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“Why him? You could have anyone you want. You’re beautiful, and you’re more talented than anyone I’ve ever known…” Pulling the pins from my hair, followed by the hairband, he shakes my long tresses free until they’re falling around me. There’s a beat of silence where the only sounds are my teary hiccups and his rough breaths. Then he asks, “What does he have, Georgina? What does he have that…”
The question trails off into silence, and before he can ask another, I tell him, “My love. He has all my love, and it’s not my sparkle he’s stolen.”
Sniffing away the remainder of my tears, I do the right thing and remove myself from his hold. It was a mistake to let this happen between me and Jordan. I should’ve known better than to let him comfort me because as much as I tried to push it down and dampen it, in my gut, I’ve always known that he has feelings he shouldn’t have for me. Feelings that I can’t return even though I know that he’s exactly the kind of man I should want in my life. He should be the prize I keep my eyes on. We want the same things. We are similar in every way. And still…
Grabbing a make-up wipe when I’m at the vanity again, I wipe my face down, cleaning away the dark, teary streaks on my cheeks and the smudged mascara and eyeliner leftover from tonight’s performance.
“He hasn’t stolen anything,” I say as I glance up and find his hurting stare in the mirror. “I gave Freddie my soul.”
“Then take it back,” he snaps petulantly as though that is something I could actually do—simply take it back. “Take it back before he destroys you.”
“I can’t.” My words are nothing if not sure. “And if I could, I don’t want to.”
“So what? You’re going to stand on the sidelines and watch him fuck around with her?”
“I told you, I need to think about what I’m going to do. I have to figure it out for myself because I don’t want to look back and regret my decision.”
Jordan ambles over to the chaise seat and grabs his bag from the floor, swinging it over his shoulder at the same time as he turns to face me again.
“Put yourself first, George. Don’t let him tear down your peak.” A wistful smirk pulls at his lips as he rolls his shoulders back and adds, “That’s your friend talking, not…not…nobody else. Just your friend.”
“Thank you.” I nod, miming my gratitude as I pick my duffel from the vanity and follow him out of the door.
Jordan heads back towards the ruckus coming from backstage while I follow one of my detail to the back entrance of the Opera House with the other guy tailing behind us. For a moment, I contemplate sacking them off and letting my hair down tonight, but then the doors open, and it’s not my usual ride that’s waiting for me.
“Get in,” Casper calls, dipping to look across the cab of his Lamborghini as he opens the door for me to do as he’s told me.
I don’t argue with him, given that Cooper ushers me straight to the car and boxes me in until I do as I was asked. He and Casper exchange a look before he tells him, “I’ll follow behind with Rick. Nothing all day.”
“Thanks.” Casper nods his way as he starts the engine, gesturing for him to close the door with a lift of his chin. “I’ll take it from here.”
“You’ll take what from here?” I ask him as I put on my seat belt. “What’re you doing here? Shouldn’t you be at home with your wife and daughter?”
“Cooper’s had eyes on you for over forty-eight hours. He needs to go home to his family too, and I want to spend time with my baby sister.” A clenched grin follows up his remark.
Sure, Casper has been really making an effort lately to be present, but the whole spending time with his baby sister shit isn’t him. I don’t care how many babies Fleur pops out, he doesn’t say shit like that. Ever.
“What?” he asks as I stare him out, trying to understand what’s happening here.
“Did Christopher talk to you? Is that why you’re here? If it is, I’m—”
“What does Christopher know that I don’t?” The expecting expression on his face tells me that he’s oblivious to my meltdown this morning. “George?”
“If you haven’t spoken to Christopher, then why are you really here? I’m not silly, or at least not completely anyway.” Looking out of the window as he takes the turning that leads to Freddie’s side of town, I stiffen. He must notice because he slows down ever so slightly as though he’s trying to buy us more time. “Where are you taking me?”
“To dinner. Just you and me. We’re going to talk because I can see that you’re losing yourself, and if there’s one thing I’ve always admired about you, it’s that you know who you are and what you want, and you’re not scared to go for it.”
“Arabella told you about New York.”
“Too fucking right she did.” He shrugs as though it’s an obvious thing for them. Like duh, they talk about me all the time.
“Did she also tell you about the pain she’s in? Physical pain. So much so that she’s not sleeping?”
“Yes, Christopher told me, and while Bella might be struggling with the pregnancy right now, she’s going to be fine. But you…George…?”
The softness of his question isn’t lost on me. However, I know it’s another way of him making me listen to him. Casper wants to disarm me so that he can better talk me into whatever it is he thinks I need to do. He’s exactly like Dad—sweet-talking his way into my head so that he gets what he wants. Too bad that I’ve had twenty-four years of experience, and it stopped working a long, long time ago.
“Casper, I might not be pushing forty,” I snap at him, adding the dig so that maybe he drops the conversation in favour of teasing me back. “But I’m not a little kid that you can encourage and nudge to do what you think is best.”
