She glares at me. “Yeah? And what about you, Emmett? Are you going to drop everything and run, too?”
The accusation stings, mostly because she’s not entirely wrong. “Funny you should mention that. Because actually, my agent wants me to fly to Iceland for a documentary gig. I didn’t say yes, but…”
She laughs. “You didn’t say yes, but you didn’t say no, either.”
I want to say something clever, something that will make her smile again. But it all sounds stupid in my head. “I don’t want to leave you,” is all I can manage.
She shakes her head, disappointment pooling in her eyes. “Right. Of course.” Georgia picks up the glass of water, but her grip slips. She drops the glass and it bounces off the edge of the sink, and then explodes on the tile in a spray of shards and ice.
She doesn’t even flinch and just stands there, letting the water soak her bare feet.
Miles moves toward her, but she takes a step back. “Don’t,” she says. “Just don’t. Just leave mealone.”
“I can clean this up,” I say gently, and she glares at me.
And then turns on her heels and storms out, leaving the mess behind.
Miles lets out a sigh as the door slams behind her. “I didn’t mean to cause a problem.”
I slide off the stool and go for the broom. “No, but you did.”
He gives me a look and then slips out of the kitchen, his phone already ringing again. I watch him go, and shake my head.
We’re definitely hanging on by a fucking thread.
Once the kitchen is back to its usual pristine state—including cleaning up the glass, washing dishes, and putting away uneaten food—I head straight for Georgia’s room.
I hover outside of her door for a minute, taking a deep breath, and then knock twice. “Hey, can we talk?”
No answer.
I try again, this time a little more insistent. “Georgie, please. Let’s talk about this. I know you’re feeling a lot right now.”
Still nothing, so I stand there, listening to the faint sniffles and the occasional shuffle of movement inside. I can practically see her, curled up on the bed in an emotional mess. The image makes my chest ache.
Damnit, Georgia, just let me in.
After a minute, I press my forehead to the door and try again, “You don’t have to talk. Just open the door. We don’t even have to make eye contact.”
There’s a silence, and I’m about give in when finally, there’s a click, and the door cracks open just wide enough for her to peer up at me.
She meets my gaze, then looks away, and retreats to the far corner of the bed, knees up, arms locked around them. She’s a full-blown mess, with red, puffy eyes, messy hair, and her oversized sweatshirt hanging off her loosely.
But she’s still the most beautiful woman I’ve ever fucking seen.
I step inside, close the door quietly behind me, and take a seat at the edge of the bed, giving her plenty of space. “Not gonna lie, I thought you were going to lock me out for good.”
Georgia says nothing. She just picks at her thumbnail.
I swallow hard. “So, Miles will be off saving the world, and you’re giving me the silent treatment. This is a bleak new frontier for me, but I’ll just have to persevere. I’m known for my resilience.”
Her lips twitch, but she doesn’t allow herself to smile. Instead, she squeezes her knees tighter to her chest, only eyeing me for a second.
I shift so I’m facing her, one leg up, hands loose and open on my knee. “Look, I know it feels like everyone’s abandoning ship—no pun intended. But it’s not what you think. I know it’s a shitty time for him to leave, but?—”
She cuts me off, voice small but sharp. “You’re leaving, too.”
I blink, completely having forgotten about the stupid Iceland thing. “Only if you want me to. I don’thaveto jet off for that right now.”
