Chapter Eighteen
George doesn’t speak on the ride from the airport back to his house, where we arrive a little after seven. There, I take the garment bag and laptop case from Declan and send him home while George sadly watches him drive off.
“Inside, George,” I quietly say.
He looks absolutely lost.
After unlocking the door and disarming the alarm, he dumps his stuff on the bench and plods down the hall. I put everything down and lock the door behind us. Then I rearm the alarm. I also use my phone to override the gate.
Next, I text Declan with the Signal app on my personal phone.
No interruptions. I’ll let you know if/when you can come over. Change into jeans and wait for instructions. You were amazing and perfect today, boy. I am so proud of you. I know how difficult that was for you. Love you.
He texts me back a moment later.
Yes, Ma’am. Thank you. Love you, too.
Yes, I can absolutely be a cold-hearted bitch. But I’m sure if you ask Declan, he will tell you that I always praise him, too. Positive reinforcement is the foundation of our dynamic. It keeps him eager to do his best and please me. I’m never stingy with praise.
But I’m also honest with criticism.
Meanwhile, George had headed toward the living room, but I’m not sure if that’s where he ended up. When I finally follow him, I find him in the kitchen, pouring himself a drink. He’s laid his glasses on the counter and now, without his own mask in place, I realize he looks like absolute shit.
He doesn’t glance my way. “Do you want one?”
“What are we drinking?”
He sadly smiles. “Malört.”
I know he’s teasing, but even hearing the name of the stuff makes my face pucker. “Blargh. Malört is Swedish forfuck you, taste buds.”
“God, that stuff washorrible,” he says. “How did she ever talk us into trying it?” He finally glances at me and our gazes connect for a moment.
I lean against the counter. “I think our girl was a closet sadist and never told us.”
A soft laugh chuffs free. “That was some nasty shit. And there you were, trying to outdrink me. So ofcourseI had to keep up.”
I shudder. “Not one of my wiser moments, I’ll admit. Or yours, dumbass. Seriously, what are we drinking?”
He holds up a bottle of Aviation Gin I’ve seen in his freezer.
“Nowyou’re talking. Hit me, barkeep.”
He gets another glass from the cabinet and pours, then brings it over to me and holds his up.
I take it and wait for him to speak.
He stares at the cold gin in his glass. “Toourgirl,” he softly says.
I gently clink with him. “Toourgirl.”
We both silently sip for a couple of minutes. It’s just us now, and I need him to settle in so I can feel him out before I dive in to this.
“If you and Declan are leaving me,” he slowly says after a few minutes, “then I’m withdrawing from the race.” He meets my gaze. “I want to get Ellen’s list done, but I cannot do this without both of you. Without both of you, I won’t have the heart to try.”
I take another sip of gin to buy myself a moment to answer. “Nothing is off the table right now,” I tell him. “Nothing has been decided.” Although his words give me hope that he’ll go along with my plan.
He crosses the kitchen and leans back against the counter as he swirls his cold gin in the glass.
