Page 33 of Georgia: Britain's Story: Part 1
December 19, 1994
Britain got cast as a sugar plum fairy in the winter recital. It’s not a speaking part or a singing part, thank heavens, but our girl was so excited. She hasn’t stopped talking about it since I picked her up from daycare. Wish you could come see it with me. I’ll take pictures.
It almost sounds like she was writing her entries to a person. Maybe she was, maybe she picked Grandma to write to. Of course, Grandma died before I was born, but I can see how writing to her like she’s still here could ease your grief. I open my phone to the mile-long grocery list and add a notebook to the bottom. Perhaps I could do the same? Maybe it would help me with Georgia, to connect with who she used to be and ease my grief.
I’m beginning to form a clear plan for the next six weeks. I’m going to read these journals and I’m going to write to Georgia. Well, try to. I hate writing so much, I actually failed English in college, but I’m going to try. I plop the steno pad back in the box and haul it out to my car.You’re coming with me.
It’s late afternoon when I pull back up to Liam’s house. The Porsche is overflowing with food and wine after a successful grocery run. I was able to catch up with the girls on the drive home, which reminds me I should probably check in with Jess, too. We have the type of relationship where we could talk every day or not talk for a month, but still pick right back up on a previous conversation like it was yesterday. She’s going to want to know the contents of the box, though, so I’ll call her once I get everything unloaded.
I pop the trunk and grab a few bags. As I turn around to head for the stairs. I’m stopped by a 6’2” silver fox.Shit.
“Agh, you startled me.”
He laughs, “I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to, promise. I, uh, texted you earlier.” He did, but it may have been shortly after my tear-fueled breakdown about me being the worst daughter in the world and I didn’t want to deal with it.
“I saw, sorry I haven’t responded. I just needed to take care of some things,” I say as I hold up the bags as proof.
“Right, okay. Just wanted to make sure you got it.” He pauses. His hand is cupping the back of his neck, he almost looks uncomfortable. “Need help unloading?” I don’t know why this is suddenly so awkward. Yesterday felt like we just clicked, but now there’s weirdness.
I’m just about to decline his help when he blurts out, “Tori isn’t, or ever was, my girlfriend. And I didn’t sleep with her last night, or this morning. I will admit I hooked up with her in the past, but that was a while ago and I regret it,deeply.” He pauses, and I’m just staring at him, flummoxed. “We let her go from Broken Ridge yesterday, and she’s not taking it very well. She broke into my house, and made a scene in an attempt to get back at me. I’m sorry you had to hear that, or see that, but I’m hoping it won’t be an issue ever again.”
“You don’t need to explain your life to me, Liam.”
“I don’t need to, but I want to. I’m hoping you won’t still think of me as a liar…and a bastard…and a prick.”
I laugh. “You talked to your mom?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you tell me she was your mom last night?”
He shrugs, “I didn’t want to make it weird. Like hey, I know this is our first date and all, but that’s my mom over there.”
“That was a date?” I ask, hoping it stings a bit, payback for the Tori incident.
“Yes.” That’s his entire answer, and his face looks grim.Affirmative hit.
“You’re right, totally would’ve killed the vibe.” I shoot him a small smile, and he takes a deep inhale, easing his stern look. “If you want to help, can you just take the cooler up to the top of the stairs for me?”
“Can do.” He says as he reaches around me, lifting it with ease.
Of course, he couldn’t help with just the cooler, so now we’ve been passing each other on the stairs wordlessly for the last ten minutes. I figured it would be weirder if I demanded he stop helping me than just accepting it. I do appreciate that he gave me the lowdown on what I heard and saw this morning, but I’m still wary of him.
Knowing he hooked up with Tori makes me feel some sort of way. First, she’s fucking bombshell hot. And while I may be attractive, even beautiful when I do my hair and makeup, no one,NO ONE, would ever accuse me of being a bombshell. I wore sweats and drank beer on our date last night, which felt fine at the time, but now I’m feeling super self conscious after seeing Tori in her silk blouse and leather skirt this morning.
Second, you’d have to be blind or daft not to see that she’s….a bit terrifying.Is that his type?Like why was he hooking up with her? Which brings me to three — I’m jealous.Ugh.
I grab the last of the bags from the passenger seat, and close the trunk. I decide to just wait at the bottom of the stairs for him to come back, so there’s no chance of him helping me unpack. He jogs down the stairs and goes to reach for the bags in my hand, but I stop him.
“Thanks, but I’ll get them. This is the last of it.” I give him a smile, hoping to not let this be any more weird than it needs to.
“Oh, okay. Are you sure you don’t want help unpacking all that stuff?”Yes, I’m sure I don’t want your help unpacking my tampons.
“No, thank you. I got it.”
He's put his hand at the back of his neck again, avoiding eye contact. I think he might actually be nervous, which makes zero sense to me. “Listen, Britain, I want to ask you out again, but I’m worried that if I do you’ll say no.”Yes, there’s usually a chance when you ask someone a yes or no question that they’ll say no. I’d say a 50% chance.“I’m definitely getting the hint to leave you alone. And I will, just know that I’m just a text or doorbell ring away, okay?”
I’m just standing there staring at him. I’m baffled because Idolike him, and he made me feel good last night. Not just with his kiss, but with his company, and I don’t know what to say right now. So I don’t say anything at all. He eventually just turns around and walks back to his house, and I hurry up the stairs. This is for the best. I was out of my mind thinking there could be something between us. He’s on a different level than me.Dating supermodels who wear 6-inch heels. And, I just got jealous over a previous hookup, so clearly I’m not capable of casual. And that’s all this could ever be, casual.
