He doesn’t return my smile.
“Look, you don’t have to worry about my intentions. All I want to do is to love and protect Georgina, for as long as she’ll have me. You asked Georgina to swear on her mother. Well, for me, my most sacred promise is on my nephew. I swear on him, Mr. Ricci, that I love Georgina and my intentions are honorable.”
Mr. Ricci remains quiet for a moment, until, finally, he smiles and says, “Marco. Call me Marco.”
My heart leaps. “Thank you. But if it’s okay with you, I’d prefer to call you ‘Dad.’”
Marco can’t help himself. He chuckles. So, I chuckle, too. And, just like that, we’re both laughing, and all tension between us is gone.
“Do you have any questions of me, Marco? Ask me anything. I’m an open book.”
Marco shakes his head. “Nothing else. Just don’t hurt my daughter.”
“I won’t.”
He rises from the table. “Why don’t you get our little force of nature from her bedroom, while I put some candles on her birthday cake and open a bottle of champagne? It sounds like we’ve got a lot to celebrate.”
Chapter 26
Reed
I knock on the door to Georgina’s bedroom, and say her name, but when she doesn’t reply, I poke my head inside the room. She’s lying on her bed, earbuds in, her eyes trained on an e-reader.
“Georgina?”
Nothing.
I cross the small room, detecting the faintest sound of 22 Goats blasting from Georgina’s ears. When I reach the edge of the bed, I stand over her for a beat, waiting for her to look up, but she’s too engrossed in whatever she’s reading to notice me. Out of curiosity, I peek at the book title in the upper corner of the page she’s reading and discover it’s a biography of a New York City mobster. The sight makes me smile broadly. How is it possible for someone so gorgeous to also be so damned smart, adorable, and curious?
I could stand here all night, watching Georgina’s various facial expressions as she reads. But since her father is waiting on us, I gently tap the top of her head to announce myself.
At my touch, Georgina jolts, tosses down her e-reader, and pulls out her earbuds.
“What’d he say?” she gasps out, her cheeks flushed with anticipation.
“Remember what Tony said a good Italian father would say to a ‘suave’ dude like me? That’s basically what he said.”
Georgina winces. “Was it super weird and cringey for you?”
“Not at all. It was awesome, actually. The conversation ended well. And it helped me further clarify my thoughts and feelings about you. About us.”
Her eyebrows ride up. “What does that mean?”
I sit on the edge of the bed. “Your father told me all these grand gestures I’ve been doing for you, and him, would imply I’m promising ‘forever’ to you. And I said, good. That’s precisely my intention.”
Georgina makes that wide-mouthed, astonished face I love so much. “You actually used the word ‘forever’ when talking to my father—about me?”
I nod. “And I meant it.” I take her hands. “If I haven’t made this clear to you, Georgina, let me do it now. I’m not going anywhere. You’re my last stop on the train.”
Her chest heaves. “You’re mine, too.”
“Glad to hear it. But, listen, love. There’s something else your dad said... something we should talk about.”
I’d noticed Georgina reading everything Henn sent to me about Gates during our flight home from New York, and it was clear to me the information was deeply distressing to her. But she said she didn’t want to talk about it yet, so I didn’t press. Instead, I simply put my arm around my baby and invited her to sleep on my shoulder for the rest of the flight.
But now, after hearing that thing Marco said to me a moment ago—that thing about Georgina supposedly melting down for a solid week in high school, due solely to some dumb boy—my gut tells me it’s time for her to speak up about Gates. At least, with her father.
“While your father was warning me not to break your heart,” I say, “he told me a cautionary tale about some unknown boy in high school who broke your heart so badly you crawled into bed and cried for a week.”
Georgina scowls. “Ugh. My dad made a similar comment the other day. You realize he’s talking about the week after Gates attacked me, right?”
“Yeah, that’s my point. I understand why you didn’t tell your father about Gates at the time. And I’m not trying to push you to do something you’re not ready to do. But do you really want your father thinking his daughter spent a week in bed because some stupid high school boy dumped her? No wonder he thinks you’re more fragile and naïve than you are. He has no way of knowing what a badass you are, Georgina. A grown man attacked you, at seventeen—a man in a position of power—and you fought him off. Don’t you want your father to know that’s the badass daughter he raised, all on his own?”
“But if I tell my father what Gates did, he’ll want me to go to the police. And what good would that do? Like I said before, it’s my word against his—only now, a full five years later.”
I hold her anxious gaze. “Here’s what I think, love. Go out there and tell your dad what happened, simply because he loves you and doesn’t fully understand you as an adult. From there, I admit, I don’t have the expertise to guide you. But you know who does? Leonard. Let’s set up a meeting. We’ll show him everything Henn found and ask his recommendation on next steps. Should you file a police report? A civil complaint? I have no idea. But I trust Leonard. I know he’ll be able to help us figure out what to do next.”
Tears moisten Georgina’s eyes. “Thank you. Yes. I’d love to talk to Leonard. I trust him, too.” Her face contorts, like she’s holding back the weight of the world. But only barely.
“Aw, baby. Come here.” I hug her to me, and, when I hear sniffling, my heart physically palpitates with love for her.
“Thank you,” she ekes out.
“You don’t have to thank me. Don’t you get it? I love you. Your pain is mine. Your happiness mine.” I pull back and meet her teary eyes. “The only thing I want is for my beautiful, colorful butterfly to be set free, and to get to see her flying loop-de-loops against a brilliant blue sky, the way she was meant to do.”
“Loop-de-loops?” She chuckles through tears. “Whatever happened to you wanting to capture your beautiful butterfly and pin her to paper and enclose her in an airtight frame?”
I brush the tear streaking down her cheek with my thumb. “Well, I guess that right there is the difference between lust... and love.”
Chapter 27
Reed
Music is blaring. Bright lights flashing. And I’m a little bit drunk. Not because I’m having fun at this stupid birthday party at my Las Vegas nightclub. But because I’m not. Because after the past six weeks of bliss with Georgina, I can’t stand being away from her. Because I’d rather be shitfaced than have to stand here, completely sober, wishing I were home with my baby. Because, as this five-day business trip has taught me, I’m now hopelessly incapable of being away from Georgina for even one night—let alone, five.