Chapter 21

CHAPTER 21

“Are you staying in Rhode Island tonight?” Breena, the makeup artist, dabbed more shit on my forehead.

“I have family in Boston, so I’m going there after we’re done.”

My phone buzzed from my pocket. I pulled it out to check if it was Georgia, only to find a California area code calling. Again. Though this one was a different number than the doctor’s office that had called a few times. The neurologist I’d gone to in LA last week had left me a few messages, but I hadn’t gotten around to calling him back. I sent the current call to voicemail and checked my call log to see if maybe I’d missed Georgia. Of course, I hadn’t.

Breena caught my eye in the mirror and smiled. “That’s too bad. I could’ve showed you around the city.”

She was pretty, but I had zero interest in any woman except the one who’d been avoiding me the last two days. “Thanks. Maybe another time.”

I’d been getting my picture taken since ten o’clock this morning. We’d just finished lunch, and the photographer had said it shouldn’t be more than another hour or two once we restarted. It was a good thing they hadn’t wanted me to smile for this campaign and instead wanted brooding, because brooding was the only damn mood I’d been in since I’d walked into Georgia’s apartment Sunday night.

I knew she’d had lunch with her ex yesterday—that much she’d told me. And he was back in London by now. But I had no idea what was going on in that head of hers. No doubt she was overanalyzing everything to death. Which I didn’t think would work in my favor, since we had an expiration date. It sucked, but I had no right to fight for her when I wasn’t sure what I could offer her long term.

Lyle, the photographer, walked in and interrupted my ruminations. He had Four in his arms, like he had practically since I’d walked in with the dogs this morning. “How would you feel about shooting with this little guy?”

I spoke to his reflection, since Breena was still putting crap on my face. “He’ll probably lick off whatever she’s painting on my skin right now.” I shrugged. “But sure, if that’s what you want. I appreciate you letting me bring them today.”

“Great. I think we got everything the client wanted in the can this morning. Usually, I spend half the time doing what they think they want, then the other half shooting what I think would work better. Nine times out of ten, they go with something I improvised.” He held up his free hand and motioned like he could see writing in the air. “Irresistible, even to the savage beast,” he said. “I think it would make a fun ad. And with your face, it’ll still ooze sexy.”

I shrugged. “If you say so.”

“Tell me, does he have a favorite food? I’d like to shoot some of you lying on a plush rug and the dog licking you. It might work best if we hide some bait behind your neck. There’s a supermarket up the block I can send my assistant to.”

“He likes Cheerios.”

“Perfect! I’ll grab us a box.”

Two hours later, my dogs and I were finally done being photographed. Breena gave me some makeup wipes to remove the shit she’d splattered all over my face. When I was done, she handed me her phone. “I took some pictures of you and the dogs from behind Lyle. They came out adorable. Take a look.”

I swiped through and smiled. They were actually really good. It did look like Four was trying to smell my neck. “Would you mind sending me one or two of them? My nieces would love it.”

“Sure, put your number in, and I’ll text them.”

“Thanks.”

After I said goodbye and set my dogs up in their safety hammocks in the back of my car, my phone pinged with an incoming text. It was Breena, who had sent me a shitload of photos, along with a message at the bottom:

Breena: If you have time on your way back through, give me a call. I’ll show you around Providence. Or…you could just come to my place.

She ended the text with a winky face.

Rather than respond, I forwarded one of the pictures of Four licking my face to Georgia.

Max: From the shoot today. I think my mutts might need their own agent.

I waited a few minutes and watched the text go from delivered to read. I got more excited than I’d been in the last forty-eight hours when I saw the dots start jumping around. But disappointment set in when her response chimed.

A smiley face.

Nothing more.

Grumbling, I tossed my phone into the center console and started my drive to Boston.

• • •

“What’s going on, Altar Boy?” My brother Tate handed me a beer and held his out to clink.

I was standing on his back porch at the railing, looking out at…the lawn, I guess. “Not much. You?”

“Nursing a bit of a hangover,” he said.

“On a Tuesday?”

“I had a few drinks while Cass was out last night. She went to book club. By the way, I’m thinking of starting one of those things.”

“You? Read?”

“She leaves with two bottles of wine and a book and comes back drunk. Book club is just code for the married woman’s girls’ night out.” He sipped his beer. “I’m thinking my guys’ book club will read historical fiction—you know, 1950s Playboy magazines that have articles on how to get your woman to give you head after you’re married—and our meetings will be at the bar.”

I chuckled. “Let me know how that goes over with Cass.”

Tate leaned over the railing. “So what’s bugging you?”

“Who says something is bugging me?”

“Well, one, I got you in a headlock in less than thirty seconds. That hasn’t happened since you were twelve. Two, at dinner, Cassidy brought up that I’d made an appointment to get snipped, and you didn’t even joke about my balls being cut off a long time ago, and three, you’ve checked your phone forty times in the two hours you’ve been here.” He paused. “Girl problems?”

I sighed and nodded.

“Georgia?”

“Can’t be anyone else, since I haven’t noticed another woman since the day I walked by that bar and saw her smiling.”

“What’s going on?”

I hadn’t filled Tate in on the details of my relationship with Georgia. And I wasn’t usually the kind of guy to talk about problems with women I was dating, but looking back, I think that might’ve been more because I didn’t have any than because I didn’t want to discuss them.

“Long story short, she was engaged. He broke it off and moved to London for a year. Told her he wanted to have an open relationship. I knew that going in. She was upfront about her situation. I figured it was the perfect scenario. I’m moving in a few months, and she wasn’t looking for anything serious because she’s not sure where she stands with her ex. And we burned hot, which in my history usually means it burns out pretty fast.”

“And…it didn’t fizzle out? You’ve fallen for her?”

I nodded and sucked back my beer. “Her ex showed up unannounced the other day. He told her he wanted her back.”

“Shit.” Tate shook his head. “I’m sorry, man. I guess she’s taking him?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know. She said she needed some time to think things over.”

“But you told her how you feel about her?”

I shook my head.

“Why the hell not? That’s not like you. You usually go five-hundred miles an hour after the thing you want. We’re all afraid to get in your way because we’ll get run over. What’s the rest of the story you’re not telling me?”

I caught my brother’s eye. “She doesn’t know.”

Tate’s head dropped. “I thought you said you were going to tell her?”

“It just…never seemed like the right time.”

My brother was quiet for a long time. Eventually, he nodded. “And now you’re thinking you should just bow out—walk away because she deserves more than you can promise her.”

I was close with all of my brothers, but Tate knew me best. I nodded.

“Fuck.” He blew out a long breath and shook his head. “I get it, man. I really do. I’d do whatever I needed to not hurt Cass. But you gotta know Georgia deserves the truth. We aren’t kids anymore. What are you going to do? Walk away every time you get into a relationship that means anything to you?” Tate looked at me. When I said nothing, he shook his head. “Jesus, really? You’re shittin’ me. That’s your plan? You can’t be serious.”

He stood. “You know what? I’m not going to lecture you because it’s your life. But I seem to remember a guy I looked up to once giving some really good advice to someone else. ‘If you’re not living life the way you want, you’re dying anyway.’”

I shook my head. “Yeah, and look what that got him.”