“Oh, don’t be a baby. I’ll leave the door open.”
She did, and he sat on the old upholstered window seat, and she sat across from him on a rickety old chair. It was only after they’d taken their seats that he realized their positions mimicked those of a therapist and patient. Appropriate enough.
“You’re not bringing Hops back,” she said. “I refuse.”
He looked away, ran a hand through his hair. “I can’t take care of him anymore, Maisie. I had to quit the brewery. I found out…I found out Beau was going to leave it to me. He changed his mind, but he left a crazy clause in his will. If the brewery doesn’t place in the top five at Brewfest, it goes to me anyway. Georgie knew. We…we decided to give it a try. Being together, working together.” His voice took on a ragged edge he didn’t much like. “But she’s known for weeks, and she didn’t tell me.”
“I know,” she said, not that he was surprised. “You’ll be annoyed to hear that Finn called an emergency breakfast session with me and Dottie this morning.”
He let out an exhale that was somewhere between a sound of annoyance and a laugh. “Sounds more like something Aunt Dottie would do.”
“What can I say? I guess she’s rubbed off on all of us.” She held his gaze, something intense in her eyes. “River, Dottie’s pretty upset. Finn too. Neither of them think Georgie was playing you. In fact…” She cleared her throat. “Dottie says she’s positive Georgie’s in love with you.”
Something warm unfurled in him, but he shut it down quickly. “I didn’t think she was playing me…she’s not like that. It’s just…she didn’t trust me. I told her that I didn’t want us to start anything unless she was sure, and she still didn’t tell me.”
“Which is shitty,” Maisie said softly. “No one’s saying otherwise. But don’t you think she was maybe worried you’d react just like you’re reacting?” She paused, tilting her head a little, and then said words that drove a knife into him. “Do you think you’re the only one who’s afraid of being left?”
A feeling akin to horror passed over him. Was that how Georgie felt? Like he’d left her? Like he’d decided she wasn’t good enough? He thought again of those postcards. He’d looked at them after the drive back from Savannah, comparing them to one of his aunt’s grocery lists, and sure enough, they’d been in her writing.
“Why are you so sure that’s why she didn’t tell me?” he said through numb lips. “They needed me to help make the brewery competitive. Jack thought I would tank them if I knew about the will.”
“Yeah, Jack thought that,” she said. “But who the hell is Jack? You don’t know him, and from what Dottie said, Georgie doesn’t really know him either. Why should his opinion matter that much to you?” She looked away for a moment before meeting his eyes again. “Do you honestly think Georgie distrusted you?”
And that was the real question, wasn’t it?
“No,” he finally said. “No, I don’t. But this hurts like hell, and I hate that Beau put us into this mess. I…it makes me feel like I didn’t know him at all.”
She rose from her chair then, and came to sit beside him. “You knew him, River,” she said softly. “But he wasn’t a perfect man. He also wasn’t a psychic man. I don’t think he had the first idea you’d end up leaving Big Catch. If he’d thought you would end up taking a job at Buchanan, he never would have arranged things that way.”
She was right. Everything she’d said was right. And it penetrated the wall of hurt that had built up inside of him. Something long pent up let loose, and he felt tears course down his cheeks for the first time since Beau had died.
“I messed everything up, Maisie. I’m not sure how to make it right. I wonder if I even can.”
She took him in her arms and held him, just held him, for a moment, letting him cry. Then she pulled back and wiped his tears.
“You can, and you will. Do you love Georgie?”
The answer was so easy, it made him feel even more foolish for treating her the way he had. For walking away like she meant nothing to him.
“I do.”
She nodded, as if that was what she’d expected, but she looked almost sad about it.
“Then you’re going to get your girl back. And your job, obviously.”
“It’s not that simple.”
“Oh?”
He told her about the contract he’d signed—the noncompete and the new fraternization clause—and she scowled as if she’d eaten a lemon.
“Her brothers sound like controlling douchebags,” she said, “especially the one who knew about the will. You should have taken Georgie’s advice and had Finn look at it. He never would have let you sign that.”
He sighed. “I know.”
“And you also know what you have to do, right?” She took a dramatic pause. “Give that controlling douchebag a call.”
“Ugh,” he said, feeling his head ache again through the pain reliever he’d taken. “I hate that you’re right about that too.”
She grinned and pointed to herself. “You can’t go wrong if you stick with this controlling douchebag.”
“Har-de-har-har.” He motioned to the space around them. “Why here, Maisie? Why not at your office or my apartment?”
An almost wistful look passed over her face. “It just seemed right,” she said. “It was always a safe place for us, wasn’t it? I hoped it would be one for you now.”
He hugged her again, holding on tight, bolstering himself for what was to come, and as soon as she pulled away, she said, “And no matter what happens, that’s an absolute no about Hops. In fact, I already filled out the adoption paperwork for you.”
“You are a controlling douchebag,” he teased, stepping back as she fake-swatted him. “Are you coming tonight?”
“No,” she said simply. “I don’t think so. But you’re going to tell me everything.”
Back in his car, he checked the rest of his texts. Finn was worried and apologetic. Apparently Georgie’s reaction had convinced him that she hadn’t deviously plotted the whole thing, but he still thought it was a bad idea for River to get involved with his boss. He couldn’t help but smile a little at that—even Finn’s apology texts were paragraphs.
Noted, he responded. After all of this is over, let’s get a beer or make one.
Aunt Dottie’s messages were frantic enough that he thought it best to call her.
She answered on the first ring, and he could hear the Buchanan tasting room in the background. He felt an odd pang at that.
“River, where are you?” Aunt Dottie said, and the guilt he’d felt toward Georgie doubled. Tripled. She’d worried he would leave. That he would just drive off the way her niece always had.
“I’m okay,” he said. “I’m at Maisie’s. She just talked some sense into me.”
A relieved gust of air made him pull the phone away from his ear. “Oh, thank heavens. Are you coming over to talk to Georgie? She’s had the door of her office shut all day, but I heard her crying in there, poor dear.”