And as if she knew I was thinking about her, Georgia appears on the deck, barefoot, hair pulled up in a clip. She gives me a tight-lipped smile and throws a curious look at Miles who continues to pace.
“Hey, good morning,” I whisper to avoid another eye scolding from Miles.
She opens her mouth to say something, but Miles voice gets even louder.
“Look, I’ll just fly in tonight. It’ll be fine. Then you don’t have to worry about doing it alone. Problem fucking solved!” He’s not paying attention—his world has shrunk to the phone and whatever crises awaits him in Manhattan.
But I don’t miss Georgia’s entire demeanor shift. Nor the way she spins around and heads right back inside.
Oh shit.
I jump up from the lounger and follow. When I find Georgia she’s already at the stove, beating eggs with a violent intensity. She doesn’t look up when I come in. She just continues to beat the eggs like they personally did her wrong.
“Morning, peach,” I say, coming up behind her.
She tenses, just a little, then shakes her head. “Morning.”
I take a seat at the counter. The scent of burnt toast hangs in the air, and when I look closer, I see she the toaster is on the max setting.
“You okay, babe?” I try to keep my tone light.
She shrugs, pushing the eggs around in the frying pan now. “Fine. Just tired.”
“Listen,” I give her a soft look, “I know yesterday was rough. No one’s expecting you to bounce right back. Hell, I still want to punch your old man, and I’m not even the one he threatened to disown.”
She snorts, and a wisp of her old smile ghosts her lips. “You? Violent?”
I hold up my fists. “I’m scrappy. I’ll take him in down.”
She laughs, and for a second, I think she’s okay, but then from outside, Miles’s voice rises—sharp, urgent, snapping out names and times and dollar amounts like he’s barking commands on a battlefield.
Georgia’s eyes go hard as she dumps the eggs onto four plates and drops the frying pan into the sink with a clang. “He’s leaving,” she spits out, setting my plate in front of me. “I know he is.”
I stare down at the eggs and hesitate before looking up at her. “It’s probably urgent. I’m sure he’ll talk to us…”
She shakes her head. “Why would he?” She picks up a glass, fills it with water, then slams it down on the counter so hard it I’m shocked it doesn’t shatter. “Why would he evenwantto stay here? Maybe my father is right.” Her expression contorts into something I can’t read.
“Hey,” I say, softening my voice. “He’s not running. He just?—”
“Everyone always does,” she snaps at me, and then shifts her eyes to Miles, now entering the kitchen.He’s finally off his phone.
I brace for impact.
“I have to go,” he says, voice low. “Now. There’s a client in crisis, and the firm needs me in New York before nightfall.”
Georgia’s expression doesn’t change. She wipes her hands on a towel, then folds it with mechanical precision.
“Of course you do,” she says.
Miles hesitates, caught mid-step. “This isn’t about what happened yesterday. I just need to go.”
“And so that’s it?” Her voice quivers. “You just go, and then disappear, avoiding all the drama?”
He looks visibly gutted, but he holds his ground. “You know I don’t want to leave. But I don’t have a choice.”
“Bullshit,” she says, voice rising. “You have a choice. You said you were basicallyretired.”
I decide to intervene, for all the good it’ll do. “Georgia?—”
