“What’s it gonna be, Georgia? Because honest to God, we’re not having this conversation ever fuckin’ again.”
“I . . .” She swallows, looking over my shoulder and stating softly, “I like working here.”
“That’s good, because you’re an asset to this club,” I tell her truthfully. “Every employee respects you, you’re always here when you’re supposed to be, and besides Luke, you’re one of the few people I trust.” At my statement, her hopeful gaze comes back to me. “That being the case, I need to know you’ve heard what I’ve said.”
“I can be professional,” she agrees, and I lift my chin in approval before she lowers her eyes to the top of my desk.
“Is there anything else we need to discuss right now?”
“No.” She shakes her head as she gets up.
“All right. I’ve got some stuff to take care of here. Then I’ll come out to let you all know when I’m leaving to go check on the bars.”
“Okay.” She averts her eyes as she walks out of my office and closes the door.
“Fuck.” I pull my fingers through my hair, then grab my cell phone out of my pocket.
I dial Chrissie and listen as the phone rings. When her soft, sweet voice greets me with a sleepy “Hey,” my body relaxes. I talk to her for a good half hour while I go through my emails, and then I tell her I’ll see her in the morning when she starts to sound like she’s falling back to sleep.
After I get off the phone with her, I walk through the club, letting everyone who needs to know that I’m leaving. I spend the rest of the night between my two bars, and at the end of the night, I do drawer counts at all three of my businesses, then do a bank run. I make a deposit of all the cash that’s come in so I don’t have to keep it in the safe at the club. Exhausted after a long night, I head home, looking forward to the few hours I get to spend with my woman before she has to leave for work later in the morning.
An hour later, I use the key Chrissie gave me to let myself into her place, and LeFou greets me at the door, then follows me to her dark bedroom and into the bathroom. I strip out of my clothes, brush my teeth, and then shut off the light before I open the door so I don’t wake her, since she has a couple of hours before she actually has to get up. As soon as I slide under the blankets, she turns toward me, whispering, “Gus.”
I curl her into my side and whisper, “Go back to sleep, sweetheart,” and kiss the top of her head.
“I’m glad you’re home.” She presses her lips against my chest, and then her body relaxes into mine and her breath evens out, letting me know she’s already fallen back asleep.
I close my eyes and smooth my fingers down her arm, knowing I won’t be falling asleep anytime soon. Before her, I’d go to the gym or out on a run when I got home in order to work off any spare energy I had. But now, with her, I’m happy to just do this—hold her, feel her body against mine, and breathe in her scent until she finally wakes up. And I’m able to work out my energy in a much more satisfying way.
Suggestion 12
TELL YOUR MOM
CHRISSIE
With the Christmas tree lit just feet away and the sound of carols filling the house, I study my mom from my place at the island in her kitchen as she hums along to the music. If you asked me even a month ago how Christmas at my mom’s would look, this is not the scene I would have envisioned.
“I need to talk to you about New Year’s,” she tells me as she brings a bowl of boiled potatoes to the counter and then grabs a masher from the drawer.
“Are you coming to my place?” I ask, wondering if I should invite her to Gaston’s club to hang out with everyone before we all go back to my place to watch the fireworks and ring in the New Year. After I’ve told her about Gaston, of course—something I plan on doing today, especially after seeing how okay she seems to be.
“Sorry, honey, no; that’s what I need to tell you. I’m actually going on a cruise, and I won’t be home for New Year’s Eve.”
I blink, sure I heard her wrong. “Did you just say you’re going on a cruise?”
“Yes. I leave the day before New Year’s Eve, so I’ll still be able to see your brother and Sam, who both thought it was great I was doing something for myself.” She smiles, then adds, “I’m excited. The first stop is in Acapulco, and from what I’ve read online, the beaches there are beautiful.”
“You’re going on a cruise, and you told Chris before you told me?”
“Oh, stop.” She laughs, knowing my brother and I still argue to this day about who she loves most. “I wanted to make sure he wouldn’t be upset if I went, with him and Sam coming into town. And I’ve only had these plans a few days. I knew I’d tell you today.”
“Are you going alone?”
“Yes.” She smiles nervously. “The cruise caters to people who are traveling alone. They hold events and gatherings so you can meet new people, and if I don’t feel comfortable going to those events, there’s gambling, which is something I know I’ll enjoy.”
“Gambling?”
“There’s a casino on the boat.” Her face becomes animated. “I went to Vegas once when I was in my twenties, a little before I met your dad, and I had a great time. Plus, I was awesome at that red-ball, black-ball game.”
I don’t know what the red-ball, black-ball game is. I also don’t know who the woman is standing in front of me. My mom has always frowned at even the mention of a cruise and has never even talked about gambling before.
“Who are you, and what have you done with my mother?” I question, and she laughs like I’ve never heard her laugh before.
“I told you, honey. I’m going to find my happy,” she says, and I close my eyes briefly in relief. This is what I’ve wanted for her for months, and I feel overwhelmed with happiness that she’s finally, finally taking steps to move past my dad. And seeing her happy lets me know that I can share that I am too.
“I have something to tell you.”
“What?”
“I’m seeing someone. And, well . . . he’s amazing.”
“What?” she cries, her hands flying—including the one with the masher she’s using, causing a spray of potatoes to fly across the room and splatter against the cupboard. “Why haven’t you told me?”
I look away, trying to figure out how to tell her without making her feel bad.
“It’s my fault,” she says stiffly, and my throat gets tight when I hear the pain in her voice. “I . . . you didn’t want to tell me because you were scared of how I would react.”
“You weren’t in a good place. I wanted to tell you; I just didn’t know how to tell you. I’m sorry.” I shift uncomfortably on the stool.
“You have nothing to be sorry about. If I wasn’t acting like an idiot, you wouldn’t have felt the need to keep this a secret. I’m sorry for making you feel like you couldn’t trust me.”
“You don’t have anything to be sorry about either. I understood what you were going through. I’m just glad you’re dealing with things better now.” I reach across the space between us and clasp her hand.