Say Something: Second Chances, Book 6 Read online

  “I’ve always been big, George. Just another one of the reasons why it should have been obvious we weren’t meant to be.”

  “Another reason? Were there others?”

  Her somewhat alert question took him by surprise. He hadn’t expected her to respond. He tried to catch a glimpse of her face, but all he could see was the top of her head as she lay still against his chest.

  He sighed. “There were plenty of others.” God knew he’d spent enough time trying to figure out why she’d left.

  Georgie didn’t reply or ask what they were. Her breathing was softer and he suspected she was falling asleep. That knowledge encouraged him to keep talking. To say the things he’d spent one very long, painful year thinking about. He had compiled quite a list of reasons why she’d run and why he should have seen it coming.

  “We were friends for years, but things seemed to change once we started dating. Things I didn’t notice until you were gone. I mean you stopped telling me about your day.” He realized that sounded like a dumb reason, but in the nights after she had left, he’d lain awake trying to figure out if there had been signs. And surprisingly he’d found lots of them.

  “And you never left a toothbrush at my place or even a change of underwear.” When he’d gone home after the failed wedding, he had anticipated having to pack up her stuff. He hadn’t found anything. Not one damn thing. That fact had crashed in on him like a ton of bricks.

  “You never missed me when I was out of town.” It wasn’t unusual for him to travel with his job. As a divorce lawyer, he frequently needed to gather information regarding his client’s soon-to-be ex and that would take him away for a day or two here and there. He’d attended a weeklong conference while he was dating Georgie and when he got back, it felt to him as if she hadn’t even realized he was gone.

  Georgie’s breathing was deep now. She’d clearly fallen asleep. Nick knew he should get up and leave, but it felt good to get some of this off his chest. Even if she didn’t hear him.

  “And you never let me take care of you. You were always determined to be so independent. You never asked me for help with anything. Nothing.”

  Nick spent every single day of his life surrounded by couples in crumbling marriages. He knew better than to ignore signals like the ones that had been flashing brighter than a neon sign outside a strip club in his relationship with Georgie.

  He continued to lie there, listening to her soft breathing, unable to make himself leave. Georgie had broken his heart, hurt him worse than anyone in his life. And even now, despite all of it, he couldn’t find it in himself to hate her or remain angry. Anger took energy and he was running low on steam these days.

  “Nick,” she whispered.

  He jerked, surprised she was still awake. “Yeah?”

  “I did miss you.”

  He lifted his head from her pillow and glanced down. She kept her face lowered. He was annoyed to know she’d heard everything. And the tone in her voice made him think she wasn’t as drunk as she’d let on.

  His temper flared. He reached for her, cupping her jaw and forcing her head up until he could see her face. Her gaze found his. And it was suddenly too clear.

  “Still feeling sick?” The anger in his tone was thick, but he didn’t bother to hold it back.

  “Actually yeah. My head is woozy and my stomach is sort of squiggly.”

  Typical Georgie descriptions. Back in the day, he’d thought her funny expressions were amusing. “I’m leaving.”

  He started to rise, but she tightened her grip.

  “Wait. Please. Don’t go.”

  Nick was perfectly capable of shaking her off and walking out, but he wanted an answer. “What kind of game are you playing?”

  “None. I swear.”

  He sat up slowly. Georgie followed suit. Her movements had his eyes drifting south despite his better judgment. Why did her breasts have to be so fucking perfect?

  “How drunk are you?”

  She shrugged ruefully. “Somewhere between tipsy and wasted.”

  “Closer to tipsy?”

  She nodded. “Yeah. Buzz is sort of wearing off.”

  His eyes narrowed. “So you lay there pretending you were asleep and let me say all of that.”

  “Don’t be mad at me.”

  Nick threw up his hands. “Jesus, George. I don’t know how else to feel with you anymore. Everything you do drives me fucking crazy.”

  “I know. Tonight was the first time in a year you didn’t walk away from me after a chilly hello. It was nice. I guess I just wanted to find a way to keep it going.”

  “Yeah, well, I’m glad you enjoyed yourself.” He rose from the bed, wishing that action weren’t so hard. It should be the simplest thing in the world to leave this room without a backward glance. The woman ripped his heart out. Was he really that much of a glutton for punishment?

  “We used to be friends, Nick. Before it all went to hell, you were my best friend. I know that I hurt you. I can’t even begin to—”

  “Don’t.” For a year, he’d wanted nothing more than to hear her grovel, to beg for forgiveness. Just so he could laugh in her face and walk away. Tonight, he was struggling to hold on to the anger. Probably because too much of his blood was heating a different part of his body. His cock was so hard, it hurt.

  “For God’s sake, George. Grab a blanket or put on some damn clothes!”

  She didn’t move to do either. “There’s nothing here you haven’t seen a million times before.”

  The woman was a nuisance. Her words should have reminded him of that, but all they did was trigger memories—the good ones he’d worked so hard to forget—of better times between them.

  Like the fact Georgie was a prime candidate for a nudist colony. She was more comfortable out of her clothes than in them.

  When they were just friends, back before they’d become lovers, he’d spent too many nights semi-hard because she’d insist on watching movies at her house, dressed in just a skimpy T-shirt and panties.

  Then they’d started sleeping together and the nudity stopped being an issue. Hell, he’d even picked up the habit after a few weeks of dating—the two of them in a constant state of naked bliss.

  He tried to shake all the bare skin from his head. This was why he had avoided Georgie for so long. She messed him up. He was a rock-solid, responsible, normal guy. He had his shit together. People came to him for solutions, help, advice. You name it—he was the man with the answers and he got the job done.

  Until he got around Georgie. Then he was a fucking moron.

  Before he could pull himself together, he lost it, yelling louder than he intended. “You left me at the altar, George. You. Left. Me.”

  She bit her lower lip and for a second, he thought she might cry.

  “Oh no.” He shook his head. “No tears. You’re not allowed to cry.”

  Mercifully, pride was a trait they both had in common and possessed in spades. Georgie’s spine stiffened—which pushed her perky breasts out farther—and any tears she might have shed evaporated.

  “I’m not crying, Nick.” He almost laughed at the false bravado in her voice. It was just so her. “And I know what I did. I know exactly how horrible it was. It was just—”

  He shook his head and raised a hand to cut her off. “No. Not a word. Not one word! I don’t want to hear it.” He refused to go back there, to listen to her excuses. As far as he was concerned, none of it mattered anymore. He’d moved on.

  Yeah right.

  That was obvious considering he was still standing here, fighting to catch his breath, to calm his racing heart.

  Silence fell between them.

  “Okay,” she said at last.

  “I’m going.”

  She nodded. There was sadness in her pretty dark eyes. But there was also understanding. She’d always gott
en him. Seemed to know him better than he knew himself. “Okay,” she repeated.

  He turned, making it to the doorway of her room before she called out.

  “Hey, Nick.”

  He glanced over his shoulder. “Yeah?”

  “Thanks for the ride home. And for taking care of me.”

  He shrugged. “Sure. Night, George.”

  Nick walked down the stairs, each step away from her only making one thing clearer. He and Georgie Russell had unfinished business.

  This wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.

  Chapter Two

  February’s flower is the violet. Hidden messages of the violet include “I’ll always be true” and “let’s take a chance”.

  “I feel the need for some background information.” Kristen was looking straight at her. Georgie resisted the urge to groan. “I’m very curious about all these ex-fiancés, Georgie.”

  It had been a fairly somber Thursday wine night. Georgie knew Kristen was relying on her to turn it around. Zoey had told them about her diagnosis—breast cancer—and they’d discussed what happened next. Chemo.

  Georgie’s stomach hurt with fear and anger for her friend. Zoey was only a few years older than her. Thirty-five was too young for cancer. Hell, eighty-five was too fucking young. The whole disease sucked.

  Georgie fought to shake off her sadness and dug deep for something lighthearted to cheer them all up. “You know Nick.”

  Kristen nodded. “He’s the only one I know. Tell us about the other two.”

  Georgie topped up her wineglass before leaning back in her chair. All eyes were on her. She considered changing the subject—just not feeling it tonight—but she caught sight of Zoey’s tired, troubled eyes and changed her mind. Her friend needed some distraction and there was nothing Georgie liked more than telling a story.

  “Fine. Fiancé number one was Fist Bump Phil.”

  Laura choked on her wine as she laughed. “Fist Bump?”

  Georgie rolled her eyes. “My nickname for him. He liked to bump fists all the time. And I mean all the time. After every touchdown, homerun or basket scored by his team during sports, as a way of saying hello and goodbye, after sex. It was very annoying.”

  Josie snorted. “After sex? I love it. I may have to try that after my full-moon adventures.”

  “Dirty bitch,” Georgie teased. “I love that your resolution is to be a total slut, by the way.”

  Josie’s grin grew. “Always wanted to be a filthy whore. Has such a nice ring to it.”

  Shelly blushed at their conversation. “You two are so silly. What I can’t understand, Georgie, is how you ended up with a guy like that. He doesn’t sound very much like your type.”

  Kristen glanced at Shelly, one eyebrow raised. “You think Georgie has a type? Dear God, I shudder to consider what the man who fits with her would be like.”

  Georgie loved the teasing banter between them. They’d found each other late last spring, when they’d all come out into the common area behind their townhouses to enjoy some afternoon sunshine. Conversations were struck, wine appeared and by the end of the evening, they’d made plans to reconvene for a happy hour the following Thursday.

  That Thursday night had stretched into a weekly occasion, the six of them gathering with wine and snacks. And Georgie seriously couldn’t believe they hadn’t been friends forever.

  “He’d be well hung,” Georgie answered sardonically. The response worked as everyone hooted with laughter, even Zoey. Georgie was thrilled to see her friend relaxing and enjoying herself.

  “So how long did you date Fist Bump?” Laura asked.

  Georgie did some mental calculations. “Hmmm…eight, nine months? We had a blind date on Valentine’s Day. His cousin, Marla, used to do some part-time delivery work for me at the flower shop.”

  “Romantic first date,” Shelly chimed in. Georgie smiled at her shy friend.

  “Actually it wasn’t bad, which is why I kept seeing him. He’s an insurance salesman, smooth-talker. It was a whirlwind romance that ended up with him proposing to me one night on the Fourth of July.”

  “Wow. Fast mover,” Laura said.

  Georgie agreed. “Yeah. I was tipsy on margaritas at a picnic, we were having a lot of fun, and the ring was pretty sweet. I thought it would be a long engagement.”

  Josie shook her head. “Impulsive much?”

  Georgie laughed. “Very much. You know this about me.”

  “You said you thought it would be a long engagement. I take it Fist Bump didn’t feel the same way.” Kristen picked up the bottle of wine to fill her glass, then grimaced when she found it empty. They were consuming serious amounts of vino tonight.

  “Football season started.”

  Zoey frowned. “Why do you say that like it was the coming of Armageddon?”

  “I didn’t realize how deeply Phillip’s love of the sport ran. Apparently he played the part of a jock in high school. He was one of the big guys who stood in front of the thrower guy and plowed through a bunch of people on the other team.”

  Josie laughed loudly. “You’re a big fan of the sport yourself, I see. You realize it’s not a play, right?”

  Georgie smirked. “It’s barbaric and violent. I was raised by hippies, homeschooled, you know that too. My family never watched football. Ever.”

  Laura, who’d risen to get another bottle of wine from the kitchen, reached out and patted her shoulder. “My ex-husband was a football fan. Sundays in the fall always felt eternal to me as he planted himself in front of the big screen, cursing the refs and bad calls and too many commercial breaks. I can see where that could cause some problems, especially if Phillip loved it as much as you say.”

  “Love seems too mild. Phillip was one of those guys whose glory days had definitely come and gone in high school and he seemed to have trouble letting it go. Of course it didn’t help that he had an amazing voice—like seriously sexy. That was what attracted me to him. I swear to God that guy could talk me into an orgasm.”

  “I wouldn’t mind trying something like that,” Shelly mumbled.

  Georgie winked at her still-virgin friend. “This year, you’re trying it all, remember?” While Shelly’s second-chance resolution had involved losing weight, Georgie had tacked on the added goal of getting her friend laid.

  “We’ll see,” Shelly said, though her tone was too non-committal for Georgie’s liking.

  “I’m confused by the football/sexy voice segue,” Kristen said.

  “When football season started up, I found out Phillip was the announcer for the high school games. He dragged me to a couple in September. It was pure torture. And then it dawned on me that I was facing a fall’s worth of Friday nights sitting in that chilly press box listening to Fist Bump on the loudspeaker. It was sort of eye opening. Not in a good way. So I texted Nick about twenty minutes into that second game to see if he’d pick me up. I was going to feign a headache and get out of there.”

  “Nick?” Kristen asked.

  “We were friends back then.”

  “So you broke off the engagement because of football?” Zoey asked.

  “No. I mean I was definitely reconsidering my answer to his proposal, but unfortunately Fist Bump forced my hand on the wedding a little quicker than I expected.”

  Kristen leaned back, her grin growing. “Buckle in, girls. I think we just got to the good part.”

  “You mock my pain,” Georgie said, quoting her favorite movie, Princess Bride.

  “Yeah, yeah. Get on with it, Buttercup,” Kristen teased.

  “It was halftime. Apparently Phillip’s school was playing their rival and he was super hyped up about it. He grabbed my hand and dragged me down to the field, said they were doing a special presentation thing. My Spidey senses told me something big was about to go down. I tried to break free of his grip, told him I
didn’t need to be on the field with him, but—”

  “Oh God,” Zoey interrupted. “I have a bad feeling about this.”

  “Phillip had planned a surprise wedding for us. There was a Justice of the Peace standing on the fifty-yard line. Fist Bump had that damn microphone and he made some speech about me making him the happiest man on the planet in July when I said yes and that he hoped I’d do it again by saying I do.”

  Shelly winced. “That’s sort of romantic. I guess.”

  Georgie sighed. “It was mortifying. I mean I’m standing in the middle of a football field in front of hundreds of strangers, in this baggy hoodie with my hair up in pigtails and I’m looking at this guy thinking I can’t do this for the rest of my life.”

  “So you ran?” Laura asked.

  “Like a bat out of hell. The only problem was the band had lined up behind me, getting ready to play the wedding march. I didn’t see them. Took out a tuba player and two clarinets. Poor tuba kid looked like a turtle on his back, trying to get up. Even so, that only slowed me down a little bit. I flew down the field, into the touchdown place and scaled a short fence the end. I was halfway across the parking lot when I heard someone calling my name.”

  Shelly leaned closer, clearly enthralled by the story. “Fist Bump?”

  Georgie shook her head. “Nick. He was laughing his ass off.”

  Josie giggled. “I can see why.”

  Georgie grimaced. “Yeah. Me too. I mean I wasn’t laughing that night, but it’s kind of funny now.”

  The rest of the women started chortling.

  “It’s very funny right now,” Zoey corrected. “Like best story ever. I can’t believe you never told us that.”

  Kristen sobered up faster than the other girls. “But it makes me even more confused by this resolution of yours. You can’t seriously think you made a mistake breaking it off with this guy.”

  Georgie resisted the temptation to tell her friends her true goal for happiness, but she didn’t want to jinx herself. She was a big believer in the jinx. If she told them what she was really up to, she was terrified it would keep her from succeeding. She’d let them in on the secret once it had come to pass.