“You really don’t know, do you?” Sympathy dripped from her tone.
“Georgia asked you to leave.” Noah’s voice rumbled against my back.
“Of course you want me to leave. Why the hell didn’t you tell her it was finished? What else could you possibly get by keeping it from her?” Mom tilted her head just like I had, and I hated it. Hated that I looked so much like her. Hated that I had anything in common with her.
I needed her to go. Now. Once and for all.
“Noah’s not done with the damned book!” I snapped. “He’s in here working on it all day, every day! I’m never selling the movie rights, and you can tell Damian to kiss my ass, because he’s never touching this story. Ever. Now you can leave on your own, or I can throw you out, but either way, you’re leaving.”
“You’re going to need me when you realize how naive you’ve been. Why would you lie to her like that?” She studied Noah like she’d found a worthy opponent.
That unnerved me like nothing else could have.
“I learned not to need you a long time ago, right around the time I realized that other mothers didn’t leave. That other mothers came to soccer games and helped their daughters get ready for dances. Other moms picked out costumes for Halloween and bought pints of ice cream for broken teenage hearts. I may have needed you at one point, but it passed.”
She jolted like I’d slapped her. “What would you know about motherhood? From what I’ve read, you lost your husband over that issue.”
“That’s uncalled for,” Noah moved, but I leaned back against him.
I shook my head with a small laugh. She had no idea. “Everything I know about motherhood, I learned from my mom. I didn’t get it until recently, but I do now. It’s okay that you didn’t know how to raise me. It really is. I don’t blame you for being a kid with a kid. You gave me a really great mom. One who came to the games, helped me pick out dresses for prom, listened to my hours of chatter without batting an eye, and never once made me feel like a burden, never wanted anything from me. You taught me that not all moms are called Mom. Mine was called Gran.” I sucked in a stuttered breath. “I’m okay with that.”
Mom stared at me like she’d never seen me before, then crossed her arms under her breasts. “Fine. If you don’t want to sell the movie rights…if you don’t have enough common sense to take the money, or enough compassion for me to do it, nothing I say will make a difference.”
“I’m glad we agree.” My body tensed, recognizing her preamble for exactly what it was, the moment before she went for the emotional kill.
“But I’d be remiss if I didn’t tell you that he’s finished the book. Both endings. If you don’t believe me, call Helen like I did. Call his editor. Hell, call the mailroom clerk. Everyone knows it’s done, just waiting for you to pick an ending.” She turned her attention to Noah. “You’re a piece of work, Noah Harrison. At least I only wanted money. Damian wanted access to Scarlett’s rights. What did you want?” She walked past us, pausing to pick up the bag I hadn’t noticed was already packed by the office door. “Oh, and you should send your editor a nice bottle of scotch, because that man is a guard dog. No one’s seen it but him.” She picked up her bag and walked out of the office.
The front door closed a few seconds later.
“Georgia.” Noah’s voice held an edge of something I hadn’t heard there before—desperation.
Mom had called Helen. Helen wouldn’t lie. She had no reason to, nothing to gain from it. Gravity shifted beneath my feet, but I managed to walk to the window before I faced Noah, putting nowhere near enough distance between us if it was true.
“Is it true?” I wrapped my arms around my waist and stared at the man I’d foolishly allowed myself to fall in love with.
“I can explain.” He put the shirt box on the desk and stepped forward once, but something in my eyes must have warned him off, because he didn’t move any closer.
“Did you finish writing the book?” My voice weakened.
The muscle in his jaw ticked once. Twice. “Yes.”
I heard it in the back of my mind—the gasp, the gurgle, the love that had consumed me less than an hour ago twisting, contorting into something ugly and poisonous.
“Georgia, this isn’t what you think.” His eyes begged me to listen, but I wasn’t done asking the questions.
“When?”
He muttered a curse, lacing his fingers on top of his head.
“When did you finish the book, Noah?” I snapped, grasping onto the anger to keep from drowning in the tide of agony rising in my soul.
“The beginning of December.”
My eyes flared. Six weeks. He’d been lying to me for six entire weeks. What else had he lied about? Did he have a girlfriend back in New York? Did he ever really love me? Or was it all a lie?
“I know this looks bad—”
“Get out.” There was no emotion in my words, no feeling left in my body.
“You had just told me that you wanted us to be a fling, and I was already in love with you. I couldn’t walk away. It was wrong, and I’m sorry. I just needed enough time—”
“To what? Screw with my emotions? Is that what gets you off?” I shook my head.
“No! I’m in love with you! I knew if we had enough time, you’d fall for me, too.” He dropped his arms.
“You love me.”
“You know I do.”
“You don’t lie and manipulate someone into loving you, Noah. That’s not how love works!”
“All I did was give us the time we needed.”
“What happened to I never break my word?” I tossed back.
“I haven’t! Is the draft done? Yes. But the book isn’t finished. I’ve been in here every day, editing both versions, giving us as much time as possible before you have to choose one of the endings. Before you cut us off at the knees because you’re scared.”
“You lied. Apparently my caution was warranted. Take your laptop and your lies and go. I’ll mail whatever else you left, just get away from me.” I’d made the mistake of holding on to Damian after that first lie, and he sucked eight years of my life away as a thank-you. Never again.
“Georgia—” He came toward me, reaching.
“Go!” The demand was a guttural plea that scraped my throat raw.
His hand fell away, and his eyes slid shut.
One heartbeat passed. Then two. By the time he opened his eyes, a full dozen had passed, just enough to let me know this moment wouldn’t kill me. That I’d keep breathing despite the pain.