“Tell Aunt Hannah I hope she feels better,” Georgia said at last. It was an olive branch. She was still furious with him, but her anger was tempered with a touch of understanding.
Buck smiled. “I sure will.” He hesitated, then walked over and kissed her cheek, put on his Stetson, and left.
Quickly, Georgia finished packing and got dressed. Her favorite Breton striped shirt, a comfortable pair of navy pants, and her leather flats. She adjusted her Hermès scarf and as a final touch slicked on more of her signature red lipstick. She checked her phone. She’d already booked a one-way ticket to Charles de Gaulle Airport and ordered a taxi to pick her up at the cottage. It would be here in thirty minutes. But first... she clattered down the stairs to the kitchen, checking to make sure she didn’t run into Star. She was not ready to face her mother just yet. Instead, she scooped the last of the rice pudding into a bowl and headed out the kitchen door. There was one more conversation she needed to have, and then she could leave all this behind her.
34
“You deceived me,”Georgia accused as soon as Cole opened the door. She briefly registered that he was bare chested, dressed in a faded pair of jeans. A few streaks of shaving cream dotted his face, and he held a razor in his hand. She pushed past him, ignoring his ridiculously defined abs. She was holding the last bowl of rice pudding in her hand, still slightly warm and fragrant with cinnamon. She was tired of lies and half-truths. Her relationship with Star and Buck was complicated by time and history and family, but Cole was a different story. She had fallen for him, trusted him, opened up the most vulnerable parts of her heart to him only to find out that he had not been honest with her. Now she was hurt and angered by his silence and what felt like a betrayal. She was ready for some truth telling. She was ready for a confrontation.
The cabin was sparse and clean, furnished simply with a pine table and two chairs, a camp stove and mini fridge, a single cot with a wool army blanket and a crab trap as a nightstand piled high with books. It was cold enough to make her shiver and smelled faintly of seaweed.
“I didn’t deceive you,” Cole countered, shutting the door behind her. “I just didn’t tell you everything.”
“You withheld information from me that changes my entire life,” Georgia protested. She whirled on him, temper flaring, bright and hot as a struck match. “You’ve been keeping thishuge secret from me this whole time. You and Star both.” She looked at him accusingly.
“Star made me promise to keep quiet,” Cole said calmly, carefully. “It wasn’t my secret to tell.” He took a towel from the sink in the corner and wiped the shaving cream from his face, then went over to the camp stove and pulled an enamel coffeepot off a shelf above the table. “Coffee?” he offered.
Georgia shook her head. She stood in the middle of the room, holding the bowl of pudding, fuming with indignation and trying to keep her eyes off his bare chest. A flash of memory from last night crossed her mind, him pulling her close, swaying in time to the bluegrass band, his mouth on hers, warm and hungry. She’d thought it could be the start of something wonderful. She didn’t know he’d been keeping such a devastating secret from her the whole time. The truth of that hurt more than she cared to admit.
“I thought it was a terrible idea when Star first told me her plan,” Cole explained, filling the coffeepot with water from the sink. He lit the stove and put the kettle over the flame. “I spent a good week trying to talk her out of it. But she was desperate to see you before her health got worse. She just wanted time with you, for you two to get to know each other again. And in the end, how was I going to say no to that?” He grabbed a black T-shirt from the bed and slipped it over his head. Georgia glanced away.
“I just wish I’d known sooner,” she muttered.
“What would it have changed?” Cole asked with a frown.
“I don’t know, but it was wrong to keep it from me,” Georgia said stubbornly.
Cole nodded. “I agree. And I’ve regretted it every day since I promised Star I wouldn’t tell you. She begged me to go alongwith it, said it was her final wish. I’m sorry.” He looked at Georgia frankly. “You deserved to know.”
Georgia was brought up short by his apology. She softened just a little, but not enough to let him off the hook. Not yet. “You kissed me while keeping a secret like that,” she said bluntly. “Were you going to let me go back to Paris without knowing the truth?”
Cole looked uneasy. “She promised she’d tell you herself before then.”
“And if she hadn’t?”
“It wasn’t my secret to tell,” he repeated reluctantly.
“So the short answer is yes, you would have let me leave this island and go back to Paris without ever knowing my mother has an incurable, debilitating neurological disease.” Georgia pinned him with a pointed look.
Cole looked uneasy and a little trapped.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” Georgia said shortly. Her eyes flashed. “I expected more from you, Cole.”
He crossed his arms, his expression stony. “In what way?”
“I thought I could trust you to be honest with me.”
“I’ve been honest with you,” he muttered. “As honest as I could be without breaking a promise.”
Georgia looked at him. It was not just about him not telling her about Star’s condition, she realized. What rankled her was also something else. Something about him, and the two of them, and the future that could never be. She saw that clearly now.
“I understand why you didn’t tell me Star’s secret,” she admitted. “I don’t agree with you, but I understand your reasons. But there’s something else too. When you kissed me last night, I felt...” Georgia paused. What had she felt? “I felt like it could be the start of something wonderful. I see now I was wrong.”
“What do you mean?” Cole asked cautiously. “Wrong how?”
“I was fooling myself,” Georgia said. “You’re not ready to start something new with me or anyone else. Look at this.” She gestured around the cabin. “You’re wasting your life out here in this little cabin hiding from your mistakes and your past life. You’re trapped by shame and regret. It’s tragic, because you have so much to give, but you won’t even try because at some point in the past you made a mistake, a big mistake, and someone you love got hurt, and you can’t forgive yourself.”
“I ruined the life of the woman I loved,” Cole said sharply. “To move on would be... callous.” He faced her, his jaw set in a stark, belligerent line.
