By the Book (27 page)

“Why?” Her shoulders slumped, brow wrinkling in confusion. “After all this?” Looking down at the box, she shrugged. Gestured to the room with a sweeping hand.

“He thought I resented him for not being you.”

“And you resent me for not being him.”

“No!”

She rolled her eyes in a perfectly executed expression of disbelief.

I sighed. “I’ve never stopped wanting you both.”

“So now what?”

Now I have neither
. Shrugging, I looked down at the ground.

“You still want us both, do you?”

“Yeah.” Still with a hanging head, I met her eyes. “Yeah, I do.”

“You still want
me
?”

“Of course!” Straightening, I grew indignant at her tonal suggestion I wasn’t being completely honest.

Oh, Hutton. You wouldn’t know open and honest if it smacked you in the face.

“If you still wanted me as much as you ever did”—Georgia patted the box as if it were a gift, not the packed-up detritus of a former life—“my things would still be in the other rooms, waiting for my return, not in the living room, waiting for my exit.”

“But you—” One glance was all it took to shut me up. She was right, she was right, she was right.

How I’d managed to move through life not seeing it, I couldn’t work out. But I hadn’t seen much recently.
Distracted
hadn’t been the word for it.
Blind
was closer to the truth.

“Look, Reece, don’t take this the wrong way.” She hoisted the box onto one hip. “I’m not saying this to build any bridges between us. It’s… Well, there’s no going back, put it that way, but is it really over? With him?”

The breath I drew rattled in my chest before I managed to force out a reluctant “Yes.”

“Well, I really am sorry.” Georgia bit her lip and looked as if her words were from the heart. “I don’t like to see you hurt.”

“Bit late for that,” I snapped. “And I know, I know. I brought it all on myself. I’ve only got myself to blame.”

“I wasn’t…” She groaned, and I didn’t know if it was with exertion, though the box was small, or emotional turmoil. “You’ve given up on me. And you’re pining for Daniel. It’s written all over your face. But I don’t hate you for it, Reece.”

“No, but you don’t love me either, do you?”

Georgia flinched as if struck by some invisible hand. “You have no idea how wrong you are,” she muttered, shaking her head. “Not a damn clue. I only love one person. Your problem…” Georgia cleared her throat and avoided my gaze, looking at the doorway she more than likely wanted to run through. “Your problem is, you love two and you’re not man enough to decide.”

The world held its breath, waiting for either of us to speak, but neither did. There was nothing more to say. Nothing more to do except for Georgia to leave.

And for me to watch her go.

Chapter Eighteen

“Reece?”

I nearly dropped the armful of hardbacks but caught them just in time. I’d know that voice anywhere.

“Aren’t you gonna turn around?”

I slotted the book I’d been reshelving into place and swallowed hard before turning on the spot. “Georgia.” The word came out as little more than a croak, and it was all the greeting I could manage.

“I hope you don’t mind me coming into your workplace like this.” She bit her lip, and I noticed she wore lip gloss, wondered if she was trying to impress me. Or someone else. Or just making herself look nice as she often wanted to do.

I rocked my weight back onto one leg, examined the other foot as if it held the secret to the universe. “That’s why it’s called a
public
library.” I looked at her again.
How can we be so awkward with each other? I’ve been inside you.

“Hmm. Yes. But we haven’t spoken since…”

“No.” It had been weeks.

“I assume you’re busy.”

I shrugged. “Kinda. Well, the usual. You know. It’s not too hectic. Not many people spend their Saturdays in a library unless they have business here.”

“Yes, well, you see—”

“How have you been?” I wanted to take a step closer, but words were all I had. Even though she’d come into my territory, I felt as if that last inch between us was too great a distance to cross.

Jesus, Reece. Words. Cross. You like to torture yourself, don’t you?

If I closed the gap, I’d be trespassing on something that wasn’t mine anymore.

“Fine.” She nodded, shrugged even as she held on to the shoulder strap of her handbag with both hands. Looking
not
fine. Oh, beautiful as always, but there was something different in her eyes now. Or something missing. “Well. Anyway.” She took a deep breath. “Can we talk? It won’t take long.” She looked over her shoulder and pointed at a sofa in a secluded corner. “What about over there?”

Huffing out a long breath, I shrugged my acquiescence. “Sure. Sure.” Glancing in the direction of the main General Lending desk, I added, “As long as we don’t take too much time.” I caught the furrow in her brow when I looked back. “Sorry. I don’t mean to sound like I’m rushing you, but libraries aren’t conducive to private conversations much of the time. They’re quiet, but not, you know.”

“Yes. I understand.” Georgia blinked rapidly, looked away from me, and walked over to the settee without looking back.

We sat, and I put the three hardbacks between us. Caught her eye. Moved them over to the other side of me.
Words as a barrier. How appropriate.

I cleared my throat, unable to bear the silence. Even a library shouldn’t be so deafeningly quiet, but Georgia’s presence bled the room of all white noise. “I miss you.”

“
Don’t
, Reece.”

“If I’m not supposed to say it, why are you here?”

She swallowed, craning her neck back as if there was a lump in her throat too large to deal with. “I just wanted to see…to say I don’t want there to be any bad feeling between us.”

“Are you seeing someone?” That had to be it. She was here to clear the air with me before going off to her new life. As if she needed my permission.

But how could I complain? I’d fucked another man. Then again, so had she. The
same
man.

“
No
.” Somehow she’d mastered the art of exclaiming, but under her breath. A talent acquired from dating a librarian, I supposed. “
No
. You thought I’d come in here just to show someone off and make you feel bad? Jesus, Reece, what kind of a woman do you think I am?”

Immediately ashamed of my suspicions, I lowered my gaze.

“I’ve been going out with friends, but just socializing. You know. Getting out. Nothing too outlandish. But anyway.” There was an invisible shrug to her tone as if she was shaking off the borderline accusation. “I don’t like to see you miserable.”

“Well, that’s just—” I shot her a glance, immediately lowered the volume of my voice. There was no one nearby, but it wouldn’t do to lose my temper. “That’s just something we’ll all have to live with.”

There was so much more I wanted to say. So much, like demanding to know why she had to show up now and disturb my emotional equilibrium. If she was out of my life, I wanted her to stay out. I didn’t want half of Georgia. I wanted all of her, and she’d never be able to live with the fact that it wasn’t her
alone
I wanted.

“I guess I just wanted to reassure myself you were doing okay.”

“Yeah, fucking marvelous,” I snapped, momentarily chastened by the wide-eyed look of hurt she gave me, but only momentarily. “Look, Georgia, I know I messed up. I know I threw away what we had.”

“No, Reece, you—”

“And if you’re trying to make me feel bad, then well done. You managed it. But you coming in here like this, it’s just…” I rolled my eyes, looked up at the ceiling, and the fluorescent strip lights made my eyes water. Yes, it was the lights. I blamed them. “It’s just not cool.”

“There were”—Georgia fiddled with her handbag in her lap, undoing and refastening the clasp—“a few things to clear up.”

“What, you couldn’t call instead?”

“I didn’t realize my presence was so abhorrent,” she snapped, making no attempt this time to mask the hostility.

But she wasn’t the only one bruised. Whatever part of me that hurt right now had numbed until she’d walked back in here and kicked it back into pain.

“It’s not.” Unable to stop myself, I reached for her knee, gave it a squeeze, and she flinched under me. “Come back.”

“No.” She flinched again, more violently this time, and I lifted my hand away. “Stop it. I can’t. You’re only hanging on to me because I’m familiar. These things run their course. Maybe that’s why we both brought in thirds. I don’t know. I still love you, but…”

Yeah, but
. I inhaled slowly. Breathed out just as slowly. God alone knew how I was going to get through the rest of my day at work. Whatever emotions her visit had churned up, I didn’t need to be feeling them, now or ever.

Georgia sniffed, blew her nose on a tissue she must have had on hand for just this purpose, and some small, malicious, selfish, hateful part of me was glad she was as upset as I. She stood, and it was my turn to flinch. “I left your… There’s…at the front desk. Reception, I mean.”

“What, did I leave some CDs at your place or something?” She was welcome to them. I didn’t want anything from Georgia except Georgia.

She took a shuddering breath. Ah. The unspoken farewell. She’d come in to give me one final kick-in-the-nuts good-bye and couldn’t even utter the word.

Well, I was glad, because I didn’t need to hear it. Watching her walk away was bad enough, and here she was doing it again. Without looking back. And this time, I didn’t follow.

I picked up the books, resigned myself to an afternoon’s busywork. Nothing too taxing and it’d keep me occupied. My body at least; I wasn’t too sure about my mind. It raced. Even as I slotted the books back onto the shelves, it raced.

Going back to the returns trolley, I remembered what she’d said about leaving my things at reception. Wondered what had got mixed up in her belongings. Hadn’t noticed anything of mine going missing.

“Reece?” Tom began. “You okay?”

“Hmm?” One hand on the returns trolley, I frowned, craned my neck to get a better view of the reception desk outside in the main foyer. “Yeah, yeah.”

“Was that Georgia who just came in? She left pretty sharpish.”

“She did. Listen, I’m gonna be a minute. I need to speak to Cheryl.”

“Sure.” Tom shrugged as I left him behind, headed for reception, and leaned against the desk.

“Hey, Cheryl.”

She was just hanging up the phone.

“Is there a bag or a box here for me? Georgia was just in, and she said she left me—”

She pointed with the pen she held in her right hand, nodded at some point in the distance behind me, over by the staircase.

Breath caught in my throat and time slowed down as I turned, knowing before I knew.

I knew who was sitting at one of the chessboard tables left out for members of the public, running his hands through his already tousled hair, silently cursing at his laptop.

“What?” I looked back at Cheryl, frowning, and she shrugged, gave a watery smile.

I was almost scared to look back at Daniel in case he wasn’t there anymore, but he was no illusion. His back was to me, so I drank him in without being scrutinized in return.

There was the carefully cultivated bed head, the shoulders under the muscle-tight T-shirt, the leather jacket flung over the back of the chair. The laptop open at his word processing program with its taunting cursor but, as I was able to make out, not a totally blank page.
Good old Daniel. Never did get writer’s block.

But God alone knew, though the words came for
him
, I was mystified as to what to say now.

He shot a glance over his shoulder, stared right at me as if he’d known I was there, and I gasped.
Well
? he seemed to ask.
What now?

So this is it
. I thought of Georgia and the blessing inherent in her leaving something that belonged to me at reception.
Jesus Christ, Georgia, you…

Blinking, I took a tentative step nearer.

Daniel leaned an elbow on the desk, rested his chin on his palm, and let his gaze follow me across the foyer as I neared him.

Saying nothing, I looked at the chair opposite him, then at Daniel himself. I took his raised brows, his widening eyes as an invitation to sit. Even when in the chair, I needed to steady myself with a hand on the table.

“So.” Even one word was better than nothing, but it still left me needing to clear my throat. Tapping my fingers, I looked down at my hand and back up at him, into his eyes. “There you are.”

“Yes.” He lowered the hand he’d held to his face, slid the other across the table, and stopped it an inch from mine. One finger tap-tap-tapped on the polished wood like a metronomic countdown. And just before it got down to zero and his hand made contact, he said, “Here I am.”

Scarlett Parrish

Scarlett Parrish lives in the U.K. in the small corner of her flat not currently overrun by books. She can often be found drooling over James Purefoy or searching for the perfect chocolate bar. She believes most fleshpeoples (except James) are evil and much prefers the characters in her head. On the occasions she ventures out, Scarlett is always accompanied by her BONER—
B
lack
O
mnipresent
N
otebook of
E
rotic
R
omance. One never knows when inspiration will strike. Sometimes she’ll visit the cinema, alone but for the aforementioned characters. Another favourite pastime is listening to 30 Seconds to Mars and thinking about Shannon Leto’s tattoos. A chronic insomniac, she writes most of her dirty books in the middle of the night and loves to keep her e-reader stocked with erotic romance to occupy her down time.