Page 47 of Book Boyfriends
“I, for one, never thought this charade would work.Jim?As if a duke is named Jim? How ludicrous,” Lord James drawls.
“This would work? Duke? Dating Georgia? What in the H E double-hockey-sticks is going on?” Hope’s high-pitched questions cause me to lower my hands and face her. “Kitchen, now.”
Nodding, I rise, lightly swat the back of Jackson’s head, and follow her into the house. That dull ache behind my eyeshas grown to a steady throb. This is all so messy. It’s like I’m Hurricane Georgia. Thanks to the toss of a “lucky” penny into a fountain, I’m leaving a path of destruction everywhere. At this moment, I wonder how lucky that stupid penny is.
“Georgia Angelica Lane!” Hope whirls to me the moment we enter the kitchen. “What’s happening? Who are those men? Did Jackson hire three men to pretend to be fictional characters and date you?”
“No!” I step back, my butt coming into contact with the small breakfast table. “Jackson didn’t hire escorts to date me and pretend to be fictional characters.”
“Georgia,did you?” Brow scrunched, she cocks her head. “Wait, how did you find escorts that resemble your book characters? Is there an app for that? Please tell me you did your research to vet them.”
“They’re not escorts.” I rub at my temples.
“What’s happening? Who are these men?” Her eyes widen. “Oh my god, are you okay? Are they stalker fanboys who think they are your characters? Are you and Jackson being held hostage? Blink twice if you need me to?—”
Laughter bubbles out of me, its intensity racking through me. Leave it to Hope to go from my trio being hired escorts to stalking fanboys in two point five seconds.
“Should I call Rem?”
“No!” My laughter dies. “Don’t call Rem, please.”
“If you’re in trouble?—”
“I’m not in trouble… Well, not that kind of trouble.” I rub the center of my forehead, the throb intensifying.
My adherence to a gluten free diet combats my celiacs, but too much stress causes migraine flare-ups. The seeds of one sprouting with the pulsating ache, the queasy sensation swirling in my belly, and fuzziness, which wasn’t just my reaction to Lord James in his suit.
I look up, meeting her perplexed gaze. “What I’m about to tell you is ridiculous and unbelievable, but it’s true, and you can’t tell Rem. Please.”
“Are you sure you’re not in trouble trouble?”
I nod, that action causing a twinge behind my eyes.
She looks between her wedding ring and me. “Okay.”
“You better sit down.” I pull out one of the chairs from the table.
This is the second time this story has spilled out of me. Like Jackson, Hope believes me. Even if her face scrunches with disbelief, and her “Oh my word’s” fill the kitchen. Only the story I share with Hope contains the tidbits about Davis/Kenny. I’m not sure why I include him in the tale, because he’s not part of this. Even if there’s still a flutter in my chest at his thoughtful gift. Despite the pull to him, I need to stay away. No good will come from further interaction with him.
“Why go on a date with these three guys when you just had a do-over date with Davis?”
“It wasn’t a do-over date. It was just a grandson showing appreciation,” I say, my flimsy protest doesn’t convince even me.
Swatting at the air, she goes on, “Whatever it was, it’s clear there are sparks. Why not pursue that?”
“Because Davis wasn’t poofed into my life by a possibly magic fountain at the facility where I work. Lars, Lord James, and Owen were, and I owe them. Whether it’s with me or not, I owe them happy endings.”
“You don’t owe anybody anything. You didn’t wish for them to be transported here. You wished to know what your happy ending is and how to find it.”
“That doesn’t matter. They’re still here. I stole the happy endings I wrote for them.”
That knowledge aches within me. I know all too well the pain of losing the tomorrow you hoped for. Even if the guys wereripped away from their stories during their third-act breakup, I know what they stand to lose. I can’t take that from them.
She motions at me. “What if Doc’s accident was the fountain’s way of bringing Davis back into your life? A second chance for a happy ending? One with Davis?”
“You’re reaching, woman,” I groan. “If that was true, then why are Lord James, Lars, and Owen still here?”
“I don’t know.” Her expression falls. “Are you attracted to them? I mean, they’re all gorgeous, but do you feel the spark? Even when you hated Davis, you still mentioned his sexy nerd aesthetic.”
