Page 57 of Bourbon Bliss
I needed to show George that I was right.
* * *
Two hours later,I was prepared with everything I needed. I’d researched twenty different celebrities—from athletes to actors—who’d been taken advantage of by agents, managers, and personal assistants. I’d sorted through their stories for the elements they had in common and charted them on several graphs. Visual aids were often helpful when making a point.
I was determined to show George why I had concerns about Andrea. And I had the data to back my position.
The knock at my door startled me. Who was here? I hadn’t called George to ask him to come over yet. I’d only just finished my research, the print outs still warm in my hand. The remnants of my carb-fest with the girls sat untouched on the coffee table of my living room. I hadn’t even cleaned up.
“June Bug,” George said through the door. “Will you answer, please?”
Invited or not, his timing was satisfactory. I tapped the edges of the printouts, shuffling them into a neat pile, and went to answer the door.
“Hello, George.”
He let out a breath and his shoulders relaxed. Was that relief in his expression?
“I need to talk to you.” He came in and grabbed my hand, enveloping it in his larger one.
I let him lead me inside. He didn’t seem to notice the mess in my living room. Just sank onto the couch and pulled me down next to him, still clasping my hand. I set the stack of papers in my lap.
“I came to apologize,” he said, meeting my gaze. His brown eyes were so clear. “I hurt your feelings earlier, and I’m sorry. You were concerned about me and I acted like I didn’t care. But I do. I care about you, and I care about your opinion. And I’m sorry I didn’t take what you were saying seriously.”
His apology was so unexpected, and so sincere, it took the wind right out of my sails. I stared into his eyes, my burning need to be right winking out like a spent match.
I was still concerned about Andrea. That hadn’t changed in the minute or so since he’d arrived. But maybe—just maybe—the facts weren’t the most important thing in this situation. The data wasn’t the point.
He was.
I pulled my hand back from his and grabbed the stack of papers as I stood. George watched as I walked over to the trash and tossed them in.
“I accept your apology,” I said, brushing my hands together. “And I apologize for my part in our dispute. I showed a lack of faith in your judgment. You’re an intelligent man. One I admire a great deal. I could have expressed my concerns in a manner that wasn’t so… harsh.”
“What was that you threw away?” he asked.
“I’d prepared documentation to prove my point.”
His mouth turned up in a smile. “Let me guess. Charts and graphs?”
“Yes. How did you know? You only saw the cover page.”
“You aren’t going to show me?” he asked.
“No.
He laughed and shook his head. “Come here.”
I joined him on the couch and he kissed me. A deep, slow kiss that had me thinking about what the girls had said regarding make-up sex. We weren’t there yet, but I got an inkling of what they’d meant. George and I made out on my couch, and it was incredibly satisfying.
18
June
In the weeks since the news about Callie Kendall had broken, most of Bootleg Springs had settled down about it. The balloons, signs, and streamers had all come down. Conversations and arguments that had once centered around the prevailing theories about her disappearance turned to other topics, although there was still a fair amount of boasting from those whose favorite theories had been the closest. Anyone who’d spouted theran off with a boynotion was especially smug.
I heard from my sister that the case files and what evidence there was had been boxed up and put in storage. She grumbled about the Hollis Corner police department being the ones with jurisdiction to look into the cult and the rest of Callie’s story. I could tell she didn’t like being kept in the dark about it.
People took down the missing persons posters. Some had been pinned to walls so long the paint was faded around them, leaving bright paper-sized rectangles behind.
