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Oh, my heart. If anyone is a saint here, it’s Georgina. I press my lips to hers. And as I do, a dam breaks inside me. Girlfriend isn’t enough. Matching tattoos aren’t enough. I want it all, and I can’t deny it a second longer. I want Georgina to take my name and wear my ring. I want us to pledge forever to each other in the most sacred way known to humankind. I want her to be my wife.
I’ve tried my damnedest to avoid reaching this conclusion. I’ve shucked and jived and thrown shiny objects into my own path to divert myself from reaching it. But the truth is, with each new ploy designed to convince myself I’m perfectly satisfied with shacking up, with each new label I use—whether it’s girlfriend, lover, or partner—and each tiny letter we get permanently inscribed onto our bodies, all of it keeps bringing me to the same place. The same inescapable conclusion. It’s not nearly enough. I want Georgina to be my one and only wife. Forever. And I won’t settle for anything less.
“So, can I submit this article, as is? Please?”
I look into her hazel eyes, feeling overwhelmed with love and excitement about the decision I just made. “Just be prepared for CeeCee to say it’s not what she wanted.”
“I’ll take that chance.”
“Okay, you win, you relentless force of nature. Submit it. But only if you do a happy dance for me.”
Squealing, Georgina gets up and gives me what I’ve demanded, making me laugh and clap. Breathlessly, she slides back into her chair, as I refill our champagne glasses and say a toast to the “godawful” article.
“So... there’s actually one more thing I’ve been wanting to talk to you about,” she says, putting down her champagne glass. “I figured I’d wait until you got home to tell you about it in person.”
My stomach tightens. What now? “Okay...”
Georgina exhales loudly. “It’s Isabel.”
Chapter 31
Reed
Georgina strokes the stem of her glass. “Remember I told you Isabel’s PR person had contacted me a few weeks ago and said she didn’t want to do the skydiving thing, after all? That she decided she wanted to do a conventional lunch interview?”
“Yeah. I thought you said you were going to cancel the whole thing. You said you didn’t feel right interviewing Isabel, now that we’re together.”
“Yeah, and I meant that when I said it.” She grimaces. “Turns out, though, I never got around to actually cancelling. I started having this fantasy I could show up to the lunch, and tell Isabel we’re together, and let her decide if she wanted to proceed with the interview.” She makes an adorable face I’d caption, Sorry, not sorry. “And now I’ve dragged my feet so long on cancelling, I’m in a bit of a pickle.” She winces. “I’m scheduled to meet Isabel for lunch tomorrow.”
“Georgina Marie.”
“I know, I know. I’m a bad girl. It’s just that texting her PR woman to cancel feels so anti-climactic and unsatisfying compared to getting to tell Isabel, to her face, I’m your girlfriend, and then watching her expression as she puts two and two together and realizes I’m the woman you were talking about in that surveillance video. Although, I promise, I’d never mention the video itself or what I saw or heard in it.”
Ah. I get it. Georgina can’t help wanting that delicious moment of revenge for herself, every bit as much as I wanted the pleasure of making that PA scurry back to C-Bomb to let him know I’m the “boyfriend” Georgina mentioned during her interview of RCR. And you know what? I don’t blame her. Frankly, after the shit I pulled in that garage, I think it’s only fair Georgina should get to enjoy a triumphant moment like that.
“If I’m being immature and vindictive, tell me so,” Georgina says. “But the truth is, I want Isabel to realize, if she’s only marrying Howard to try to win you back, she’s going to have to go through me to do that.”
Oh, my gorgeous fireball. She’s a blazing pyre before me. Physically glowing with passion. “You know what?” I say. “Go for it.”
“Really?”
“Why not? Once your article about me comes out in Rock ‘n’ Roll, Isabel will find out about us, anyway. You might as well experience the pleasure of telling her yourself, in person. But, if you don’t mind, I’d like to come along, so she understands we’re a team—that I’m as committed to you, as you are to me.”
“Oh my gosh! I’d love that.”
“Just be prepared for Isabel to get pissed off and feel like we’ve ambushed her.”
Georgina’s eyes ignite. “Yes, please.”
I laugh.
Georgina’s face flashes with mischief. “Actually, now that an actual interview of Isabel isn’t going to happen, I can’t see the downside of me asking her about Howard. I still haven’t been able to get a single actress who’s worked with Howard to talk to me on the record, although several of them have told Hannah and me horror stories, off the record. CeeCee said she won’t publish anything based solely on anonymous sources. So, I might as well go for broke and ask Isabel if she’s heard any of the rumors and see what she says.”
