Writing Mr. Right (18 page)

Georgia’s eyes went wide. She thought he was crazy. Well, fuck.

“Don’t say that, Garrett. You can’t say shit like that, I’ll belie -”

Garrett swallowed. “Maybe I shouldnae, but it’s said.”

“What if I don’t want you to come to Boston?”

“Oh. Ehm -” Garrett closed his eyes a moment, startled by just how much these words hurt.

“No, I didn’t mean that. I mean, I
do
want you to, but what if -.”

Cassie appeared beside them, touching Georgia’s elbow. “Garrett, it was lovely meeting you, but we have to go. If she didn’t have an event this evening in
London
, I would say snog the day away, as you Brits say, but given they are expecting us -”

Georgia wiped her face. “I know, I know.”

She grabbed up her bag from the bench and shouldered it. Georgia curled her fingers into Garrett’s shirt, pulled him into her to kiss him, and then stormed off, shielding her face from him as she went.

Garrett took a deep breath and watched them hustle into the VIP check in line and out of sight. He’d gone dry in the mouth and his stomach was in knots, but he was upright and mobile before he could allow her comments to sink in. He was out the door and across the walk, still in his outfit from the night before, getting glances from the newly arrived tourists as he marched passed in his kilt. He’d fought so hard not to blurt out his heart the night before. Yet, he’d made a fool of himself standing in the airport, thinking her tears meant she felt the same way - and she’d looked at him like he was some celebrity stalker you hear about on the tele. What a fucking twat?

Tell me ye wet your willy last night!

Barry’s text startled him halfway across the road. He glanced down, hoping it was Georgia, and felt almost irritated with Barry to find that it wasn’t.

Get tae fuck
, he responded.

Barry texted back instantly.
Is that a yes? No? For fuck’s sake, where you been all night?

The sound of a car honking startled him. He was standing like an idiot in the middle of the crosswalk. He ignored the rest of Barry’s texts and made his way into the parking garage, and climbed into the back of the black sedan, pulling out his phone.

He wondered how much of a twat he’d be if he texted his actual thoughts –
I miss you already. Call me later, I want to hear your American accent. I think I’m in love with you.

He shuddered in embarrassment and didn’t say any of these things.

Text me when you land so I know you’re safe. Talk to you soon.

Then he leaned back in his seat and stared out the window, watching the planes take off from the runway as they left the airport.

CHAPTER TEN

“Why did I say that, Cassie? Why did I say that?”

The plane was beginning its decent into London, and Georgia was still stewing over those last words she’d said to Garrett – ‘What if I don’t want you to?’

She hadn’t meant them as a refusal. What she’d wanted to say was, ‘Yes! Please!’ or ‘What if I move to Edinburgh?’ Yet neither of those things came out of her mouth, and when it was time to clarify, she mumbled like a jackass with marbles in her mouth.

“Gigi, it’s fine. You’re fine. Just text him when we land, tell him what you meant,” Cassie said, chewing impatiently on her packet of pretzels. She hated pretzels. The only thing Cassie hated more than pretzels was flying. “Why don’t you pull out your laptop? Get some writing done. It might take your mind off the guy for a while.”

“Yeah, you’re right.”

Georgia sat there, staring out her window at the quilted landscape of Britain. They were only twenty minutes from London now, taking out her laptop would be useless. Cassie was too concerned with her pretzels to realize.

“Are you still having trouble? Writing?”

Georgia took a deep breath, and nodded. She hadn’t written more than a few words since she met Garrett MacCauley. Every time she sat down to finish the third book, she saw Garrett’s face. Douglas MacCready no longer hovered in a strange, dark haired, green eyed oblivion – now she felt like she knew what the stubble of his beard felt like after two days without a shave. She felt as though she was betraying Garrett’s secrets every time she wrote. What little detail of Douglas MacCready would Garrett share next – the green eyes? Check. The Scottish accent? Check. An ass slapper? A resounding check. The middle name, the lost mother, the town he was from, the scar on his right hand – what detail would she pull from mid-air next, only to discover it true of the man she was falling in love wi –

Stop, she thought. Don’t say that.

Georgia sighed. “Yes, sadly.”

“Why?” Cass asked, a tiny speck of pretzel flying from her mouth and sticking to the seat back in front of her. She covered her mouth embarrassed, wiping the seat. “You still worried something is gonna happen?”

Georgia gave her a sheepish look. She’d explained her strange phenomenon to Cassie long ago. Sarah Elise knew, even Burgess knew. They’d all nodded and humored her to the best of their ability. After a few months, or even weeks of knowing her, they witnessed it for themselves. No one was just humoring her anymore.

Still, Cassie was the only one among them who had met Garrett now.

“He has the scar on his right hand,” Georgia said, near exasperated. “What the hell is going on?”

Samantha could relate to this trouble. Could take a month, could take a year, but whatever it was Samantha proclaimed, it would come true. The problem was neither of them could control it. They never knew which random detail they scribbled or squabbled that would come to bite them in the ass. And who knew whether this time would be any different than the last? Walter was a green eyed kilt wearer as well.

“Yeah, but he was also a scum bag. Douglas MacCready isn’t,” Cass had said when she heard this argument.

“Well, I didn’t know he was a scum bag until -”

“Yeah, you did. That guy was useless long before your Nana. And you said it yourself, you’ll never waste your time on a man who doesn’t show up, again.”

Georgia leaned her head back against her seat as the pressure in her ears began to build. “And yet, I took off for Inverness the second we landed.”

Cassie stuffed the last pretzel in her mouth. “Well, you have to do what’s right for you. If going to see him was what you needed to do, even if it turned out he was a dick bag, too -”

An older woman jerked in the seat in front of them, eyeing Georgia through the space between the seats. Georgia displayed her palms in apology, but Cassie leaned in, making eye contact with the disgruntled woman as she continued.

“- you still did what was right for you.
Dick bag
or no.” The woman huffed, turning forward again. “You’d rather know, wouldn’t you? Rather than spend your life wondering.”

Georgia inhaled, slowly. Cassie had very Samantha-like moments. “Yes, I would.”

“And as you write in your books; soul mates find their way to one another. Always. Maybe you were pulled to Inverness because he really is Douglas MacCready.”

That’s not helping, she thought. “But he wasn’t there.”

Cassie tossed her pretzel wrapper on the floor and groaned. “Yeah, because he was busy trying to find you.”

Georgia glanced out the window, fighting the hopeful thoughts she felt when she thought of Garrett, sitting in silence outside the Writers’ Museum, just at the right time for her to find him. Just at the right time, in all of Edinburgh, in all of Scotland – in all of the world, they found each other again. It had to mean something, right?

“God, it all sounds like one of my books.”

Cassie smiled, squeezing the arm rest as Heathrow drew up beneath them. “Hell yeah, wonder why. That’s why everyone loves you so much. Restore people’s faith in love and all that nonsense.”

And all that nonsense, Georgia thought.

Cassie fielded the disgruntled older woman as they collected their things from the overhead bin, and they headed out into the airport. Georgia had another long day ahead of her, filled with phone interviews, a short reading and signing that night, and finally, a morning talk show the next day. Then it was off to God knew where. She fought not to think about Edinburgh, about the pull she felt to turn around, get right back on a plane and go back to him.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket, and she pulled it out just as the driver took her overnight bag from her shoulder.

Text me when you land so I know you’re safe. Talk to you soon.

Her heart leapt at the sight of the words. He texted. He cared. He didn’t disappear.

This felt almost foreign.

Shit, she thought.

“What’s wrong?” Cassie asked.

Apparently, she’d said it aloud. “Nothing, just – it’s nothing.”

She pulled up his text and typed her response.

Landed safe.

She closed the phone, tucked it back into her pocket and climbed into the black sedan. The phone chimed to life before she’d even buckled her seat belt. Her stomach burst into rabid butterflies each time. She pulled her phone back out, averting her eyes from Cassie’s knowing smile.

Good. I’m glad.

She stared at the phone. It was simple enough, the words followed by a stings of x’s, the written sign of Scottish endearment. He probably wouldn’t text again for hours, maybe days. He’d gotten the information he needed. That’s what men did, right? Get the point across and then not think about you again for days –

A second text came in as she stared at the phone.

Will I sound like a stalker if I say I miss you already? xxxx

“Fuck.”

“Damn it, Gigi. What’s wrong?”

Georgia looked up to Cassie’s smiling face and her cheeks burned. How the hell was she going to play it cool with him texting her messages that made her face flush red and her stomach twist into knots? She pursed her lips tight and turned the phone for Cassie to see.

Cassie raised an eyebrow. “So when should I book your flight back to Edinburgh?”

Georgia fought not to smile from ear to ear.

“Wir lieben Ihre B
ü
cher. Ich hab heute Nacht der letzte gelesen.”

Georgia smiled at her interviewer, doing her best to pretend she wasn’t listening intently to a translator in her ear. The earpiece was jabbing her uncomfortably, but she’d smiled through old women describing anal sex, she could smile through this.

“Oh, I’m glad you like them,” she said, and the translation began before she’d finished her last word.

This was the extent of her day. Get up, skip breakfast, go to signing, spend hours at signing, catch quick lunch, sign some more, head across town, attend some dinner or be interviewed by some local talk show, magazine reporter, or college student writing a paper. Georgia worked hard to remain accessible, even as the crowds at her signing events began to grow beyond her comprehension. They were selling tickets for them now, making a bigger spectacle of her readings than she’d ever expected. Burgess called regularly to pressure her for pages, and Sarah Elise called often to talk international rights, audiobook rights, and finally film rights. She’d finally sold them for more money than she knew what to do with, and Sarah Elise was very appreciative of that fact.

Yet, despite her busy schedule, her hired assistant, and the pressure to produce more pages, Garrett was the most pressing thought in her mind. They’d texted since she left Edinburgh, simple small talk, some flirting from time to time. Yet, today his texts had grown more affectionate. So much so that she asked him if he was drunk at one point.

No, not drunk. Just curious when I’m going to see you again.

The text came in and left her with knots in her stomach. My god, she thought. He must be deranged.

“Well, of course he wants to see you, nerd,” Cassie had said upon hearing this conundrum. Still, Georgia felt almost confused by it. She’d just left a little over a week before. Sure, she fell asleep each night with a smile on her face thinking about him. Sure, his morning text was the highlight of every day, but yet the thought of it all meaning something more, the thought of him actually seeking her company – this was new. This was new, and it just about scared the shit out of her.

The text came in early one afternoon. She couldn’t answer. She didn’t know how to answer.

Rather than answer, she went about her day, being hustled across Berlin, Germany.

Even in German, the questions were very much the same –

Wo finden Sie Ihre Ideen?

Gibt es einen Mann?

Hat er sie geschoben, oder hat sie sprang?

The German interviewer asked the usual questions, and Georgia answered with her usual answers.

I don’t know, I guess I just have a great imagination.

Not yet, but I’ll let you know when I find him.

You’ll have to read the last book to find that out.

Georgia threw a German word in from time to time, doing her best to learn the language in a country that seemed as fond of her books as the English speaking world. She had to take extra time during her signing in Berlin, trying to decipher their handwriting and their unfamiliar names.

Did that Gunther have an umlaut over the ‘u’ in his name?

Even Cassie was of little help, relying on their hired translator through much of the day. By the time they made it back to the hotel, Georgia was exhausted and clutching her phone in wait of Garrett’s next text.

Despite the regularity of his texts, they still made her grin like an idiot.

You done with your day, Mein Schatz.

“What’s he saying now?”

Georgia smiled down at her phone. “I don’t know actually.”

I am. What does that mean?

He texted back, immediately.
You’re the one learning German. You tell me.

Once settled in their hotel, Cassie began to buzz with energy. She had been all day. “Are you wicked nervous? I’d be so wicked nervous.”

Cassie was pacing around their hotel suite, her jittery over-caffeinated nerves adding to the fervor of her excitement. Georgia was a little nervous, but she still had another ten minutes before the call was meant to come in.