Page 66 of Beautiful Desire
“No, of course not,” I scoff, the words like chalk on my tongue.
“Okay, Georgia.” Charley snorts. “You may be able to lie to yourself, but you sure as hell aren’t fooling me.”
My head snaps in her direction, mouth falling open, and I rear back like she physically slapped me. “Charley…”
“I’m sorry, that came out harsher than I intended,” she says softly, pushing her sunglasses to the top of her head. Her eyes are puffy from crying, but she holds my gaze as she continues. “All I’m saying is, yeah, maybe when things with Fletcher started, it was just casual, convenient sex, and nothing more, but as yourbest friend, who probably knows you better than you know yourself sometimes, it hasso obviouslybecome more than that.”
My throat tightens, and it’s right there on the tip of my tongue to tell her how wrong she is, to say, yet again, that I feel nothing more than a sexual attraction toward Fletcher. Andgod, I want to say it, but more than that, I desperately want to mean it because the alternative is terrifying.
“And trust me, Georg,” she goes on, reaching over and taking my hand in hers. “I get why you’re fighting it, why you’re pretending nothing has changed, and why you are so insistent that you don’t have feelings for him.”
I grit my teeth, willing the pressure behind my eyes to go away.
“I know you’ve been hurt before, and I know there are impenetrable wrought-iron gates surrounding your heart to ensure nobody can ever hurt you again, but I fear you’re just going to end up hurting yourself in the long run by never letting yourselffeelanything real.”
Swallowing around the bolder-sized lump in my throat, I exhale a sharp breath through my nose. Sure, she might be right. I could end up hurting myself, but at least I’d only have me to blame. I can live with that, but what I can’t live with is giving another person all the tools to destroy me.
Not again.
“You’re wrong, Char,” I lie through my teeth, the words bitter on my tongue. “I love you for wanting to look out for me, but you’re wrong. When Fletcher returns to his life, and I continue with mine, I’ll be fine.” My voice cracks, and I hate it. “Yeah, I have fun with him and the sex is great, but it’s nothing more than that, and it never will be.” We both know I’m lying; I can see it in the way she’s looking at me, but as my vision blurs, I’m thankful for the sunglasses hiding that truth from her. “Besides, Fletcher is about to graduate and start his career. He has his whole life ahead of him, and that life is in Charleston. So, even if I did have feelings for him, it wouldn’t matter. I would never ask him to give up his life and his career, because I would never want somebody to ask me to give up mine.”
“Okay, but babe, that is notjustyour decision to make,” she says. “You can’t decide what’s best forhisfuture.” Before I even have a chance to formulate a response, Charley’s phone dings. Pulling it out, her eyes scan the screen before she sighs. “I don’t want to leave the conversation like this, but I have to get back to the hospital.”
“Is your dad okay?”
She nods. “Yeah, he’s fine, but my mom has an appointment she can’t reschedule, and we don’t want him to be alone.”
“Of course, go.” Standing up, I ask, “Want me to come with you?”
“No, I’m good, but thank you.”
I pull her in for a hug once we get back to our cars. “Call me if you need anything. I mean it. Love you”
“I will. Love you too, Georg.”
I have to stop by the bakery real quick, but my mind is a mess on the drive back to my house. Everything Charley said to me is playing on repeat, and I can’t shake it. Even if she’s right about me having feelings for him, it doesn’t change the fact that this would never work. My life is in Blossom Beach, Fletcher’s life isin Charleston, and I don’t see that changing. For some reason, unbeknownst to me, Fletcher’s dream is to join his father in his business, and he deserves to have that. He deserves the chance to live the life he’s always wanted, and that life isn’t here.
It’s for the best that we end this once he graduates.
Charley’s right, though… We have to have that discussion, so as I pull into the driveway beside his car, I decide to do just that. We can clarify what this is, we can agree on it, and then we can enjoy the rest of the time he’s here for what it is without it looming over our heads. It doesn’t have to be some big, daunting conversation. It’ll be fine… Easy, even, I’m sure.
Walking into the house, I kick off my shoes as Fletcher comes around the corner, beer in hand and a wide grin on his face as he meets my gaze. “Peach! I’m making steak.”
Following him into the kitchen, my brows furrow. “You are?”
“Yup.” He chuckles. “I’ve got ’em ready to go in the fridge. What’s that?” he asks, gesturing to the white box in my hand.
“It’s for you.” Opening the lid, I show him and say, “I had Grace make this for you.”
Taking in the cake that has ‘Congratulations’ written on top with a mortarboard beside it, he flicks his gaze up to meet mine. “That’s sweet,” he says softly. “Thank you. But we don’t know if I passed yet.”
“You did,” I say with confidence. “I know you did.”
“What would you have done if I told you I thought I tanked it?”
“Not picked up the cake.” I shrug, breathing out a chuckle.
Fletcher sets the cake on the counter, closing the lid, before leaning in and pressing a kiss to my lips. “Are you hungry now, or wanna wait?”
