“And Iknowyou don’t care about this right now,” Georgie continued, “but King Global Capital doesn’t just run money. They run legacy. You’d have access, protection, a name that opens doors on at least four continents.”
Bea turned back to the mirror. She smiled, or at least she meant to, but it looked borrowed instead of believed. The sight of it made it hard to keep the corners up at all. “It sounds amazing.”
Georgina watched her. “Don’t be too excited, Bey.”
“I am,” she said. “I am. I just…”
Georgina met her gaze in the mirror. “You’re still scared.”
Bea nodded. “Mm.”
“Of what?”
The answers came slowly, like they’d been crystallizing inside her for months. “Not being enough. Holding him back.”
“How would you hold him back?”
“I already have. He waited for me.” Bea sat down on the edge of the bed, fingers twisting in the hem of her jeans. “I can’t let him down now.”
She hadn’t said that out loud before. It hit harder in air than it did in her head.
Georgina stood, moved beside her, hip to hip. Her bracelets clinked softly as she adjusted. “And if you don’t go,” Georgie said, “what do you think that means to him?”
Bea didn’t answer right away. Then: “That I wasn’t willing to do what it takes.” Her voice was quiet. “That I couldn’t be what he needed me to be.”
A pause. This time a long one, as she forced herself to say it.
“That I didn’t love him enough.”
The words sat there, too heavy to pull back.
The room quieted like someone had turned down the volume on the entire city.
Georgina took both Bea’s hands in her own. She didn’t smile. “Bey, whatever happens…just remember you don’t have to save him.”
Her eyes welled again. This seemed to be her new default setting: emotional and mildly waterlogged.
“Gage will do what he has to do,” Georgie said quietly. “But what do you want?”
Bea looked at her but didn’t answer. Partly because she still didn’t know how to say it. Partly because there wasn’t time to fall apart.
She dabbed her eyes with her knuckles, and told herself it was fine. She was fine.
Georgina didn’t push, just passed her a tissue, folded in half. Then turned back to her eyeliner, like nothing had happened at all.
Bathed in moody light and muted luxury, the booth they’d reserved was more than a table. It was a comeback with a wine list.
Isabel arrived five minutes late.
She wore black satin and lip gloss like armor. Her heels were high enough to say the grieving was over, and so was the grace period.
Bea’s eyes widened. Five weeks ago, Isabel had cried through an iced chocolate and whispered,I thought he was the one.
“You’re—” Bea started.
“I know,” Isabel said, sliding into the booth.
Lillian looked equally dazed. “You look amazing.”
