The Sweetheart Sham Page 8

  I saw Mr. Monroe outside as I ran past this morning, and he said I should come over for breakfast, which is how I ended up in their kitchen.

  “What are you doing here?” Georgia Ann asks as soon as she comes downstairs. I didn’t even hear her. I look her way from the counter. She’s still in her pajamas. Pink ones with polka dots and not a stitch of makeup. I can’t look at her in the wrong way, or for too long because she’s my cousin’s girl, so I avert my eyes. Not that the image isn’t burned into my retinas and on replay.

  I cross my arms. “What do you mean?”

  She scowls at me; it makes her nose crinkle up. Cute. Everything she does is cute. She is dating your cousin.

  “Why are you in my house?”

  “Your dad made coffee,” I say, pointing to the two mugs.

  “Yeah, it’s his house so he can do that. I meant why are you here so early.”

  I smile at her. “He invited me to breakfast. Plus, I think I asked someone to hang out with me, then she disappeared.”

  “I never said I would.”

  “You never said you wouldn’t.”

  Georgia Ann sighs. “I’ve been busy. You have basketball anyway.”

  “Not on Saturdays.”

  “Hang out with Will,” she says.

  “He’s not here today,” I respond.

  She uncrosses her arms. “Right. They’re with the Stanguards.”

  “The only one at home is my dad. I’d rather go toe-to-toe with an alligator.”

  She searches my gaze for a minute. “So here you are.”

  We stare at each other across the space in the kitchen. Her hair is falling down from her bun. I want to reach over and push it off her face like I used to. Neither of us says anything as we stare at each other. I can almost feel the energy between us. It’s not something I’ve had with anyone else since her. I’d almost convinced myself it’d never happened in the first place. She’s not yours. I know she’s not and she can’t be. She’s with Will, and they both get to be happy. I still want to be her friend and move forward.

  “Beau,” she says. She steps a little closer to me. “That’s my coffee mug.”

  I blink and look down as Georgia Ann reaches past me toward a blue mug.

  I pull it away. “It doesn’t have your name on it.”

  She reaches for the mug in my hand, and her fingers brush mine. It’s enough to send my heart racing. Georgia Ann turns the mug upside down and shoves the bottom in my face. There, carved in the bottom in tiny print, is her name.

  “I stand corrected.” I let her have the mug, and the look of victory on her face is remarkably smug. I like it.

  While I’m watching her, the coffee pot dings and she scoots past me to pour her own cup. “What do you want to do today?” I ask her.

  “Let me start with getting dressed.”

  “You’re good,” I say, and she freezes. “I mean, you’re good as in, do that.”

  She turns to walk away when her dad comes in. “Morning, Georgia Girl. I invited Beau over for breakfast.”

  “I saw. Waffles?”

  “That’s the plan,” he says, then turns to me. “You still like waffles?”

  “Yes, sir,” I say.

  Georgia Ann looks at her dad. “Where’s Momma?”

  “Headache,” he says. There’s a look that passes between them; I can’t quite read it, but Georgia Ann looks nervous. “She’ll be okay once we get her some food.”

  She nods and looks toward me. “I’ll be right back down.”

  Mr. Monroe is pulling out the waffle maker, and I’m standing awkwardly in the kitchen. I offer to help but he says no, so I sit at the bar.

  “That’s a good coffee today. Austrian. One of my favorites,” he says.

  I’m not a big coffee person but I take a sip. “What’s wrong with Mrs. J?”

  He glances at me. “She gets migraines, ever since the brain tumor. She’ll be right as rain in no time.”

  “Brain tumor?” I ask, nearly spitting out my coffee. Mr. Monroe watches me, his brow creased. I didn’t know Mrs. J had a brain tumor. When was this? Why didn’t I know? “Is she okay?”

  “She’s fine now. You telling me you didn’t know?”

  I shake my head. I had no idea. I’d have been here for Georgia Ann if I had known. I’d have come back sooner. Called. I’d have done something. “No, I’m sorry. I didn’t.”

  “I reckon Kerri Ann didn’t mention it, what with the divorce and all. It wasn’t too long after you left we found out.” Mr. Monroe shakes his head as he pulls items out of the cabinets. “That was a tough year for everyone.”

  It was.

  Maybe I’m not the only one who doesn’t recognize my life anymore.

  Mr. Monroe places a hand on my shoulder. “It’s all in the past, Beau. Best thing we can do is move forward and make some waffles.”

  “Yes, sir,” I say.

  It’s no wonder Georgia Ann is so pissed at me. I knew I’d abandoned her once, but twice is worse.

  An hour later, we’ve finished breakfast and Mrs. J comes downstairs. “There’s a problem.” We all look up from the table, and she looks stressed out. “Thomas Baker has rented all the chairs!”

  “What’s that?” Mr. Monroe sighs.

  Georgia Ann is staring at her mom, jaw dropped.

  Mrs. J moves down the stairs. “Mrs. Stanguard specifically requested these chairs for the bridal shower.” She rushes over and thrusts onto the table a picture of a white iron chair with a curvy back. It looks uncomfortable. “Thomas Baker took them. The Country Club can no longer rent them out to me because Thomas Baker took them for some party! They only have this.” She puts down another picture. A white iron chair with a curvy back. It also looks uncomfortable. “What am I supposed to do? This is horrible.”

  “Momma, it’ll be okay,” Georgia Ann says.

  Mr. Monroe says nothing and I just stare at them. “They look like the same chair to me.”

  That was the wrong thing to say. Her face turns four shades of red and her eyes narrow in on me. What have I done? I glance toward Georgia Ann, who smirks at me and looks down.

  “They most certainly are not the same chair!” Mrs. J points to the picture. “Look at the back of this one: these are vines. This one, the proper one, these are roses, and the back of the chair is at least an inch higher.”

  It’s probably better for me to say nothing right about now.

  “What can I do about it, Jessamyn?” Mr. Monroe asks.

  “Go get the chairs from Thomas Baker.”

  He shakes his head. “I will not.”

  “He doesn’t need them nearly as much as I do.”

  “You’re right. He probably rented a hundred chairs for no reason besides spite,” Mr. Monroe says.

  “You’re right. His wife has been resentful since that year her daughter was kicked out of the Belles,” she says.

  “Jessa.”

  Mrs. J huffs. “Fine.” She breathes and tries to gather herself. I can see it in how she holds her shoulders back, sweeps her hair away from her face.

  “It’s good to see you feeling better, sweetie. How were your waffles?” he asks, kissing her cheek.

  “Delicious,” she says. She follows him into the kitchen around the island. “We need someone with a truck to go to Palroy and pick up another set. Today.”

  “I can’t go to Palroy today,” Mr. Monroe says. “That’s a three-hour round trip, and I have plans with Dad and Hank later.”

  She sighs. “Well, I can’t do it. I don’t feel 100 percent yet. Besides, I couldn’t possibly get those chairs loaded by myself. I’m swamped between the shower next weekend and the Belles event.”

  “I’m sorry, Jessa. You’ll have to settle for the other chairs.”

  Her face starts to redden again. I just hear Ma in my head telling me to help out where I can…

  “I’ll do it,” I say. If Ma knew about Mrs. J, maybe this is why she wanted me around. “I have a truck. I can go to Palroy
and pick up the chairs.”

  Mrs. Monroe smiles. Her entire face has shifted from stress to joy. “Beau, that would be so sweet of you! You sure it’s no hassle?”

  “None at all.”

  She claps her hands together. Mrs. J is nothing but smiles now. “Great. I’ll get the info for you, and Georgia Ann can join you.”

  “Momma!”

  Mrs. J ignores her. “Her name is on the account so she can sign everything.” She hugs me. “Thank you, Beau. You are a hero who has just saved this bridal shower!”

  A hero who gets to hang out with Georgia Ann. I might as well have won the lottery.

  Georgia Ann’s sitting straighter than a piece of plywood for half the drive. She only talks when I ask her a question; she’s the picture of proper and it’s damn annoying. That is not the girl I knew. She never cared before about what was proper. She sure as hell didn’t keep her mouth shut when there was something to say. I know from all we’re not saying that there is a lot here.

  “You should’ve turned left there,” she says.

  “She speaks.”

  Georgia Ann tosses an annoyed look at me. “Turn around and make the right.”

  “We’re taking the back road. I can stay on this one and loop around the Hickam Bridge.”

  “Hickam Bridge is closed. There was a big storm in April and they’re still doing repairs. Everyone knows that,” she adds as her blue eyes pierce into mine. I make a quick U-turn.

  “I’m a little out of the loop,” I say.

  “You wouldn’t be if you lived here.”

  I grip the steering wheel. I think I liked quiet Georgia Ann better. “I had to leave, you know.”

  She waves me off. “I don’t want to do this right now.”

  “When do you want to do it, then?”

  Georgia Ann rolls her eyes and looks out the window. I half expect her to say something else, but she doesn’t. This is my chance. It could be the only one I will get after today. “I didn’t know what was happening. It was all really fast. Ma was there at my door, telling me she was leaving. I was just trying to keep up with what she was saying.”

  I glance over after a few seconds of silence, and she’s looking at me. At least I’ve got her attention.

  “I never meant to hurt you.”

  “You could’ve responded to me,” she says.

  “By the time I saw your texts, we were already gone. My head was spinning and Ma was in a bad place. She asked me not to tell anyone that Dad cheated on her, and honestly, I didn’t know how.”

  She nods slowly. “That’s why they got divorced?”

  “That’s why.” I pause. “What did you think happened?”

  She shrugs. “I was told your mom got a new job, that your parents wanted different things.”

  “Yeah, they did. Ma wanted him; Dad wanted other women.” True love only goes so far. That’s all there is to it. People can rarely back up what they say, especially when forever is involved. Hell, even when it’s not forever.

  “I’m sorry. That sucks. No wonder you don’t want to be with him.”

  I shrug it off. “He’s not worth talking about. I didn’t come back here for him.”

  “Why did you come back? I reckon you’ve been pretty happy in Atlanta.”

  I look over at her again. I want to tell her how much Atlanta sucks. I’ve been surviving, pretending for Ma. I want to unload it all on her and admit that I’m half here to see if we can be friends again, but I doubt she needs to know all that. I want to keep her talking, keep it light. I can’t scare her off. “It’s not as good as being home, though.”

  She smiles. “There’s no place like Culler.”

  “You used to hate it.”

  “I did not.”

  “You did. You always said you couldn’t wait to get out of here and see the world.”

  “I still want to. The world is huge, and there’s a lot more than South Carolina. But it’s home. I don’t know how anyone could hate Culler.”

  “It’s always so charming and weird.”

  “Very weird.”

  “Do they still do the Dog Grooming Contest?”

  She laughs and it’s a nice sound. “Every February. Nancy Purdue is the reigning champion six years running.”

  “Still Ace?”

  Georgia Ann shakes her head. “Ace passed away last year. Her new one is Sparkle, a little Pomshu.”

  “From Great Dane to Pomshu. That’s a switch.”

  “She likes to keep people on their toes.”

  “So do you,” I say.

  She smiles. “That’s where the fun is.”

  “Now that sounds like the girl I know.”

  Her smile is still there, but it sinks a little. “I’ve always been the girl you know.”

  “You sure? You’re a little more high strung now.”

  Georgia Ann slaps my arm. “I’m not high strung.”

  “What are you then?”

  “Dynamic,” she says, without a falter.

  “That you are,” I say. She’s smiling, her shoulders much looser and her eyes bright. That’s more like the girl I know, too. I get more now why she’s different, with her mom and all, but I don’t want her to be someone she’s not. She challenges me, challenges everyone, and Culler needs that. It needs to be shaken up now and again.

  I park the truck outside Party Decor Plus and Georgia Ann sighs. “It was nice of you to volunteer to come out here.”

  “Your momma was having a meltdown. It was the least I could do.”

  “She’s like that sometimes,” she says, her voice soft.

  “I’m sorry about your mom. I didn’t know about the tumor.”

  “It’s okay. She made it through.”

  “I wish I had been there for you,” I say.

  She nods. “Thanks. I’m good now. Let’s get this done.”

  Georgia Ann navigates us through the store and handles the cashier with determination. She’s an almost terrifying mini-version of her mom, not that I’d ever tell her that. Before I know it, we’re loading in the correct designed chairs to the bed of my truck.

  Georgia Ann’s on the phone with her mom, answering questions and repeating things to herself. I can’t really hear all of it, but her whole face changes and the stress is visible. When she hangs up, her shoulders are tense again.

  “That’s all of them, miss,” the staffer tells Georgia Ann.

  “Thank you very much.”

  He tips his hat. “Glad to be able to help you out. Tell Jessamyn it’s always a pleasure.” He doesn’t say it like it’s a pleasure.

  When he walks away, Georgia Ann sighs. “We should get back. Momma just gave me a list.”

  “She’s working you hard, huh?”

  Georgie scoffs. “Everything has to be perfect for the Montgomery wedding.”

  I sneak past her and open the door for her. She smiles slightly. “Less than two months. Then it’s over.”

  “If you make it ’til then.”

  “I can handle it. I’m a lot stronger than I look,” she says.

  “I have no doubts about that.”

  We’re halfway home and Georgia Ann hasn’t looked up from her phone. She’s emailing people and making calls for her mom. I had no idea that all this work went into a wedding.

  She’s mid-call when it hits me. The best way I can help out.

  I make a sudden right turn and Georgia Ann shoots me a look of death as the truck bounces down the rocky terrain. Her eyes are frantic. She mouths something to me while whoever’s on the other end talks. Yeah, this is gonna be good.

  “What are you doing?” she yells when she finally hangs up the phone.

  “Taking a detour.”

  “To where? I’m too young to die.”

  “I’m not gonna kill you.”

  “You might give me a heart attack.”

  “You’re too young for that too,” I retort.

  “Seriously, Beau. I have so much to do.”

  “You want to
do this first.”

  “Bearegard Hank Montgomery…”

  “Trust me. Give me this. If you hate it then we’ll leave.”

  She doesn’t respond for a few minutes. “How long will it take?”

  On that note I stop the truck. “We’re here now. Come on.”

  “What is this?”

  “Come on.” I jump out of the truck and open her door. She doesn’t budge. “The longer it takes you to get out of the truck, the longer it takes us to get home.”

  With a sigh she jumps down, and finally I win one. I take her hand and guide her. For a second my heart races, and I wonder if hers does the same. Then I remember Will, and I drop her hand like it’s fire.

  “I recognize this…”

  “We came here once,” I say.

  I want to look over my shoulder and study her face. To watch her remember it all, but I can’t do that and walk. I also don’t want to see what it would look like for her not to remember this.

  I lead her through the woods and over a bunch of rocks. The sounds of rushing water and chirping birds and cicadas fill my ears. It’s still all the same. This one moment trapped in time. Even though we’ve both moved on in many ways, the universe hasn’t.

  We’re standing at the bank of the river. The sun shines through willow tree branches dotting the water in brightness and making the blue shimmer. I look down at her, and to my surprise, she’s looking at me.

  “Beau.”

  “We were so close to it.”

  Something dances across her face, a play of emotions I can’t quite read. “It’s beautiful here.”

  She’d said that the first time we came. I’d just gotten my permit and I took my dad’s truck. I brought us here. We had our first make-out session around this river, one that got a little too carried away for both of us.

  “I thought you could use a moment for yourself,” I say. Even though I don’t want to, I step away from her and run up on the top of this large rock. In the trees, there’s still a rope swing. I untangle it and hold it out for her.

  “No way,” she says.

  I take off my shoes and my clothes until I’m standing in front of her in my boxers. Nervousness bubbles up in my stomach at being mostly naked around her. Her cheeks are flushed a little, too. “Let’s go.”