AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Georgie
Ah, rock bottom. My old friend. It’s been a while since I’ve found myself here—not since Dad’s rough patch, in fact—but I’d be lying if I said there wasn’t something comforting about it.
These ice cream cone-printed jammies. The unending stream of cooking shows blaring from my laptop. The open peanut butter jar on the coffee table, spoon sticking straight up, and the dancing pizza logo on my phone, counting down the minutes until dinner arrives.
Home sweet home. And okay—this is a pity party for one. I get it. I’m in a hell of my own making, and I have no one to blame but myself.
Seriously, what was I thinking? Taking all my bitterness and pain out on another person—so gross. And damn, I wasn’t even good at it.
I’m just not the vengeful type. Dad always teases me because I tear up at cheesy commercials, and I feel crippling guilt when my houseplants die. Who was I kidding?
“It’s fucking raw!” I yell from flat on my back, glaring at the cooking show from where I’m wedged between sofa cushions. If I focus one hundred percent of my brain power on these kitchen nightmares, if I keep up a constant stream of distractions, I won’t have to think about my broken heart. Gordon will save me.
Arguments break out on the screen, and I rub my chest absentmindedly as I watch, breathing slowly through pursed lips. In… and out.
It’s been three days since Levi sent me away. Three whole days of feeling like my soul’s been torn down the middle.
But it’s fine. I’m fine.
The Ignis product launch is soon. He’s probably working flat out, barely coming up for air, grinding his precious life force away on schematics and deadlines and all that crap. If I was there, I could bring him dinner—something hot with vegetables. I could make sure he drinks enough water.
Ow, my heart.
Ow, ow, ow.
These idiot cooks had better claw it back with dessert, I swear to god. I am at the end of my freaking rope.
The knock rattles the front door, and I glance at my phone before rolling off the sofa with a grunt. The pizza has beaten its own countdown. It’s a small win, but I’ll take it.
“Coming!” I call when the knock comes again, an impatient rap on the front door. Hope the delivery guy is ready for a cranky girl in ice cream cone pajamas, because that’s what he’s getting. Snatching up the fistful of bills I left out ready, I weave dizzily between the furniture.
Damn. I know I’m heartbroken and everything, but I really need to stand up more. Maybe after dinner I’ll go outside, get some fresh air, take a walk through the park. After all, I can’t wallow for the rest of my life, can I? And if one day I bump into Levi Laurent again, I want him to see the put-together Georgina Olsen, not this hot mess.
The door swings open. I blink at the gorgeous man staring down at me.
“You’re not the pizza guy,” I blurt.
“I could be,” Levi says, and his deep, rich voice makes my insides quiver. God, I’ve missed that voice. His eyes flick over my shoulder. “If I brought you pizza, would you let me in?”
Oh. Right.
Stumbling back, I wave an arm at the living room. Levi squeezes past, and he’s so much bigger in this environment. Tall and broad-shouldered, brown hair pushed back from his forehead, stubble shading his firm jaw. He looks like he belongs on a red carpet, not in our hallway with its scattered shoes and the pink bobble hat dangling from a coat hook.
Is he really here? Have I finally cracked?
I poke his arm to check. Nope, he’s flesh and blood alright, his crisp white shirt sleeves rolled up to bare his toned forearms. A thin tie draws a dark line down his trim body, and now I’ve swallowed my own tongue. What are words?
“Georgina,” Levi says quietly, and having him close again… hearing him say my name… it hurts so much more than all my distractions. Wrapping both arms around my waist, I squeeze tight, trying to hold myself together. “We need to talk.”
“Okay,” I say, then clear my throat and try again. “Okay.” My voice is stronger the second time, louder and less strangled. “Do you want to go through? It’s a little messy, but there’s a sofa and some chairs. We could—”
A loud knock makes me jump, and I almost hit the ceiling. Levi turns and answers the door; he thanks the delivery man and pays from his own wallet. When he turns back, pizza box in hand, I thrust my own handful of bills at him. He ignores them.
“I interrupted your dinner. Forgive me, Georgina.”
The memory comes swiftly, so painful in its sweetness: taking Levi’s hand for the first time and squeezing his strong fingers. Saying,I’d like to hear the magic word.The way he gazed down at me, green eyes playful and so intense.
“It’s fine,” I rasp, because this man owes me zero apologies. Even the harsh things he said in his office, the words that cut me to the marrow, I deserved. So. Yeah. “Come through, Mr Laurent.”
