“His mom passing.”
Oh. Oh hell.
George’s mom is gone?
How did I not know that? Well, I guess that’s what happens when I try to avoid any kind of news or updates about BnB-related topics. I guess I just assumed the Bunsens were a carbon copy of the Newtons. If I ever gave a thought to George’s mom, I only envisioned a twin of Meg Newton.
Shawn doesn’t talk about his mom too much with me because, well, awkward. But I’ve gathered that she met Karl in college during some joint fraternity/sorority function, and they married not long after graduating. Meg Newton mainly does work with charities, sittingon boards and arranging events and whatnot. I met her once, on the day Shawn and I were introduced. In my mind, she’s an intimidating, reserved woman concerned with her image in society and working under the assumption that money can fix most things.
But George’s mom was her own woman who I know nothing about.
“When did that happen?” I murmur, wondering if he can hear us through the door. Probably not, with how much my brother pays for this place.
“Five years ago. It was unexpected. Harriet…well, there was a lot in her system. Pills and…it’s just a hard day for him.”
In an instant, I’m transported back to the night Shawn and his stoner friend picked me up from the hospital. The night I found out my mom had an aggressive form of breast cancer. The night I was sure she got a death sentence.
I thought I was going to lose my mom. George actually did. Five years might seem like a long time to some people, but I bet the hurt is still as bad as when he first found out.
He showed me an up and over. Something he did with his mom.
I rub my chest, not sure what the feeling in my breastbone is, only knowing that it’s big.
“I get it,” I say, and Shawn’s shoulders relax at my understanding. “We can do book club another night.” That offer hurts to make. I’m not sure how many more of these I’ll have.
“What? No! I’m telling you; he definitely doesn’t want to just sit around sad all night.” Shawn slips my bag off my shoulder, making it impossible for me to leave. “He used to spend the day with Elle. But even though their divorce was amicable and they’re friends, he told her he was good. But I know he’snotgood.”
Bomb dropped.
“George wasmarried?” I gape at my brother. My George Bunsen knowledge has a hell of a lot more holes than I realized.
“Yeah. But he’s not broken up about it. Trust me.” Shawn grips the doorknob. “He just gets lonely sometimes. And that’s where we come in. We’ll have book club, like normal.”
“Like normal?” I can feel my eyebrows creep up my forehead as I try to focus on what’s unfolding in front of me instead of getting trapped in thoughts about George’s ex-wife. “You know how we discuss books isn’t exactly socially acceptable.”
Shawn throws an evil grin over his shoulder as he pushes his way into his penthouse, taking my stuff with him. “We do book club the right way.”
I huff and follow after him, knowing I cannot act the way I normally do with my brother in front of anyone else. Definitely not George.
Maybe Darla. She’d find it amusing.
We walk through the foyer into the kitchen/living room.
And there’s George, perched on a barstool, staring at the beer in his hand as if the surgeon general’s warning is news to him. He focused on his drink the same way in the motel last week beforeMasters of the Airhelped break the tension.
“And now we’re all here!” Shawn drops my bag next to his massive sectional before strolling to the oven. There, he pulls out carry-out containers he’s kept warm. I smell the savory goodness of Chinese take-out.
But even the delicious aroma of General Tso can’t distract me from the third in this equation.
“Beth,” George stands abruptly. The stool wobbles, but he catches it and greets me with a nod of his head.
That head. I can still feel the weight of it on my stomach.
Don’t blush. Don’t think of him rescuing puppies and offering you his delicious-smelling shirt so you could sleep comfortably.
Don’t think of up and overs.
Don’t think of him once being married to a woman you’ve never heard of before.
