CHAPTER 16
Georgie’s cell phone chimed. She picked it up.
“Earth to Georgie.”
She looked up from the text message to Seth, who was sitting across from her at the writers’ table.
He met her eyes, then looked down at his phone and typed something.
Chime. She looked at her phone.
“We’re running out of time.”
Georgie thought for a second, then thumbed in a reply—
“I know, I’m sorry.”
When Seth looked back up at her, his eyebrows were crowded together over his brown eyes.
She felt herself tearing up.
He tilted his head, then scrunched his nose unhappily. Seth hated it when Georgie cried. He went back to the phone again, typing rapidly.
“Talk to me.”
“I can’t. I wouldn’t know where to start.”
“I don’t care where you start.”
She wiped her eyes on her shoulder.
Seth sighed.
“Georgie, whatever it is—we’ll get through it.”
She stared down at her phone. After a few seconds, AN EMERGENCY CONTACT popped up on the screen, and it started to ring. It was just the standard ring—Marimba—Georgie never had time to figure out special ringtones.
She grabbed her laptop and stood up, answering the call and walking toward the door, careful not to close the computer or unplug the phone. “Hello?”
“Meow!”
Georgie felt a cold surge of disappointment. Then felt guilty about it. You’re not supposed to feel a cold surge of disappointment at the sound of your four-year-old daughter’s voice.
“Meow,” Georgie said, leaning against the wall outside the writers’ room.
“Grandma said I could call you,” Noomi said.
“You can always call me. How are you, sweetie? Did you make me some cookies?”
“No.”
“Oh. That’s okay.”
“Maybe Grandma did. I made some for Santa and some for me.”
“That was smart. I’ll bet they’re delicious.”
“Meow,” Noomi said. “I’m a green kitty.”
“I know.” Georgie tried to focus. “You’re the best green kitty in the world. I love you so much, Noomi.”
“You’re the best mommy in the world, and I love you more than milk and fishbones and . . . what else do kitties like?”
“Yarn,” Georgie said.
“Yarn,” Noomi giggled. “That’s crazy.”
Georgie took a calming breath. “Noomi, is Daddy there?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Can I talk to him?”
“No.”
Georgie knocked her head back against the wall. “Why not?”
“He’s sleeping. He said we can’t even go upstairs to pee.”
Georgie should tell Noomi to do it anyway. Neal was her husband. And she hadn’t talked to him for three days. (Or thirteen hours.) (Or fifteen years.) Georgie sighed. “Okay. Can I talk to Alice?”
“Alice is playing Monopoly with Grandma.”
“Right.”
“I have to go. My hot chocolate is cold now.”
“Meow,” Georgie said. “Meow-meow, love you, green kitty.”
“Meow-meow, Mommy, I love you even more than yarn.”
Noomi hung up.