“How has everything been, just, in general?” I watched her hands produce a fascinatingly flowy cursive penmanship as she marked boxes on her calendar and made lists of ideas for classes.
“I can do an introductory class to start. Offer those on the next two Saturdays and Sundays and then schedule the grand opening for, like, three weeks from now?” She looked up hopefully, but frowned when she saw me studying her. “What?”
I gave a half smile. “I asked how things were going, you know, with life. I only see you in here these days ... just checking in.”
She sat back in the booth. “Things...” She looked around, just with her eyes, not turning her head. They seemed to glass over a bit.
“Hey...” I reached across the table and held out my hand. “Would it help if I went first?”
Georgia placed her always-warm hand in mine, and I took a deep breath as I wrapped my fingers around them. “I’m working on a final goodbye to Rae.”
“What kind of goodbye?”
“An answer to her letter.”
Georgia looked confused. “Did she ... ask you something?”
“Haven’t you read it?” I tilted my head to the side.
“No.”
“But when...” I trailed off, trying to recall why I’d assumed she’d read it.
She pulled her hand from mine and ran it through her hair. She had thick roots growing in. The only reason I thought anything about it was because CJ said her hair used to be dark, and I’d spent an inordinate amount of time imagining her with dark hair.
“The night Bo and Ember were here, they sat with you and read it, remember? It was clearly a very ... personal moment. I wasn’t going to intrude.”
I reached into my back pocket, where I’d been keeping the card since I first read it. “Read it.”
“It’s okay, Regan, I don’t ... need to.” She shook her hands and head at the same time.
“I need you to, Georgia.” I slid the card across the table, eyeing the already wrinkling and fading edges.
“Why do you need me to?” She didn’t reach for the letter.
“You’ve been really open and honest with me, Georgia, and ... you were there for me, really there when I read the thing. I figured you should know where I’m coming from.” I tapped the envelope. “This is where I’m coming from.”
Her look took on the pallor of guilt as she swaddled the letter after taking it from the envelope. She looked at me once before opening it. I nodded, reassuring her. She paled further as she read. Her eyes brightened at what I assumed were the cute and funny parts Rae had written. Then, it was like I was watching a flashback of myself when I came to the I love you portion of the event ... Georgia’s hand went to her mouth and she dropped the card, looking at me.
“I’m so, so sorry.” She kept her hand hovering over her lips and she fled our booth, exiting the bakery door and taking deep breaths in the fresh air of the quiet Sunday morning.
Carefully, I slid the card back into its envelope, tucked it in my back pocket, savoring the limited time it would reside there, and followed Georgia outside.
“She loved you,” Georgia started as the door closed behind me. “She loved you, and never really said it, and you loved her and never said it, then she died and no one said it and, holy fuck, Regan.” She paced in circles.
“I—”
“And she died,” Georgia repeated, and as if she were just learning of Rae’s death for the first time, she started to cry.
So did I.
“She did.” I wiped under my eyes.
“How are you standing here? How did you ... what ... shit and then we kissed.” She ran a knuckle under her eye.
“I wanted to kiss you, Georgia. And, you wanted to kiss me ... judging by the way you, you know, kissed me.” I cracked a smile, not fully understanding her meltdown.
She leaned against the building just as it started to drizzle. “I knew you’d been in love, Regan. You told me. Rewiring your insides and all that, but ... why would you want to risk it again?”
“Risk what, love?”
“Losing it,” she whispered as more tears fell.
I shook my head, words jamming in my throat. Insecurity crashed into hope, fear rear-ended happiness. I walked over to Georgia and put my hands on her shoulders. “What if I don’t lose it?”
I had to believe my words. Had to. There was no other way to take another breath. Ever.
“What if you do?” She stared through me, like she was etching an imaginary future into my brain.
I squeezed her shoulders, almost shouting over the fear that tried to drown the words as the rain fell harder around us. Crashing cymbals of water. “What if I do, Georgia? What if I do?”
The wind picked up, directing the rain to slam in sheets against us. Georgia didn’t blink as she met my eyes, water covering every inch of her face.
“I have to go.” She shimmied away from my hold and walked to her car, pulling away without another word.