Page 46 of Georgia: Britain's Story: Part 1
And my only guess is she was checking the Nest garage cam and doorbell cam. Which is how she knew to show up the morning after we kissed to try and get you to think the worst of me. The office has access to those feeds, so if I’m out of town, they can help the tenant if needed. Again, I failed to have the passwords changed after we let Tori go. It’s all been my fault and my mistakes that led to this…I’m sorry.” She just nods in understanding, but I still feel awful.
I wouldn’t have even known if Max and Niko hadn’t decided to snoop. I want to be pissed at them, but at the same time, that’s just shit little brothers do. And the end result is something I wanted anyways. I start moving the suitcases upstairs, but before I can maneuver them into the guest bedroom, she stops me.
“Do you want me to stay with you, in your room?” She asks so quietly, I forget that she can be really shy. It’s like getting a glimpse of that 18-year-old girl all over again.
I give her my answer in a firm tone, I hope it leaves nothing to doubt, “Yes.”
“Okay, then can you put the blue suitcase in your room and the black one with Georgia’s box?”Fuck, yes. I give her my best smile, taking the black suitcase down the hall and sliding it next to the U-Haul box. I come back to her and her suitcase, grabbing the handle in one hand and her hand in the other. I push the door open to the primary suite.
“I don’t know what I was expecting, but this was not it,” she says. Her eyes are big and she’s looking over the space. It doesn’t look like a typical bachelor’s room, I wanted it to look like a home, a space built for partners even though I’ve been perpetually single. I hoped some Kevin Costner magic would work.If you build it, she will come. I laugh to myself,no pun intended.
There’s a huge stone fireplace dividing the ensuite from the bedroom and there’s two oversized lounge chairs set up in front of it. The bed is a four-poster from Noir, and the bedding is all neutral-toned linen. The bedding matches the window treatments, which I doubled up, blackout curtains over blackout shades, all in Belgian linen. I hope she likes it.
“This is beautiful Liam. I mean, it’s like straight out ofRH Ski House, but better.” I laugh at her comment. I appreciate that she’s at least interested in design, because I eat, breathe, sleep it. Well I did until she showed up. Now all I want to do is eat, breathe, sleep Britain.
“I’ll give you some time to unpack and get settled in. Just come back downstairs when you’re ready, okay?” She nods in affirmation, “But um, couple things: One, please don’t change out of that dress yet, and two, where’s your cherry bag?” She blushes instantly, pulling it out of her tote bag. I take it from her hand, unzipping it and pulling out a handful of condoms, then I put the bag on my nightstand. She’s just watching me. As I head towards the door, I turn around and give her a wink, “for the kitchen,” and she goes beet red. I fucking love it.
SEVENTEEN
Britain
When I come downstairs from doing a quick unpacking, just toiletries and basic clothing, Liam is in the great room. He has a rocks glass in hand and it looks like another glass prepped for me on the coffee table. He smiles at me as I approach, setting his glass down beside mine.
“Hi,” I say as I round the large, slipcovered sofa.
“Come here,” he says, in his low commanding voice, the one that gives me chills. He pats the top of his leg, making me laugh a little and sending heat down my core. I obey, taking a seat on his leg and wrapping one arm around his neck to hold me up. He gives me a kiss at my temple, and whispers “I’m so glad you came, Bambi.” I think it’s a play on words, from the song we danced to, but I also think he’s glad I came here, with him.
“Me, too,” I whisper back.
“What do you want to do tonight?”
“Well, what are my options?”
“We could watch a movie, or we could talk, or build a fire outside, or play a game?”
“Hmm,” I pretend to ponder, tapping a finger to my chin, “play a game, please?”
“K, get up,” he says as he pats my leg. I scooch over, off his leg and he heads to the built-in cabinet by the fireplace. He opens it, revealing games stacked on games.
I laugh, “Oh, you meant like a real game, a board game?”
He’s dead serious, “Yeah? What’s wrong with that?”
“Absolutely nothing, just surprised. There’s only two games I won’t play.”
“Names and reasons why, go.”
“Okay, first, chess because I don’t know how to play, and second, twister, because I’m still not wearing panties.”
He laughs. “Damn, there goes choice one and two.” He shoots me a wink. I get up off the couch to look at his selection. It’s extensive and, thanks to the girls, I’ve played most of them.
“Which is your favorite of the options left?” I ask. I forget that I don’t really know him that well. When we’re together, it feels so natural, easy, that I forget we haven’t been together for years.
“Hmmm,” he’s thinking it over. “Probably Sequence or Sorry.”
Too easy, love Sequence. “Sequence then?”
“You got it,” he pulls out the game from its spot and I notice they’re organized alphabetically. I giggle a bit. His life is so orderly, so perfect looking. His house is immaculate, it barely looks lived in.
