Todd is the kind of guy who swoops in and makes you feel really special. Does all the right things: invites you to Thanksgiving with him and his family, flies you to a game or two, sends you flowers and makes sure that the vase is not only stuffed with all of your favorite blooms, but that the card is also on point. They always said the most perfect things.
In hindsight, I should have known his personal assistant was the one writing those cards.
Georgie puts an arm around me and puts down the iPad. “Sorry. I know he hurt you. He was a terrible boyfriend.”
“That word right there. ‘Boyfriend’. It’s not a term I’d use to describe what Todd was to me.”
Georgie narrows her eyes as she watches me. “Why’s that?”
“We never really labeled what we were, nor did we call ourselves boyfriend and girlfriend. It’s not like I can say my ex was a jerk. He’s someone I dated who left out the part that he was also dating a few other people at the same time.” Shrugging, I try to casually brush it off. But man, it still stings. “So, I can’t really call him a boyfriend. I think it’s fair to say I’ve never had one, Georgie.”
“Had one what?” she asks, pondering my words for a moment before her eyes widen. “Aboyfriend?”
I nod, feeling a warm flush spring to my cheeks along with a twist of discomfort, a tinge of anxiety, and a hint of anticipation all mixed together, creating a sensation that’s hard to ignore. It's as if my insides are momentarily out of sync, reminding me of the vulnerability and uncertainty that comes with thinking about this.
“There’s never been someone I’ve brought home to my family and introduced as my man,” I say, pushing past the fact I feel completely exposed and vulnerable right now. But it’s Georgie, so I know I’m safe here. “I’ve dated some guys and Todd was the closest I had gotten, not that he’s a winner. We started out and were casual but then he tricked me when he asked me to go to Thanksgiving with him, which gave me a feeling of inclusion. Sincerity, you know?”
“I’m still digesting the fact that you’re, what, twenty-eight years old and you’ve never had a real boyfriend?” She stands back, looking at me with admiration dancing in her eyes. “You’re a hottie—how have you stayed off the market?”
“Thanks, but I just never tried, I guess. I was busy in high school working for my family and, honestly, I couldn’t bebothered. I was hanging out in the kitchen watching my dad cook.”
Right then, an alarm goes off on my phone. Glancing at the screen, it’s my calendar reminding me that my dad’s probably outside waiting to pick me up since my car’s not back from the shop yet.
“We’ll have to table this riveting conversation for another day,” I say quickly, leaning over the counter and grabbing my purse from where it sits on a shelf underneath. “My shift is done and Dad is picking me up. I need to go over the dinner menu with him for that private meal I’m doing.”
“Fine.” Georgie cuts her eyes my way, wagging a finger. “This topic is not off the table. Yet. Operation Boyfriend needs a planning session.”
“No, it really doesn’t,” I say with a laugh, swinging open the front door and turning around as I hit the street to look at her one last time. “At least not here. I mean, where do you find a guy in a small town like Sweetkiss Creek?”
Georgie sticks her tongue out at me, but a second later, her eyes light up.
“Well, one just drove right into your path…”
I stop the door as it’s about to slam closed with my foot. Kicking it back open, I narrow my eyes and point a finger her way.
“No. No more hockey players.”
“Why not?” She is a petulant child. “You can’t say you’re scared of commitment. You have a turtle.”
“I have a turtle because it’s low commitment.” And Brad Pitt is very cool.
“Do you know how long turtles live for?” She throws her hands in the air. “They are the definition of commitment.”
Hearing the word sends a chill across my flesh. I fake-gag and roll my eyes. “No. No commitment and no dating.”
Georgie opens her mouth and I hold up a hand to stop her. “And no. Not even one coffee to get my feet wet. I’ve had my feet wet and was hit by a tsunami. No thank you.”
“I don’t get it,” Georgie says with a sigh, tossing a paper bag at my head. “You’re wasting your best years on a turtle.”
“I’m on hiatus because of Todd. And no more hockey players because I, like you, enjoy the game and I don’t need it ruined for me again.” Shaking my head, I stare at her. “Leave it alone, okay? I appreciate the sentiment, but my time will come when it’s supposed to.”
Disappointment washes over her features, but I stay strong. This is my love life we’re talking about. Or lack of one.
“Fine. But–”
“No buts.” Waving a hand in the air I spin around and go. “Bye.”
Scanning the street, I find my dad’s car pretty easily. He’s driven his baby, a ‘66 Ford Mustang convertible. As I make my way toward it, I say a silent prayer that Georgie will forget about our conversation for now and just let me be.
