Writing Mr. Right (24 page)
Authors: Michaela Wright
“Nae? Where’s this handsome lad ye speak of, then? I’ll kill ‘im.”
Georgia turned her face up to him, puckering her lips in wait. He obliged, planting a kiss on her lips. She made him plant two more before she released her hold on him. She sauntered over to the catering table and snatched up a tiny chocolate cupcake, flashing him a mischievous grin before turning for the door.
He watched her, smiling. “Ye alright, then?”
Georgia stopped in the doorway, turning to look around the room as though she might find her answer in the walls. “I am. I think I feel a bit bad for him, if I’m being honest.”
“Why’s that?”
She shrugged. “He’s getting a divorce -”
I knew it! Garrett thought.
“And he seemed to want more than a quick hello. Felt bad to say I didn’t have time.”
“Ye felt bad? What, ye still soft for him?” He asked.
“No. I think that’s why I felt bad.”
She smiled and turned down the hallway. Garrett’s phone buzzed in his pocket. She glanced back at him as he checked yet another text from his best friend.
“It’s Barry. He’s in town. Wants us to have drinks.”
Georgia smiled, giving a fist bump into the air as she turned for the door, as though rallying troops to war. “Then let’s get pished!”
Garrett laughed, but he wasn’t done. “If I hadnae been here, would ye have been tempted?”
She stopped just a few feet ahead of him, and glanced over her shoulder. “Not even a little bit.”
“No in the slightest?”
“No,” she said, shaking her head. She stared at him a moment too long, and her face brightened, betraying all her secrets. “I know where I belong now.”
She marched down the hallway, her heels echoing off the high walls with each step she took. Garrett watched the swagger of her hips and smiled. Then he hustled down the hallway to catch up.
August 29th
Two Months Earlier
The road outside the tattoo was busy with a few stragglers, people leaving as she was. Georgia made her way past the first few groups and started down
the hill. She stopped dead by the armory.
Across the cobblestone street, standing in the corner of a high stone building was Garrett, his hands tucked into the pockets of his hooded sweatshirt. Georgia stopped short, and just as always, the sight of him stilled her heart.
Don’t falter, Georgia. You can’t go through this again.
Garrett looked up and spotted her, and his eyes went bright. Still, there was something heavy in the way he smiled at her. He glanced up toward Edinburgh Castle, the pipes blaring down the road at them. He shot her a look, and the hidden depths behind it startled her.
Georgia swallowed and crossed the road to meet him. “I have to tell you something,” she said, and the words nearly caught in her throat.
“I need tae tell ye somat, as well.”
She swallowed. “Alright.”
“Nae, ye go first.”
Georgia’s stomach tightened. She didn’t want to go first. She didn’t want to say the words out loud. Still, he watched her face, waiting.
“I think I should probably go home.”
Garrett’s expression didn’t change, he simply stared at her, waiting for her to go on.
She turned at the gentle intensity of his look. “I don’t know what else to do.”
“Because I didnae wanna go tae the tattoo?”
“No, no. It’s not just that. It’s more -”
“Then tell me, please.”
Georgia’s face contorted. “I don’t know how. I don’t want to sound like I’m -”
She stopped, biting her lip as she scanned the storefronts, averting her eyes from him.
“Like what, Georgie. Just say it.”
She frowned at him. “Because I don’t think it’s a coincidence. I don’t think any of it is a coincidence. I don’t believe in coincidences, but that’s gotten me so fucking hurt before now.”
“Why do ye think I’m gonna hurt ye?”
“I don’t know! I just know that I’m fonder of you than I should be. I’ve spent so little time with you, but I feel like I know you so well, and I don’t. I don’t know you at all.”
Garrett didn’t move from his spot, tucked into the crook of a building away from the movement of people now filtering out of the tattoo.
“Ye know me well enough,” Garrett said, his hands still in his pockets.
“Yes, well – I’ve done this before.”
His eyebrows shot up. “Have ye now?”
“Yeah. I fell for someone, not because of how he felt or how he treated me, but because I thought he was – I thought he was a better man than he was -”
“Ye don’t think I’m a good man?”
“No, it’s not that. I just worry that I’m falling for an idea, not a real –”
“So, you’re only here because I remind ye of a character in a book ye wrote?”
She startled. “No! I felt this way the first day I met you. I didn’t know anything about you then.”
He gave a half laugh. “So I’ve
lost
points because I’ve a scar on me right hand?”
“No.”
Garrett leaned back against the wall, closing his eyes a moment. “Was his birthday August 13
th
as well, then?”
“Who?”
“The lad who hurt ye.”
Georgia shook her head. “No. He didn’t have similarities like you do.”
He shrugged. “Then, maybe it does mean somethin. Who am I tae say one way or the other?”
“Don’t say that. I can’t think like that.”
Garrett stepped toward her. “Do I make ye feel like he did?”
She gave a sad smile. “Not until today.”
He exhaled through pursed lips as a busking musician began to play a Led Zeppelin song on his acoustic guitar just down the road from them. “I didnae mean tae make ye feel bad, love. If ye let me make it up tae ye -”
“It doesn’t matter, Garrett. The issue isn’t with you. It’s me. I’ve fallen for a man that probably doesn’t exist.”
Garrett took her by the wrist and pulled her toward him, gently. “I exist, Georgia.”
She smiled at him, and tears rolled down both cheeks. “I know you do. It’s just not fair to you for me to put such expectations on you when we’ve only just met. Had I known you better, it might not have hurt so bad that you wouldn’t come with me tonight -”
He gave a sad smile. “There’s a reason why I didnae want tae go.”
She looked up at him, his green eyes reflecting the streetlights overhead. “It doesn’t matter. I know that -”
“It does. It matters,” he said. The crowds began to surge into the Royal Mile, filling the space around them. He pulled her further into the corner, leaving little space between them. Despite her proclamations, feeling him this close instantly weakened her resolve.
If you love a man that doesn’t exist, why does he feel this good? She thought.
“I hate the tattoo. I’ve hated the bloody thing my whole life.”
Georgia searched his face, but didn’t speak.
“My Mum and Dad took me when I was wee. We came down on the train from Inverness and were makin our way up the road here, me on my Dad’s shoulders. They were letting the crowds in, and as we got close, my Dad set me down to walk the rest of the way. I had people’s arses in my face, the crowd pushin around me. Decided I’d had enough of that and I snuck under everyone’s feet to get out of the crowd, found an open space, and turned, thinkin my Dad was right behind me. But he was gone.”
Georgia moved closer to him, listening to his story as the people in the street laughed and shuffled down the path.
“I called for im, but he didnae hear me. I was so small, and there were so many people there, I instantly knew I was lost. I was so far from home, I thought I’d never see my Mum or my Dad again. So I stood - right fuckin here - and I wailed.”
She swallowed, then Georgia looked around the road as the crowds dissipated. She closed her eyes.
“I think I was here for ten minutes, crying my eyes out before this little wee girl, just a few years older than me, came over. She put her arm around me and promised me that I was gonna be fine. That my Dad would find me if we just stayed put - that she wouldn’t leave me until he did.”
Georgia turned away from Garrett, her face contorting against her will. She didn’t want him to see her face, didn’t want him to see what it looked like when her insides ripped open.
“Her Dad found us first, went and found the polis. And the poor polis tried tae take me to find my Dad, but she’d promised he’d come back tae that spot. That he’d find me there. So I latched onto her for everything I had, screaming for her not tae let the man take me.”
A sob escaped her throat, and Garrett grabbed her, pulling her into his chest.
The feel of his arms around her left her helpless, and she began to shake against him, crying unhindered in his arms.
“That wee girl tore into that poor Polis, and when he tried to pull me away, she kicked him right in the shin.”
“I did not!”
Garrett squeezed her so tight then that she felt she might break. She wanted to. This story she’d heard told so many times, that every family member and friend had heard it; she secretly loved this story. Still, hearing it from Garrett’s lips changed it, somehow. Made it so much more important.
“Ye know, I remembered that wee girl my whole life. If someone teased another lad on the school yard, or if I saw a wee girl crying, I’d always go over and stand with em, because that’s what she did for me, and I wanted tae be
just
like her.”
Georgia took a breath, the fabric of Garrett’s sweatshirt damp under her cheek. “This is impossible.”
“Ye think it strange you’ve been fond of me since that day in Inverness? How do ye think I feel? I’ve been fond of ye since I was six years old.”
Garrett held her a moment, and the tears just kept coming. She couldn’t stop them. There were too many pieces of puzzle falling into place in his arms. The lifelong call to Scotland, the way it felt each time she arrived, the feeling that pulled her northward, to him – the words of her grandmother; that she’d already met the one she sought.
It wasn’t possible. None of this was possible.
And yet, here she was in his arms, the scar on his right hand just inches from her face.
“Pretty strange coincidence, ae?”
She burst out laughing in his arms, a strange combination of sad laughter and happy tears. He touched her face, lifting her chin to make her meet his gaze. He smiled, and his eyes were red and heavy. He brushed her hair behind her ear.
“So if ye think for a second that I’m gonna let ye leave, you’re mad.”
Her throat tightened in a half laugh that wanted desperately to be a sob. She stared up at him, and despite the city bustling around them, felt as though he was the only other person in the world.
She blew out through pursed lips, trying to settle herself. Finally, she licked her lips. “This isn’t helping my irrational affection.”
It was his turn to chuckle. “Irrational, indeed.”
They stood there on the very spot where they’d first met over twenty years earlier, swaying in each other’s arms, listening to the sounds Edinburgh around them, the Led Zeppelin playing busker now moving on to Neil Young.
Garrett released his hold on her and tugged at her hand, leading her away from the crook of an ancient church wall. She held his hand, bumping into him as they walked down the cobblestone streets, passing close enough to the busker for Georgia to drop a five pound note into his guitar case. They continued past the closed tourist shops, heading for the bridge and the walk back to Garrett’s apartment.
“I’m sorry I didnae go with ye to the tattoo. Feel like a twat now.”
Georgia turned to face him. “There’s always next year.”
He pulled her close, took her face in his hands and met her gaze with such intensity, she felt her bones quake. Yet she didn’t try to turn from him. She wanted to be seen. For the first time in her life, she wasn’t searching for cracks in the loving stare of another person.
He searched her face, as though committing every piece to memory. Then he smiled. “You’re mine, Victoria Mason.”
She smiled back, standing on her toes to kiss him before they turned toward the bridge.
“Pardon me, but did ye say Victoria Mason? Are ye Victoria Mason?”
Georgia turned to find a small brunette standing just behind them outside the bank. Georgia smiled. “He di – I am, yes.”
The younger woman furrowed her brow in embarrassment, but still rifled into her shoulder bag as she apologized. “I don’t mean to be a bother, but will ye sign my book?”
Georgia’s eyes went wide as she reached out to take the pen and paperback. It was only then that she realized the Edinburgh Book Festival was still in full swing. “Of course, of course.”
“Who do I sign it to?”
The woman smiled. “Frances, please.”
Garrett chuckled to himself, but Georgia just signed her name and handed the book back to the young woman.
Then they both turned for the west end of town, and headed home.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Michaela Wright is troubled by voices. That sounds creepy until you realize that A) they're all fictional, and B) many of them are sporting a Scottish Accent, so all in all, not too bad. Currently working on THE NAMESAKEN Series, Michaela lets her own romantic and mystic heart bleed into every story she tells. There is little she contemplates that doesn't veer towards fate - and making out, let's be honest.
Michaela is the type of person who names her cats Omen and Chapter, and watches more British Television than any self-respecting American ever should. When she isn't writing, she's performing aerial silks in her backyard or hula hooping, and on some occasions, sipping a Cider with friends until her own fake Scottish Accent comes out.
Michaela lives in Chelmsford, Massachusetts with her daughter.
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