Walk of Shame
Page 51
And they would get through it. They had to. He just needed to make her see logic.
“You need to know that I didn’t take the job,” he said, reaching for her. “I passed it off to one of the other partners.”
Her head whipped back around to him. She was hurt, and she was pissed.
“That’s supposed to make it better? You still could have told me! How long ago did she try to hire you?”
He lifted a hand to rub the back of his neck, knowing honesty was best, but dreading it all the same. “A couple of weeks ago.”
Her brown eyes went wide. “Weeks?”
“That day when you came to my office and we went to lunch. I got a phone call—”
“And had to leave,” she finished. “Good God, that was my mother?”
“No, it was one of the senior partners. All potential clients go through him first, and he assigns them as he sees fit.”
“But she requested you,” Georgiana said. “On that day.”
Andrew nodded.
“Of course,” she said, digging the heels of her hands into her eye sockets. “Because you’re the best, and she’d want the best when she decided to leave my dad.”
Her voice was raw, and he stepped toward her, wanting to hold her, but she batted his hand away. “Don’t.”
It was no less than he expected, but the rejection chafed all the same. “Georgiana, I understand why you’re angry. You have to know that I wanted to tell you, but client confidentiality—”
“It was my mom, Andrew! My family!” she yelled. “I get that you’re a robot sometimes, but do you understand that you were helping my parents get divorced? And that one of them didn’t even know?”
“I understand, but—”
“No but,” she said, exploding into a ball of fury. Her hands were hitting his shoulders now, the frantic gesture hurting his heart a lot more than his body. “To think that just as I was starting to believe in love, you were busy destroying it.”
He swallowed, the pain of her accusation blasting him like an arrow to the heart. “That’s not fair. I didn’t ask for this.”
“Maybe not,” she said, dropping her head so that her chin rested tiredly on her chest. “Maybe not. But it doesn’t change what you are.”
“Which is?” he asked through gritted teeth, knowing the answer would hurt.
Her eyes were clear. Accusing. “You’re the Tin Man. Isn’t that the character with no heart? You may have been right that day. I’m the Scarecrow, with no brain. I feel like today probably proves it, because I so did not see this coming. But I’d rather be a little flighty than cold. I’d rather be short on brains than short on heart.”
The hurt was sharp and unfamiliar, and it made him angry. “Georgiana. Stop. Just stop. I know you’re upset, but stop overreacting and think about this logically.”
He knew it was the wrong thing to say even before she went deadly still and stared at him. “Overreacting? My family is falling apart, you kept it a secret, and I’m overreacting? And you want logic? News flash, robot. Not everything can be logical. Some things are messy, and—”
“Only because you make them messy!” he shouted, furious that he couldn’t get control of the situation. “You want a news flash? Here’s one: not everything works out like your stupid movies. In fact, most things don’t. This is real life, Georgiana. Grow up.”
His voice was harsh, but not as harsh as the silence that followed his outburst.
She was crying, messy tears running down her face because she was messy. Messy and emotional and . . .
Georgiana swiped angrily at her tears, smearing her makeup in the process and not seeming to care in the least.
“So,” she said, her voice flat. “We’re done here?”
Done? Hell no, they weren’t done. Not now, not ever.
He inhaled to rein in his temper and frustration. “Why don’t we talk after you’ve calmed down?”
Again it was the wrong thing to say. She let out a short, mirthless laugh, her head falling back as she blinked up at the ceiling.
When she brought her gaze back to him once more, her beautiful eyes were cold and hard, and she looked nothing like the woman he knew. The woman he adored. “You know what, Andrew? If growing up and calming down mean I’ll end up more like you, I’ll take a pass on that.”
“Georgiana—”
She held up a hand. “You know, all this time I thought our biggest obstacle was our difference in schedules, and if we could just figure out how to fit into each other’s life, we’d be okay. But it’s so much more hopeless than that, isn’t it? Because I’m always going to be the girl who wants the fairy-tale ending, and you’re never going to be the guy to give it to me. Are you?”
Andrew’s chest tightened in panic. He didn’t know what to say. Didn’t know how to respond to someone who dealt in emotions, not facts. And the facts were that people rarely rode off into the sunset. The sooner she accepted that, the happier she’d be. They’d be.
“We have a good thing,” he said quietly. “Let’s just keep taking it one day at a time, see where things go.”
She was already shaking her head and moving toward the door. “Not good enough, Andrew.”
“Well, what would be good enough?” he said, voice rising again in frustration. “What the hell do you want from me? From us?”
She spun back around, tears gone, face angry. “I want a man who doesn’t have to ask that. I want a man who knows how to use this”—she pointed at his chest—“as well as that,” she said, pointing at his head. “And that’s not you. We both know it’s not.”
Andrew wanted to contradict her. He wanted to drag her back, beg her to give him a chance.
Instead, he let her go. He did nothing and let Georgiana Watkins walk away, because she was right.
He was not that guy.
Georgie
TUESDAY EVENING It takes me a couple of days before I’m ready to face the world, and when I’m finally ready, I start with baby steps.
I open my front door to Marley, who’s holding a box of pizza with two blocks of mozzarella on top.
“Um,” I say.
“Well,” she says, pushing into my apartment, “I ordered a pizza and asked for extra cheese. But then I was like, what if that’s not enough cheese, you know? So I stopped and got some extra, because . . . cheese.”
“You need to know that I didn’t take the job,” he said, reaching for her. “I passed it off to one of the other partners.”
Her head whipped back around to him. She was hurt, and she was pissed.
“That’s supposed to make it better? You still could have told me! How long ago did she try to hire you?”
He lifted a hand to rub the back of his neck, knowing honesty was best, but dreading it all the same. “A couple of weeks ago.”
Her brown eyes went wide. “Weeks?”
“That day when you came to my office and we went to lunch. I got a phone call—”
“And had to leave,” she finished. “Good God, that was my mother?”
“No, it was one of the senior partners. All potential clients go through him first, and he assigns them as he sees fit.”
“But she requested you,” Georgiana said. “On that day.”
Andrew nodded.
“Of course,” she said, digging the heels of her hands into her eye sockets. “Because you’re the best, and she’d want the best when she decided to leave my dad.”
Her voice was raw, and he stepped toward her, wanting to hold her, but she batted his hand away. “Don’t.”
It was no less than he expected, but the rejection chafed all the same. “Georgiana, I understand why you’re angry. You have to know that I wanted to tell you, but client confidentiality—”
“It was my mom, Andrew! My family!” she yelled. “I get that you’re a robot sometimes, but do you understand that you were helping my parents get divorced? And that one of them didn’t even know?”
“I understand, but—”
“No but,” she said, exploding into a ball of fury. Her hands were hitting his shoulders now, the frantic gesture hurting his heart a lot more than his body. “To think that just as I was starting to believe in love, you were busy destroying it.”
He swallowed, the pain of her accusation blasting him like an arrow to the heart. “That’s not fair. I didn’t ask for this.”
“Maybe not,” she said, dropping her head so that her chin rested tiredly on her chest. “Maybe not. But it doesn’t change what you are.”
“Which is?” he asked through gritted teeth, knowing the answer would hurt.
Her eyes were clear. Accusing. “You’re the Tin Man. Isn’t that the character with no heart? You may have been right that day. I’m the Scarecrow, with no brain. I feel like today probably proves it, because I so did not see this coming. But I’d rather be a little flighty than cold. I’d rather be short on brains than short on heart.”
The hurt was sharp and unfamiliar, and it made him angry. “Georgiana. Stop. Just stop. I know you’re upset, but stop overreacting and think about this logically.”
He knew it was the wrong thing to say even before she went deadly still and stared at him. “Overreacting? My family is falling apart, you kept it a secret, and I’m overreacting? And you want logic? News flash, robot. Not everything can be logical. Some things are messy, and—”
“Only because you make them messy!” he shouted, furious that he couldn’t get control of the situation. “You want a news flash? Here’s one: not everything works out like your stupid movies. In fact, most things don’t. This is real life, Georgiana. Grow up.”
His voice was harsh, but not as harsh as the silence that followed his outburst.
She was crying, messy tears running down her face because she was messy. Messy and emotional and . . .
Georgiana swiped angrily at her tears, smearing her makeup in the process and not seeming to care in the least.
“So,” she said, her voice flat. “We’re done here?”
Done? Hell no, they weren’t done. Not now, not ever.
He inhaled to rein in his temper and frustration. “Why don’t we talk after you’ve calmed down?”
Again it was the wrong thing to say. She let out a short, mirthless laugh, her head falling back as she blinked up at the ceiling.
When she brought her gaze back to him once more, her beautiful eyes were cold and hard, and she looked nothing like the woman he knew. The woman he adored. “You know what, Andrew? If growing up and calming down mean I’ll end up more like you, I’ll take a pass on that.”
“Georgiana—”
She held up a hand. “You know, all this time I thought our biggest obstacle was our difference in schedules, and if we could just figure out how to fit into each other’s life, we’d be okay. But it’s so much more hopeless than that, isn’t it? Because I’m always going to be the girl who wants the fairy-tale ending, and you’re never going to be the guy to give it to me. Are you?”
Andrew’s chest tightened in panic. He didn’t know what to say. Didn’t know how to respond to someone who dealt in emotions, not facts. And the facts were that people rarely rode off into the sunset. The sooner she accepted that, the happier she’d be. They’d be.
“We have a good thing,” he said quietly. “Let’s just keep taking it one day at a time, see where things go.”
She was already shaking her head and moving toward the door. “Not good enough, Andrew.”
“Well, what would be good enough?” he said, voice rising again in frustration. “What the hell do you want from me? From us?”
She spun back around, tears gone, face angry. “I want a man who doesn’t have to ask that. I want a man who knows how to use this”—she pointed at his chest—“as well as that,” she said, pointing at his head. “And that’s not you. We both know it’s not.”
Andrew wanted to contradict her. He wanted to drag her back, beg her to give him a chance.
Instead, he let her go. He did nothing and let Georgiana Watkins walk away, because she was right.
He was not that guy.
Georgie
TUESDAY EVENING It takes me a couple of days before I’m ready to face the world, and when I’m finally ready, I start with baby steps.
I open my front door to Marley, who’s holding a box of pizza with two blocks of mozzarella on top.
“Um,” I say.
“Well,” she says, pushing into my apartment, “I ordered a pizza and asked for extra cheese. But then I was like, what if that’s not enough cheese, you know? So I stopped and got some extra, because . . . cheese.”
