I should fly back to Colorado instead of laying around like a loser at the Hyatt in Atlanta. Brekka’s got a huge list of possible deals I should be digging through.
I pull out my phone to text my pilot so I can tell him wheels up in an hour.
I find myself texting Brekka instead. SEND ME THE FILES VIA EMAIL. I’M GONNA BE IN ATLANTA A FEW MORE DAYS.
OF COURSE YOU ARE, she texts back.
IT’S NOT LIKE THAT. GEO DOESN’T WANT TO SEE ME ANY MORE. And I have a strange desire to order everything off the room service menu just so I can pick at it all.
WHAT DID YOU DO?
I almost drop my phone. What did I do? Whose side is she on? I DIDN’T DO ANYTHING.
MAYBE THAT’S THE PROBLEM. YOU JUST EXPECT HER TO FALL INTO YOUR LAP.
I wish Brekka was here so I could glare at her properly. Emojis aren’t the same.
Although, the thought of Geo in my lap isn’t a bad one. I shake my head. I DON’T EXPECT HER TO FALL IN MY LAP, BUT SHE DUMPED ME. BEFORE WE WERE EVEN TOGETHER. FOR NO REASON WHATSOEVER.
TRIG. ALMOST EVERYONE IN AMERICA GETS DUMPED “FOR NO REASON.” IT MEANS THEY AREN’T TELLING YOU THE REASON.
WHY WOULDN’T SHE TELL ME THE REASON? I ask reasonably.
Eyes upward emoji. WELCOME TO THE NORMAL WORLD BROTHER. I GUESS WHEN A SPOILED BILLIONAIRE DATES A WICKED SMART SUPERMODEL, THE TYPICALLY IMBALANCED PLAYING FIELD IS LEVELED. I WON’T LIE AND SAY I’M NOT ENJOYING THIS.
I want to throw my phone against the wall, but I’m not a toddler. I don’t throw tantrums. My fingers fly furiously over the keys instead. WHY AM I IN SUCH A FUNK ABOUT IT? IT’S NOT LIKE I WANTED TO MARRY HER OR ANYTHING. I WAS JUST TRYING TO HELP HER OUT.
WHAT COULD SHE POSSIBLY NEED FROM YOU?
I roll my eyes. There should be a rolling eyes emoji. I wonder if there is. I search for one and the closest I can find is the eyes looking up one that Brekka way over uses. GEO COULDN’T BE MORE UPTIGHT IF SHE TRIED. SHE NEVER HAS ANY FUN. SHE NEVER DATES. CLEARLY SHE NEVER GOT OVER LOSING THAT GUY. I JUST FIGURED I’D HELP HER GET OUT THERE AGAIN.
Those stupid three dots appear and sit on my screen for what feels like forever before Brekka’s reply finally pops up. She must have typed something and deleted it more than once, because her response is quite short. YOU’RE A MORON.
EXCUSE ME?
No reply.
THANKS FOR YOUR HELPFUL SISTERLY INSIGHT. SEND ME THE FILES.
The next few lines pop up so fast I know she’s been working on them for a bit. THAT GIRL WAS INJURED, AND HER INJURY IS AS REAL AS MINE. IF SHE DOESN’T WANT TO PUT HERSELF OUT THERE WITH THE BUNCH OF MISCREANT LOSERS WHO ARE SINGLE AT THIRTY, WELL, SHE’S JUSTIFIED. BUT SHE LIKES YOU, B. AND IF YOU STRING HER ALONG AND DUMP HER, YOU BETTER NOT TELL YOURSELF IT’S A FAVOR FOR HER.
At least I always know what Brekka’s thinking. She never pulls punches. UH, OKAY. GOT IT. DON’T STRING HER ALONG.
I MEAN IT. I LOVE YOU B, YOU KNOW I DO. PROBABLY MORE THAN ANYONE ELSE IN THE WORLD, BUT IF YOU HURT HER, I’M GONNA SLAP YOUR PRETTY FACE THE NEXT TIME I SEE YOU. IF YOU BLOW THIS, IT’S BECAUSE YOU’RE A COWARD. YOU’RE MANY THINGS, BUT I NEVER THOUGHT TO INCLUDE THAT BEFORE NOW.
Her words sting, and that pisses me off. HEARD FROM RUTLEDGE YESTERDAY. SHOULD I SET UP YOUR SURGERY FOR NEXT WEEK, WHILE WE’RE PLACING SO MUCH VALUE ON BRAVERY?
Her text back to me isn’t ladylike at all. I toss my phone onto the bed in disgust.
Why didn’t I just text my pilot? I hate fighting with Brekka. Other than the surgeries she keeps refusing, we almost never fight, and this one’s on me. I picked that fight with her. She was just trying to help.
I reach for my phone again, determined to get out of here and shake off this ennui that’s settled over me. I’m probably just struggling because I’m in between deals and bored. I really need to review those files.
Except once I have my hands on my phone again, I still don’t text the pilot. My fingers, against my will, text Luke and Paul.
DINNER TONIGHT?
Luke replies within seconds. YOU’RE STILL HERE? MAYBE MARY’S SMARTER THAN YOU THOUGHT. Laughing emoji, dang the man.
Then Luke texts again. I’D LOVE TO, BUT I CAN’T. RECITAL FOR AMY. RAIN CHECK?
Paul texts a minute later. I CAN GO. FINISHED SOME THINGS UP EARLY. WHERE YOU THINKING?
I’VE BEEN CRAVING ITALIAN, I text.
PORTOFINO? BOCCALUPO? Paul asks.
ACTUALLY, I WAS KIND OF THINKING MACARONI GRILL. I hold my breath.
ARE YOU KIDDING ME?
I wish I was. SIX PM. ALPHARETTA.
NO WAY. IF I’M EATING FRANCHISE FOOD, YOU’RE COMING TO ME. MARIETTA. SEE YOU AT SIX, Paul texts back.
I check the map on my phone and swear. It didn’t even occur to me there might be more than one Macaroni Grill in Atlanta, which is epically stupid. I don’t know what time Geo’s meal is, and now I have no idea whether I’ll even be at the right location. This is looking like a complete waste of time. Although she was pretty clear about not seeing me again. So maybe striking out is better than actually finding her. Barging in on her non-date might be even more idiotic than moping around a hotel room in a city I should have left already. I wonder what Brekka would say about my stalker-adjacent plans, but I don’t wonder enough to ask.
She might warn Geo.
The rest of the day crawls along, but luckily Brekka sends me the files. I dig into them, glad of something to distract me from thinking about sapphire eyes and shiny black hair. Two options are promising, one predictably in San Francisco, and the other in Hawaii. Not horrible places to travel at least.
I text Brekka and tell her to set up a meeting in both places later this week.
Without Brekka here to give me her opinion, I drag the housekeeping girls into my room and make them share their thoughts on my different button down shirt options.
“Yes, she’ll like that one,” one of them says about my blue shirt.
“No, no,” the other says. “The green is better with his eyes.”
The first girl shrugs. “If she doesn’t like either one, you could always take me out.”
She leaves her number on the Hyatt notepad on the desk before she leaves. I feel a little guilty tossing it in the trash, knowing she’ll see it there. I fish it out and flush it down the toilet instead. Then I worry about what it might do to the plumbing.
I can’t win lately.
I reach Macaroni Grill thirty minutes early, possibly because I’m a little nervous I’ll miss her. If we’re even in the right location. Why are there so many Macaroni Grills in Atlanta? I should have had my assistant look up her event planning business address to find out where her office is located. Odds are good she’d go to the closest one. Or maybe the one that’s closest to Rob.
This is starting to feel a little creepy, even to me. I could have just texted her, I guess. Except if she shuts me down again, I don’t know how I can work around that.
I’m on my second drink when Paul finally shows up, ten minutes late. He’s got the top few buttons undone of his shirt like he thinks he’s a young David Hasselhoff.
“Nice shirt,” I say. “But you don’t really get your money’s worth out of it when you don’t use all the buttons.”
“Shut up,” Paul says. “Since when do you like Macaroni Grill? You made fun of me incessantly in college for liking T.G.I. Fridays.”
He’s right, I did. I shrug. “I’m craving sun-dried tomatoes. So sue me.”
He frowns. “Do they have some kind of monopoly on sun-dried tomatoes I didn’t hear about?”
“Chill, dude. You’ll survive one meal at a chain restaurant.”
He orders a drink and turns around to face me. “So weren’t you in Atlanta just last week? Why are you back already? Looking at a tech company here? And what does Mary have to do with it?”
I forgot how annoying Paul is. He doesn’t do social niceties, like at all. “Good to see you too. How’s the launch coming?”
“You don’t want to talk about why you’re here?” Paul’s left eyebrow lifts.
“I want to talk about you,” I say. “I saw Luke last week, but you were too busy. We haven’t caught up in forever.”
He stares at me like he’s running a lie detector on my words. I hope that’s not some kind of new tech he’s testing. Surely I’d have heard of it.
“Your table is ready,” the hostess tells us.
Thank goodness. We follow her to a table near the left side of the restaurant. It’s not ideal. I can really only see about half of the room.
Although, as it turns out, I could have been sitting most anywhere. The waiter had just brought us our bowls of pasta when Geo walks in the door. Every guy in the room turns and drools when she walks in wearing an absurdly tight red dress and the black boots Brekka just gave her. She’s standing next to a table in the middle of the restaurant, waiting for them to change the paper on her table, when the guy with her says something funny.
She laughs and touches his chest and I find myself half standing, ready to cross the room and tell him to back off.
“Uh, what’s going on?” Paul follows my eyes across the room. “She’s really hot. Do you know her?”
He turns back to me, and I try to play it casual, but I can’t take my eyes off her.
“So that’s why we’re here? We’re stalking some girl? That’s not like you.” Paul looks like a cat munching at long last on the family goldfish. “How the mighty have fallen.”
That grabs my attention. “I’m not stalking her, okay? I heard she was meeting some guy here, and he sounded kind of, I don’t know, suspect.”
Paul turns back to the table. “You’re worried about the huge, muscly Channing Tatum look-a-like guy she’s with? What exactly are you going to do if he’s suspect? Pay him to go away? Hire someone else to beat him up?”
“You think he looks like Channing Tatum?” I bite down on a mouthful of pasta and force myself to chew. “Some stuff Geo said about him made me think maybe he was dangerous.”
Paul’s eyebrows rise. “Wait, Geo? That name’s weird and it sounds familiar.”
I grit my teeth.
He snaps. “Geode Polson. That’s Luke’s irritatingly persistent wedding planner, right?”
I nod tightly.
Paul swears. “I’ve dodged about four calls from her. She wants to meet about the wedding. Guess I should call her back, huh? Since you’ve clearly already struck out.”
He presses his lips together smugly and I want to throw my bowl of pasta at him. Paul has always been a little obnoxious, but usually his stupid comments roll off me. What’s wrong with me tonight?
“Okay, fine. I’ll ease up. But fill me in. You met Luke’s freaking gorgeous wedding planner and you want to hook up, but she’s playing hard to get. Is that it?”
I scowl at him. “No, I mean, she’s friends with Brekka and so I’m looking out for her as a favor to my sister. That’s all.”
“Wait, how is she friends with Brekka?” Paul asks.
“She got snowed in while she was checking out Vail as a venue.”
“And you have that cabin there. Brekka was there too?” He whistles low under his breath. “That must have been a little annoying. In terms of you putting the moves on her.”
“Stop being gross. I don’t even like her, not like that. I already said. I’m doing Brekka a favor.”
Paul puts his fork down and crosses his arms. “You’re telling me we came to a Macaroni Grill, the first chain restaurant I’ve ever seen you drive to voluntarily, and the chronically late Trig came early too, just so that we can make sure some guy doesn’t punch her in a public place as a favor to your sister, who she just met. Is that right?”
Paul’s words force me to examine my behavior. I’m acting kind of crazy. What am I really doing here?
“Fine. Let’s say I buy that beachfront property in Nebraska. Explain why you’ve been staring at her nonstop since she walked inside if you don’t like her.”
I jerk my eyes back toward him. “I haven’t been staring.”
He rolls his eyes and jerks a thumb back toward Geo’s table. “The guy she’s with has a Semper Fi tattoo on his arm. I’m guessing that means he’s a Marine. Tell me our plan here. Because I’m sure not going to throw down with that Marine, and I don’t know whether I have enough cash on me to pay the restaurant when he breaks a table with your face, either.”
“Fine,” I say. “I have no real reason to suspect he’s a jerk, okay? He’s supposed to be her oldest friend, but I think he likes her. And maybe I think about her a little bit more than I should.”
Paul’s belly laugh annoys me.
“I’m glad someone’s amused at how crazy I sound.”
Paul nods. “Actually you sound human. For the first time since college, I might genuinely like you right now.”
“That makes one of us,” I mutter.
“Are you insulting me with that, or yourself?” Paul asks.
I hate how literal and annoying Paul always is, but I appreciate him pulling me out of my funk. “You’re kind of a jerk, but I’m glad you’re here tonight to tell me what a moron I’m being.” I pull my phone out. “I’m texting my pilot right now to tell him I’m ready to head back home.”
Paul slaps my hand. “Absolutely not. I’ve known you for fifteen years and I’ve never seen you do a single thing beyond a casual ‘Wassup’ to pursue any girl. There’s no way I’m leaving this restaurant without meeting that woman.”
“Absolutely not,” I say. “If you think I’m acting crazy, Geo definitely will. I’m sitting right here until she leaves.”
Paul laughs again. “Suit yourself.”
When he stands up, I want to sink into the floor and disappear. I hate Paul. My options are to follow him over and act like it’s all a coincidence, or. . . Maybe I could hide in the bathroom. In which case I have no idea what Paul might say to Geo about me, or why we’re here.
I’m definitely telling all my friends to boycott his stupid five pound car battery.
I leap from my seat and rush after Paul. When Geo looks up at me, her eyes widen and her lips compress. Not a great sign.
“Trig? What are you doing here?”
“I asked him to meet me over here on my side of town for dinner,” Paul says.
That was pretty smooth. I almost forgive Paul for being an irritating idiot.
“But then he glances over here and sees you. He says he knows you,” Paul says, “and I realize you’ve been calling me, and I’ve been a flake. I insisted on coming over to introduce myself.” He holds out his hand. “I’m Paul Manning, Luke’s better and much younger brother. I hear you’re Geode Polson, wedding planner extraordinaire.”
Rob’s sitting across from Geo, and at Paul’s words, he grins at her. “Wait, you’re planning a wedding? Why didn’t you tell me?”
She blushes and I wonder why.
“I am,” she says, “but only because Luke and Mary offered me enough to nearly pay for the Phineas Enrollment.”
Phineas Enrollment? What’s that? I make a mental note to look it up.
Rob’s eyes widen and he reaches over to touch her. I want to grab a fork and jab it into his meaty hand. Judging from his tattoo, which does indeed say Semper Fi, and his muscles, and the small scar on his jaw, that would probably be the last thing I ever do.
“How much time do you have left?” Rob asks her. “Because I’ll make up the difference if you need me to—”
Geo waves her hand at him and shakes her head in tandem, cutting him off before he can say anything more helpful. It has the look of a reaction to an old discussion, which piques my curiosity even more. She turns toward Paul, standing up and holding out her hand. She specifically doesn’t meet my eyes, which leaves my stomach in knots. “It’s so nice to finally meet you. I’ve heard so many good things about you from Luke.”
Paul takes her hand and keeps it for a few seconds too long. “The pleasure’s all mine. Normally I could simply pick a date and meet you for lunch, but with the launch and another side project, I’ve been running mad. I’m under strict orders not to plan anything without making sure it doesn’t conflict with the rest. I’ll have my secretary confirm which day next week will work and reach out to you for lunch. Please forgive me for being so rude, and I’m so sorry to interrupt your date tonight.”
Rob stands up. “Oh don’t worry. It’s not a date, just a weekly dinner with a friend. I’m Robert Graham, Geo’s oldest friend.”
Paul’s an evil genius. He smoothed things over and got Rob to admit this isn’t a date, all while looking like a good guy.
“Oldest?” Paul asks. “You don’t look much older than twenty.”
Rob chuckles, a low sound in his chest. “Twenty-seven. One year older than Geo. Old enough to run four car dealerships. Which is probably nothing to the two of you, but it keeps me busy.”
Paul points at the tattoo on his arm. “And a Marine to boot.”
Rob nods in an irritatingly tough way. Like he eats rocks for lunch. Or maybe walks to work across the snapping snouts of crocodiles. I hate him even more in person. “I was honorably discharged after half my task force died and I took shrapnel to my back.”
My eyebrows rise. “You seem fine now, thankfully.”
He shrugs. “Four surgeries later and untold hours of physical therapy and I get by. Docs say I’m lucky I was young and healthy when it happened. Still have some hardware in my back, but the bones fused again and the spinal cord was intact.”
Geo takes his hand in hers. “Rob had those four surgeries over the course of three weeks. Every time I was a wreck, sitting at the hospital and praying. I almost never pray.”
Rob laughs. “She was worse than my mom.” He turns toward me. “I’ve met Paul, but I haven’t met you yet. What’s your name?”
“I’m Trig,” I say, extending my hand in the hope that he’ll drop Geo’s.
He does, and I breathe a small sigh of relief.
“Trig you say? What a unique name. And I may be reading it wrong, but it seems like you know Geo.”
“I gave her a ride back home so she could be here tonight,” I say. “And she stayed at my cabin last weekend near Vail.” I’m irritated he doesn’t already know who I am. Why wouldn’t Geo have mentioned me to her oldest friend?
Rob’s eyes widen. “You don’t say.” He grins at Geo then. “You may have shared an edited version of events with me, G. I wonder why.”
“I keep asking her out,” I say. “But she insists she doesn’t date. And even though you said it’s not, this sure seems like a date to me.”
“One time.” Geo’s eyes flash. “You asked me out one time. And I told you I don’t date a million times because it’s true.”
“Well, if you’re not going out with Trig tomorrow night, I’d be happy to meet with you over dinner instead of lunch,” Paul says. “I’m sure I can clear my schedule for that.”
I’m going to punch him, I swear.
“That should work, actually,” Geo says, smiling at me sideways.
“No, it won’t.” I have an epiphany. “Because you owe me a boon.”
She shakes her head. “I paid up.”
“Oh please,” I say. “You answered one question. You were going to ask me for a weekend in Italy. I hardly think my little question and what you planned to request are comparable.”
She purses her lips. “What do you want?”
“One date,” I say. “Break your rule for one single date with me, and if you never want to go out again, we’re even.”
She puts one hand on her hip and looks me straight in the eyes.
“What are you afraid of?” I ask.
She scowls. “Nothing. Fine. One dinner.”
“So you’re dating again?” Rob asks. “This is big news, and also, it’s about time.”
What if she hasn’t ever dated her oldest, muscliest, most masculine friend who owns lots of car dealerships because she doesn’t date at all? If she goes out once, does that end her rule, so she can date Rob? Or maybe I just introduced her to Pretty Boy Paul and broke her hiatus so the two of them could hook up. They both live in Atlanta already.
My pasta isn’t sitting very well.
I don’t know why, because I don’t care whether she dates someone else. Or, actually I do. I’m obviously helping her get out there, which has always been my only goal. Brekka should be proud of me. Maybe it’ll make up for the borderline stalking today.
As if he can read my thoughts, Rob clears his throat. “What a happy accident you two wound up at Macaroni Grill the same time as us.”
Geo’s eyebrows draw together.
Paul says, “Not so odd. I live like two miles away, and I love sun-dried tomatoes.” He winks at me.
“I love them too,” Geo says. “And I live less than two miles from here as well.”
“Small world.” Paul grins at me. “Also, how convenient. Even if you’re busy tomorrow, don’t be a stranger. We can get together anytime at all, really. You could bike over to my house. I live in Chattahoochee Plantation, right on the river.”
“By the Atlanta Country Club Estates?” she asks.
Paul nods. “Exactly.”
“I love that area,” Geo says. “It’s so gorgeous. I live in the Riverview Condos, right around the corner from you.”
“You don’t say,” Paul says. “I jog in Chattahoochee park with my dog several times a week.”
“I go jogging too! I bet I’ve passed you and never even noticed.”
“I think I’d remember you,” he says. “I jog in the morning.”
She shakes her head. “I usually jog after work. Too many client and vendor meetings in the mornings.”
“Maybe I’ll aim for an evening jog now and then,” he says. “Couldn’t hurt.”
“And you have a dog?” She grins. “I love dogs. Luke mentioned your backyard is the fallback reception spot. Maybe I should come take a look at it, and I can meet him or her.”
“Him,” Paul says. “Sir Winston, but I call him Winny because he’s so whiny. He whimpers a lot whenever he isn’t in my lap. He’s a golden lab, so he’s way too big to be sitting on people. You’re welcome to come check out my yard anytime, but I’d love it if you came while I was home so I could show you around and keep an eye on my overly exuberant fur ball.”
Another five minutes and they’ll be picking out china patterns. “We better let you two get back to your evening,” I say. “I’ll text you to work out details of our date tomorrow.”
Geo nods her head. “Sure, text me.”
“That reminds me,” Paul says. “I don’t have your cell number handy.”
Geo raises one eyebrow. “I left it on your voicemail enough times.”
“Duh,” Paul says. “I’ll grab it from there.”
Seeing her treating Paul with the same critical skepticism she showed me the first time we met reminds me that I’ve moved past that. She knows me.
She’s kissed me.
I take a big step toward Geo and pull her toward me for a quick hug. “Those boots look amazing,” I whisper into her ear. “Glad they fit.”
Her breathing hitches in a way I adore, and I let her go.
I pay the check and walk with Paul out to his car without picking a fight. I consider that a major accomplishment. But I can’t quite help saying something when he climbs into his Lotus.
“I appreciate you taking the heat for being at Macaroni Grill tonight.”
Paul smiles. “That conversation was possibly the most fun I’ve had in months.”
“Glad you enjoyed yourself,” I say, “but I like Geo. So back off, okay?”
Paul’s smile doesn’t waver. “She’s not really my type, but I’ll make an exception. You can’t really want me to quit trying? It’s no fun to win by default.”
“Be serious.”
“I am serious,” Paul says. “That was fun back there. May the best man win.”
He slams the door and I regret not punching him when I had a clear shot.