea.”
You want something, too.
Her eyes said it even if her mouth didn’t, and damn it, she was right. My stomach fell into what felt like a bottomless pit.
I nodded once, and then we both drank.
“Why are you here? Not that I’m not thankful for the tea, or the distraction, because I am. I just wasn’t expecting you.” She leaned forward, warming her hands on the mug.
“I promised I wouldn’t talk about the book.” Book or not, I was glad to be here, glad to see her in a way that had zero to do with anything professional. The woman had been on my mind in one way or another for the past month.
“You always keep your promises?” Her eyes narrowed in speculation.
“I do. Otherwise, I wouldn’t make the promise.” It had been an expensive lesson.
“Even to the women in your life?” She tilted her head. “I’ve seen quite a few pictures.”
“Checking up on me?” Please say yes. God knew my browser history was full of Georgia Stanton.
“My best friend keeps sending me pictures and articles. She thinks I should jump you.” She shrugged.
She what? I squeezed my water bottle so hard, I crushed it. “Really?” My voice dropped, pushing every single image that sentence brought to mind far out of my head, or at least trying to.
“Funny, right? Especially given the parade of women you keep your promises to.” She gave me a sugar-sweet smile and batted her lashes.
I laughed, then shook my head. “Georgia, the only promises I make to women are what time I’ll pick them up and what they can expect while they’re with me. Days. Nights. Weeks. I find it saves a lot of misunderstandings and a lot of drama if everyone knows what they’re getting up front, and despite your thoughts on my writing, I’ve never had an unsatisfied complaint.” I twisted the top back onto my empty water bottle, keeping my thoughts far away from the things I wanted to promise her.
“So romantic.” She rolled her eyes, but color flushed her cheeks.
“I never claimed to be, remember?” I smirked, leaning back against the counter.
“Ah yes, the bookstore. Noted. So you’ve never broken a promise?” Her voice pitched in disbelief.
My face fell.
“Not since I was sixteen and I forgot to take my little sister, Adrienne, for ice cream after I said I would.” I winced, remembering the sound of the beeping hospital monitors. “My mom took her and got into the accident I told you about.”
Georgia’s eyes widened.
“Adrienne—my sister—was fine, but Mom…well, there were a lot of surgeries. After that, I made it a point to never commit myself unless I was sure I could follow through.” I’d also drafted my very first book the following summer.
“You’ve never missed a deadline?”
“Nope.” Though that might change if she didn’t start communicating with me about this particular book.