Nothing Between Us (35 page)

Leesha buzzed around Georgia’s house with a notepad in her hands and a look of consternation on her face. “Is this TV stand yours?”

“No, it was here when I moved in,” Georgia said from her spot on the couch.

Leesha checked off something on her notepad and then pulled a roll of stickers from her pocket. She tagged the TV stand with a blue dot, which Georgia assumed meant
do not pack
for the movers.

“If you give me that roll of stickers, I can help, you know.”

“I’ve got it.”

Georgia sighed in frustration. Leesha had insisted that Georgia relax, that she’d take care of everything, but it was driving Georgia a little crazy to be forced into sitting still.

A week had gone by since she’d shot Phillip in Colby’s bedroom. The scene still played over in her head every night when she tried to go to sleep. But she tried to chase away the nightmares by reminding herself that Phillip couldn’t hurt her or anyone else anymore. She was free. Finally.

But she’d killed a man to get there. Part of that stained her conscience, even though she knew he was a murderer and would’ve killed her or one of the guys without a bit of remorse. She didn’t think any normal person could take someone else’s life and not be affected by that. And it seemed people were giving her space or treating her with kid gloves because of it. Leesha, her parents when they flew in to see Georgia the day after, and the boys across the way.

She’d spent a long night in the police station with Colby and Keats after everything had happened. They’d gone through endless interviews while the cops tried to put together exactly what had happened. She’d never been offered coffee so much in her life. It was as if that were all anyone could come up with to do for her.
More coffee, hon?

All the while the cops were offering it to her, though, she knew they were trying to determine if she’d killed Phillip in cold blood, especially when they’d realized she, Colby, and Keats were all in some sort of relationship. She could already see the headlines in her head:
In an erotic-crazed night, three people took out a scorned lover in an elaborate plan.

But when the local cops talked to the police in Chicago, the focus had shifted. Phillip hadn’t been so careful on his way out of town since he hadn’t planned to return. He’d purchased the gun illegally from a police informant. And yesterday, he’d emptied out his savings and had bought a used car with cash.

When the locals searched Phillip’s vehicle, things became even clearer. He had a notebook detailing all of Georgia’s activity from back when she was in Chicago through now. The most recent entries had stopped using her name and referred to her as
the whore
or
the ungrateful bitch
. Colby was labeled as
the cocksucker
. And beneath the liner of the car’s trunk was a bag of cash and two fake passports—one with Georgia’s picture on it. All evidence pointed in one direction. Phillip had come down to kidnap Georgia and escape across the border. The police concluded that it was enough to show that Georgia had acted in self-defense. Plus, based on Keats’s and Colby’s separate statements, it was clear Phillip had forced his way into Colby’s home, which in Texas gave the occupants the right to use deadly force.

They’d released all three of them around lunchtime the next day.

She’d been numb and shell-shocked still. And the guys had seemed to sense that she didn’t want to talk about it. When they’d gotten into the back of the cop car for the ride home, Colby had put his arm gingerly around her, offering support if she wanted it, and he’d whispered, “You saved all of our lives. I’ve never seen anyone be so brave.”

Keats had taken her other hand and laced his fingers with hers. “I’m sorry we let you down and didn’t protect you like we promised.”

She’d shaken her head, wanting to tell them that they hadn’t let her down, that the very reason she hadn’t collapsed into a panic when Phillip had surprised her in her garage when she’d gotten home from running errands was that they’d helped her find her strength again. But she couldn’t get the words out.

“He’s gone now, George,” Keats said softly. “You’re free of him.”

She’d finally cried then, sagging into Colby’s shoulder and squeezing Keats’s hand tight.

When they’d arrived at her house, she’d asked them to come in with her. She hadn’t wanted them facing the crime scene at Colby’s house and . . . she’d needed them there with her. Maybe they’d all needed each other. They’d gone quietly upstairs, showered until the hot water ran cold, and crawled into bed, simply holding each other until sleep finally overtook them.

But the following day had been chaos. The cops had wanted to talk to everyone again to fill in details. Leesha had called to say she was flying in with Georgia’s parents. And all the wheels had started turning without Georgia.

Colby and Keats had left with the promise that they would all talk soon. But with everyone visiting and so much happening, they hadn’t gotten the chance to do more than check in by phone.

But she’d seen carpets being pulled out and furniture being removed and replaced over at Colby’s. She didn’t blame him for not wasting any time removing memories of what had happened there. But part of her had seen it as erasing it all. The bedroom that she’d looked in so many times would be different now. And the people on the other side of the window had been changed in ways that could never be undone. She didn’t know where she fit anymore—if she fit at all.

Leesha certainly had her own ideas. She’d gone into get-Georgia-back-to-Chicago mode as soon as she’d arrived. And Georgia hadn’t protested. Phillip was gone. Her old life was waiting there for her in Chicago. Her house. Her friends. All the things that had once been so familiar and comfortable. But she couldn’t find it in herself to get excited about it.

“I was thinking maybe we should do Christmas dinner at a restaurant this year,” Leesha said, breaking Georgia from her ruminating. “I talked to your mom, and we’re all so excited to get you back home. But no one wants the stress of cooking this year. Not with all that’s going on. I’ve heard that restaurant in the Trump Hotel has a great Christmas menu.”

“That’s fine,” Georgia said, picking a loose thread off the couch.

Leesha paused what she was doing and turned around, hand on her hip, dip in her brow. “What’s wrong? You sound like I suggested a meal of cat eyeballs.”

“Sorry. It’s just hard for me to think about Christmas . . . it’s hard for me to think about Chicago.”

Leesha stared at her for a moment longer, then sighed. She tossed her notepad onto the coffee table and sat in the chair across from Georgia. “Is this about the neighbors?”

Georgia didn’t feel like having this conversation right now.

Leesha shook her head. “Oh, honey, you got attached, didn’t you?”

“Please don’t patronize me,” she said, irritated at her friend’s
I-told-you-so
tone.

Leesha flicked her dreads away from her face, a dead giveaway that she was trying to hold on to her patience. “I’m not patronizing you, Georgia. I’ve met the guys you got involved with. I get it. They’re good-looking and seem like nice enough men. But you can’t think to really stay here and be in a relationship with two people. I mean, I’m not one to judge what people like to do for fun. And I can see how with everything you’ve been through you needed a wild escape. But I
know
you.” She leaned forward in the chair. “Before everything went wrong with Phillip, when you dated men, you dated with the purpose of finding a partner—a husband. We both date with that in mind. We’re planners. You want to get married, have a family, do all those milestones we pin on that timeline in our heads. And neither of us is getting any younger. Hopping in bed with two guys is fine when you’re in your twenties and experimenting, but we’re grown-ups now. Come on, you know some three-way isn’t a sustainable relationship. Staying here longer is just going to mean wasting more time and getting your heart broken anyway. You’ve had enough heartbreak, honey. I don’t want to see you go through more.”

Georgia released a long breath, letting go of the retort that had jumped to her lips. She knew that Leesha had nothing but Georgia’s best interests at heart. And her friend wasn’t saying things that were untrue. Georgia
had
always wanted that neatly planned-out life. She liked the idea of having a relationship like her parents—a long-lasting love and close family. She’d felt safe and loved growing up, and she wanted to create that in her own life. But now when she tried to picture going about finding that, she couldn’t stop thinking about the two men next door.

“Maybe I just need some time to clear my head,” she said lamely.

Leesha’s face brightened with a smile. “Exactly. That’s the best medicine. We’ll get you back home and on your feet, and you’ll see how everything falls back into place.” She stood and came over to hug her. “God, I’ve missed you, girl.”

Georgia swallowed past the knot in her throat and hugged her friend back. She’d missed Leesha, too. But Georgia had a feeling when she got back to Chicago she’d miss something else much more.

Georgia’s phone buzzed from its spot on the coffee table. Leesha straightened and smiled. “Back to work for me.”

Georgia reached for the phone and hit the button to read the text message. One word appeared on the screen:
Window?

Her heart leapt. She bit her lip and glanced over at Leesha, but her friend was already back to tagging and marking furniture. Georgia typed back
OK
and excused herself on the pretense of getting something from her bedroom. Her mind was still whirling about what to do, and she dreaded having to say good-bye to Colby and Keats in a few days, but she couldn’t hide from facing them any longer.

When Georgia walked into the guest bedroom, it was a little like stepping back in time. But like all the times before, her heart was pounding and her palms were damp. She didn’t know what she wanted to see on the other side of that curtain. Her head was spinning with so much right now. But she knew, if nothing else, she couldn’t walk away from this invitation.

She moved over to the window and pulled back the curtain. The sun was almost down, and the lights in Colby’s bedroom were glowing. On the other side of the glass, two men stood, waiting for her. They seemed so far away now.

She lifted her phone, expecting it to ring. But instead Colby bent down and came back up with what looked to be big squares of poster board. Keats took the one from the top and held it against the glass.

TOP 10 REASONS CHICAGO SUCKS

Keats dropped the sign and put up another one. Georgia leaned closer to the window, her lips curling upward.

10. IT’S FUCKING COLD

9. PUTTING TOMATOES ON HOT DOGS IS
WRONG

She laughed, and Colby handed Keats another sign.

8. NO ONE SAYS “Y’ALL” OR CALLS YOU SUGAR

7. TWO BASEBALL TEAMS—HOW TO DECIDE???

6. THEY DON’T DEEP-FRY EVERYTHING—A TRAGEDY

Georgia smiled wider. Leave it to those two to try to make her laugh right now when she needed it most. Another sign went up.

5. WE WANT YOU TO BE HAPPY

4. AND WE WON’T PRESSURE YOU

She held her breath. Keats dropped the sign, and Colby stepped next to him. They both lifted their white poster boards and pressed them against the glass.

3. BUT THE TWO MEN

2. WHO LOVE YOU

1. ARE HERE.

She stared at the big block lettering, the words blurring when her eyes filled with tears. She pressed her hand to the glass. They did the same.

And for the first time in a week, she didn’t feel numb at all.

She looked at their splayed hands, imagined those fingers linked, hands piled on top of each other. Bodies tangled in bed. Mornings full of laughter and teasing, stolen kisses, and naughty comments. Nights filled with warmth.

All along, she’d never really let herself think past getting back to Chicago. She wouldn’t allow her mind to go there. Any time she’d felt those feelings developing for these two men, she’d drawn it back in—like a border collie herding escapee sheep back into their pen. Don’t get attached, don’t get attached. It had become her mantra. But thinking about the two of them now—Colby with his kind eyes and solid presence, Keats with his cocky humor and giving heart—she knew she hadn’t kept it in check. Those sheep were hopping around in the wild with giddy feelings—hope, affection . . . love. Especially when the guys looked at her like they did. Like they’d love her forever if she’d let them.

They’d become so much more than the silly
For a Good Time Call
label she’d put in her phone. The thought of leaving them had been tearing her up for weeks. But she still hadn’t let herself consider the possibility of staying. Phillip had been such a looming threat overshadowing every thought of the future.

And beyond that, all this time she’d been looking at returning to her life in Chicago like the brass ring. The sign that she was A-OK again, fixed. But now it felt like an empty victory. When she imagined going back, she didn’t get excited about that fast-paced city life she used to lead. She felt . . . nothing.

So what would happen if she stayed here?

The question had been knocking around in her head the last few days like a Ping-Pong ball gaining momentum.

Was Leesha wrong? Could Georgia build a long-term relationship with Colby and Keats? Let this wonderfully strange, just-for-fun arrangement become something else? Become real and lasting?

The practical part of her brain always said no. How would three people even go about that? But another part of her rebelled against that. And when Leesha had outlined all the reasons why it wasn’t a good idea, Georgia had wanted to go into full debate mode. Who cared if the relationship wouldn’t fit into the mold of what everyone expected her to do? Her mother, who had taught women’s studies at Northwestern since Georgia was a kid, had always raised her to not give in to gender expectations, to make her own way. She could still remember the talks her mother had given her through her teen years.
If you don’t want to get married, don’t. A woman doesn’t need a man to have a life. If you want kids, have them. If you don’t, don’t let anyone make you feel guilty about it. You find your own road to happiness, my girl. No one else can tell you what’s right for you.