“There’s someone,” she said.
“No.”
“Dylan.”
I closed my eyes.
She gave a quiet laugh. “You know, when men say no that fast, it usually means yes with a tragic backstory.”
“She’s not mine.”
“That wasn’t what I asked.”
“She’s young.”
Georgia’s brows lifted.
“Not like that,” I said quickly, then exhaled hard. “She was eighteen when I left. She’s nineteen now.”
Georgia was quiet for a long second.
“And you love her?”
“No.”
That word came too fast too.
Georgia noticed.
Of course she did.
“I don’t know what it is,” I said.
That was the most honest answer I had.
Georgia tucked a strand of highlighted hair behind her ear. “Does she love you?”
I laughed once, low and humorless. “She thinks she does.”
“That sounds like something a man says when he’s trying to decide for a woman.”
I looked at her.
She shrugged. “I’m just saying.”
“She has a whole life ahead of her.”
“So do you.”
“It’s different.”
“Because you think she deserves better?”
“Because she does.”
Georgia looked at me with those bright blue eyes, kind and disappointed and far too clear. “Maybe she does. Maybe you do too.”
I didn’t know what to say to that.
