The girls nodded and walked away, leaving her completely alone with her thoughts and the five hundred thousand calories sitting on the counter. She grabbed a strawberry from the Edible Arrangement Mr. Gary had sent over and walked outside to the porch, wiping her tears away.
A gust of warm air hit her as she stepped out into the muggy, overcast afternoon. The leaky tin awning above her head was dripping noisily and a small bird splashed around in the puddle of water on the blue tarp covering her dad’s boat. Madison swatted away a mosquito. Cigarette smoke wafted toward her and she turned.
On the lawn, his back toward her, was George, puffing pensively. Madison’s heart lurched. Since spotting him in the church, she’d wondered if he’d make it to the reception but figured that he didn’t want to be anywhere near her.
“You know those are bad for you,” she said.
George turned around, his green eyes lighting up at the sight of her. “Hey,” he said softly. He looked down at the cigarette in embarrassment. “Uh, yeah, you know I don’t really smoke that often—”
“Can I have one?” she cut him off, meeting him halfway on the concrete.
He nodded and handed her a cigarette, lighting it with his stainless steel lighter.
She walked over to the porch swing, and he followed. They sat down, neither saying anything for a few seconds. Instead, they just listened to the repetition of the swing creaking up and down.
After a few calming drags, Madison finally spoke. “How long have you been here?”
“Not long, just a few minutes,” George said, his voice deep and soothing. He put his arm around the back of the swing, his silver Rolex clunking against the wood. Madison resisted the urge to move closer to him, bury her face in his jacket, and let him comfort her. “Your eulogy was great. It was perfect.”
“Thanks.” She exhaled some smoke. “I’m . . . I’m happy you’re here. You don’t know how much this means to me.”
“I just wanted to tell you I’m so sorry, Madison.” He touched her shoulder, and the warmth of his hand made her heart clench.
She looked up at him, wondering what he was apologizing for. Her dad? Their relationship? Something else?
“You were right—the things you said when you left. I took advantage of your situation and it was wrong.” He crushed his cigarette into the concrete with his polished loafer. “You may have picked up on this over the past few months, but I don’t always make the best social decisions.” He sighed. “You were so much younger than me and in a desperate situation, and after you left, I did a lot of reflecting and realized that I shouldn’t have put you in that position.”
She leaned her head back on the swing and thought about what he was saying. He might feel guilty, but she took advantage of the situation, too. “I never felt pressured, though, so don’t feel like that happened, okay?”
“I never wanted to hurt you,” he said looking up at her. The earnest look in his eyes made her stomach ache.
“And you never did.” She blew on her cigarette, realizing he sort of had the situation twisted. “But I know I hurt you. And I’m really sorry about that, George.”
He stood up and walked over to a glass of scotch that was sitting on the windowsill. He must have set it down earlier when he came outside. “We both made mistakes, Mads,” he said, taking a sip of his drink.
As she stared at him, she noticed for the first time how confident he was. George had never played mind games with her, or waffled about what he wanted. He made decisions—about her, about his life—with certainty, and followed through on them. It was an attractive quality. How had she not realized that before?
“You know why I loved being with you?” he asked, pacing in front of the window. “When I first met you, I had this need to comfort you, to take care of you. But the more I got to know you, the more I learned all the good in you that, quite frankly, I don’t think you even knew you had. I stopped wanting to take care of you and started falling in love with you.”
“You fell in love with me?” she said softly.
George stopped his pacing and locked eyes with her, a determined set to his jaw. “You made me laugh, and see things in a different way. Even though I knew what you were doing, what we were, I felt like you were being genuine when we were together.”
Madison sighed. “I was.” The times that she’d spent with George were always, surprisingly, some of the most fun she’d ever had. He made her feel heard and funny and adventurous. All he’d ever asked was for her to be herself.
He joined her on the swing again. “For the first time in my life, I allowed myself to be happy. I don’t know—it’s like you brought out things in myself that I wasn’t even aware of. . . . I went thirty-two years without ever letting someone into my life, and I was starting to think that it was never gonna happen.” He took another sip of his scotch. “Now, it hurt when you left.” He put his hand on his heart. “But the pain was just a reminder that for the first time, I had let myself fall. And that was a good thing.” He frowned thoughtfully. “I didn’t see you leaving to go with Cash as something cruel. You might, but I don’t. . . .”
Guilt tore at Madison. “Then what did you see it as?” she asked, leaning toward him.
“Something you needed to do.” He put his arm around the back of the swing again. “You needed to see that you deserved better than that. You’re a good person, Mads. Just like your dad.”
A lump grew in Madison’s throat as she thought about her father. Being compared to him was the highest compliment she could think of.
“All that stuff that you said in the eulogy about him—you got all of that from him,” George continued. “And that family of yours that you’ll go home to every night one day, they’re gonna be the luckiest people in the world.” He took another sip of his scotch. “There’s something so special about you, and I know that you’re going to find someone just as special as you are.”
Madison considered his words. She’d been in love with Cash for years, and the whole time she’d been waiting for him to commit, for him to see her as special, as enough. But in a strange way, it’d never been about him, not really. He’d never let her get close enough to see if they’d actually work. It was like those Snickers bars she used to steal—a cheap thrill, or a bad habit she couldn’t kick. But since she’d left Birmingham, she hadn’t thought of Cash once.
“George, thank you for understanding. Going off with Cash was something I thought I needed to do.” Her mind flashed back to Cash, and how dismissive he’d been. She frowned. “But you’re right. When I was there, I realized it wasn’t what I wanted or needed in my life.” She sat back against the swing. “This whole thing with my dad—it made me realize that I wanted someone who would be there by my side through everything. When I’m looking back on my life, I want it to be filled with laughter and adventure—not tears and drama.”
George put his arm around her and rubbed her shoulder. She leaned into his touch.