morning to inform me my purchase has been packaged and is ready for pickup. I’m filled with conflicting emotions over it. While I’m happy to have Georgia’s work in my possession, knowing she titled a drawing of me Betrayal hurts. A title I earned, but that doesn’t mean I like it.
I leave Sanders’ house well after he’s left for work, and drive to the gallery. The closer I get, the sweatier my palms are, and I’m not sure why. I turn down the heat in my old car, hoping that will help, but I seem to have the same affliction as Bruce at the moment.
My heart starts pounding as I pull into the parking garage behind the gallery. Maybe on account of the huge chunk of my savings I dropped on these pieces of art? I’m not sure what the reason is, but I don’t like it, either.
I swipe my palms on my jeans as I walk around the front of the building, and the second I enter, my pounding heart makes sense.
She’s here. Looking every bit the stunning angel she always has. Her hair is tied back, which I haven’t seen before, even when she was painting. It exposes her delicate neck that I miss kissing, and her angry eyes that I so deserve.
“I knew it was you.” Georgia glares at me from fifteen feet away. She looks as conflicted as I feel. “If you think this makes things right, that you can just pay me off, you’re wrong.”
Clearly, we’re skipping right over any casual greetings or pleasantries.
I’m not really sure what to say. “Peaches.”
“Are you that self-absorbed, you want a portrait of yourself?” she asks, stepping closer.
Now I know the right answer. The truth. “No. I bought it because I wanted a reminder of when I was happy.”
She stops short of reaching me and takes a deep swallow.
“And I wanted to rename it.”
She scoffs. “You can’t rename an artist’s work.”
“What were you going to name it? Before everything.”
“Before I found out what a massive liar you are? Before I realized you never cared about me and played me for a fool? You mean then?” Her eyes glass over, and I can only hope she doesn’t shed another tear over me. “It took every ounce of self-preservation I have not to light them on fire. But a fire inspector I once knew taught me that would be a hazard.”
Now I gulp down the lump in my throat and step forward, hoping she won’t retreat. “Do you want to know what I’d title it?” I ask, hoping she’ll let me finish. I remember her telling me the first time I saw her art in her apartment, that she titles work after the dominant emotion she experiences. This time, I’m hoping she’ll let me name it after mine. “Love. I’d call it love.”
Now tears trickle down her cheeks. “You can’t say that.”
“It’s true, Peaches.” I know she asked me not to call her that, but she didn’t correct me last time, so I’m hoping she’ll let it slide again. “I’m so in love with you,” I choke out, trying to keep control of my emotions. But it’s hard with her so close, yet so far.
She shakes her head and covers her face with her hands. “You broke me, Archie. You’ve made me not able to trust myself anymore. I don’t trust other people. I question every person’s intentions when they so much as look at me. What you did, it’s changed me in a fundamental way I can’t change back.”
I step forward to wrap her in my arms. I know it’s a risk and there’s a great possibility I’ll witness some of her alleged jiu-jitsu moves, but I take the chance, anyway. She doesn’t push me away. Instead, she collapses against me.
“That day you left to go out with Rene, when I said I had something to tell you, I was going to confess everything. Who I was and why we met. How I felt. All of it. I wanted to be honest with you so long before that, but it was more than just my job on the line. People were being hurt, and I was supposed to stop the criminals responsible. Please understand that I never set out to hurt you, Peaches. I never set out to fall in love with you either, but I did. And I may not deserve you loving me back, but I’ll do anything to earn your trust again.”
She sniffles against my chest and that sound alone crushes me. “I don’t know if I can trust you again, Archie. Or myself. I knew something was off, but I gave you my heart, anyway. How am I supposed to recover from that? I understand you were doing your job, but that doesn’t make it hurt less.”
“I’m so sorry, Peaches. Truly. I quit my job, so I have nothing to offer you. I’m an ex-federal agent with a mortgage and a collection of house plants. Hardly a glowing resume. But my heart is yours.”
She lifts her eyes to meet mine and staring into those baby blues feels more like coming home than walking through my front door ever has. “I have Christofern and Vincent van Grow. They’re very needy, FYI. And I think they’re a little upset with you too.”
Before I can ask how she ended up with my plants, she stands upright and pulls herself away.
“What do you mean, you have a mortgage?”
This is one of the many truths I have to share with her. “I own a house in Oak Park, but I’m not living there.”
“Why not? Where are you living?”
I sigh because I don’t want to explain who is living in my house. I promised Theresa I wouldn’t use her situation as a ploy to win Georgia back, and I meant it. “Currently, I’m staying on Sanders’ couch in his one-bedroom apartment that makes your condo seem spacious.”
She narrows her eyes at me, seemingly unbothered by the other people in the gallery who are studying us as they pass by. “Why aren’t you living in your house?”
“Because someone else is renting it right now. Didn’t make sense to leave it empty.” I know that’s a half-truth, which is the opposite of what she needs from me right now. But I’m caught in a catch twenty-two scenario.
“Show me.” Georgia places one hand on her hip, all signs of upset long gone.
My heart picks up its pace. “Show you… the house?”
“Yes.”
“Peaches, someone else is living there. I can’t—”
“You said you’d do anything to gain my trust back. I want to see your house. Just the outside.”
That’s an unexpected demand, and I’m not sure how it helps regain her trust. I try to come up with an alternative and pull out my phone. “I can show you some pictures.”
“Archie, it’s a simple ask. I’ve met your brother and sister-in-law, who went along with your lie. The home you welcomed me into wasn’t yours at all. You lied about your job and I don’t know what else. You could show me any photos and I wouldn’t know the difference. A house is something that doesn’t lie.” Her determination that this is an important step is hard to ignore.
Especially when I’m desperate to regain her trust.
“Okay. Let me grab my purchases and we can do a drive-by.” I swallow down the lump in my throat, yet again. I can give Georgia the glimpse into my life she’s looking for without compromising Theresa’s privacy.
“You can’t pay for these, Archie,” Georgia replies. “I can’t take your money.”
I step forward, closing the gap she created moments ago. “It’s not up for debate, Peaches. I’m not buying them to bribe you. I’m buying them because I love them and someday, when I’m back living in my own house, I want them on the walls.”
“I don’t want your money,” she whispers.
“Well, I already signed the sales contract.” I turn to Sephora, who has appeared with my bundle of four canvases. “Do you need any help here? Or do you want me to come back later?” I ask Georgia.
She glances at Sephora, who gives a nod. “No, you’re the last one to pick anything up. I was just here to get my check.”
“Okay.” I hoist my new artwork carefully after a thank you to Sephora for her help.
Georgia shrugs on her coat, then walks to the door to hold it open for me.
Of all the times she followed me without asking questions, I owe her the same courtesy. If seeing the outside of my house will help earn her trust back, I’ll risk the sight of Bruce’s pasty cheeks to make that happen.