Walk of Shame
Page 44

I relax slightly. Andrew doesn’t know it, but he just got saved from a very aggressive Georgie Watkins friend-matchmaking campaign.
Oh, who are we kidding? I’m going to launch one of those anyway. Everyone needs new friends.
Pam starts to clean up the cutting board, and I jump out of my chair. “Don’t you dare,” I say. “You sit.”
“I’m saying yes, mainly because you’re young and springy and have more energy than me,” she says with a wink.
“Okay, one more question,” I say, keeping my voice casual as I squirt some dish soap onto the kitchen knife.
She sighs. “Andrew’s going to kill me, huh?”
“He’ll never know. Girlfriends? Anyone serious?”
“Wow, you really don’t know each other, huh?”
I give her a look over my shoulder. “You’ve known him a couple of decades. How easy do you think he is to get to know?”
“Good point,” she says, pursing her lips. “So, girlfriends . . . oh yes.”
I spin around, sudsy water dripping all over the floor. “You don’t have to say it like that!”
She laughs. “You asked!”
“Because I thought you were going to tell me he was a nerd! Practically celibate!”
She laughs harder. “Your face right now, sweetie . . . Okay, it was like this. High school, not so much with the ladies. As I said, he was two years younger, and sixteen-year-old girls aren’t so much into the fourteen-year-old boy who aces every single test.”
“But?” I ask, my teeth clenched.
“In college, though,” she continues, “things changed. Suddenly that two-year difference didn’t bug the girls quite so much. Suddenly smart was sexy. Didn’t hurt that he had a late growth spurt and discovered the gym.”
I dry my hands on the towel. “I can’t believe this. I’m dating a playboy.”
“Yes and no. In college he was definitely . . . well, he didn’t tell me. I was an old married lady to him back then. But, putting the pieces together, I’d say there were a lot more nightly companions than there were serious girlfriends.”
“What about after college?” I ask, both dying to know and not wanting to know.
“He settled a bit in law school. Had one pretty serious girlfriend, although they split after graduation when she went back home to Texas, if I’m remembering correctly.”
“Pam. Do me a solid and tell me he’s been a monk since then?”
She merely smiles. “Like I said, he doesn’t tell me much.”
I sigh and turn back to the sink.
The sound of the front door opening prevents any more snooping into Andrew’s history. Just as well. I’m not sure I want to hear much more about his love life.
I tense a little as I glance toward him, worried how he’ll feel about seeing me, a homemade dinner, and his sister-in-law all in the same room.
Not to worry. He doesn’t even look at me. Andrew sets down his briefcase and duffel bag, then goes straight for Pam, pulling her close and kissing the side of her head. “Good to see you, Pammy.”
Pammy. I can’t get a Georgie, but she can get a Pammy? Oh well. At least I know there’s hope for him yet.
“Thanks for making the time to see me,” she says, giving his chest a sisterly little pat.
“Always. I’m sorry I wasn’t here to meet you.”
“Wasn’t a problem. I made friends with your girl Georgie here.”
I bite my lip a little, wondering how he feels about his family calling me his Georgie, and I brace for the chilly, back off eye contact.
His face is unsmiling when he looks at me—shocker—but his gaze is warm, and maybe a little . . . happy?
“Georgiana,” he says.
“Andy.”
He glances at the mess on the counter. “What did you do to my kitchen?”
“I was cooking, but it went badly. Should have stuck with soup. Pam had to rescue me. I didn’t realize you had plans, and now I’m intruding and leaving a mess.”
“Sounds like fairly typical Georgiana Watkins,” he says. But he’s smiling. Oh, how far we’ve come.
“I can clean up,” Pam tells me. “It’s the least I can do for spoiling your surprise. What I need to talk about won’t take long, and then you guys can get right back to your dinner.”
A clear dismissal, but an understandable one. If she came all the way into a city she doesn’t even like in order to talk with her brother-in-law, it’s got to be about something important. And perhaps not something she wants to talk about in front of a stranger.
“I’ll take you up on that,” I say, smiling to reassure her I’m not offended at being kicked out. “I’d tell you to leave the mess so I can get to it later, but I think our tidy Andrew might have a little heart attack.”
“How does this even happen?” Andrew says, gesturing toward a rogue piece of cheese that is nowhere near the cutting board or the package, and then running a finger through a coating of flour on the counter.
I reach up and pat his cheek. “You should probably accept now that being in my orbit can get messy.”
“News flash: I learned that months ago,” he mutters, swiping the flour-tipped finger down my nose. But his fingers close around my wrist before I can flit away, and he pulls me close and brushes a soft kiss over my lips. “Text you later?”
I nod, pressing my lips together and wishing I could kiss him again. All night, really.
He winks, as though reading my thoughts, and I have to step back, because I’m about two seconds away from jumping him.
“Nice to meet you, Pam,” I say, wiping off the flour on my nose. “Thanks again for your rescue mission with the chicken.”
“My pleasure, Georgie.”
“See?” I say, looking at Andrew and pointing at Pam as I walk backward to the front door. “Georgie. Your sister-in-law got it right on the first try. By the way, Pam, did you know Andrew and I both like the color red? Don’t you think that means we’re soul mates?”
“Goodbye, Georgiana,” Andrew says, his voice exasperated, as he pulls a wineglass for himself down from the cabinet.
I open the door to his apartment and blow him a kiss. Which he neither catches nor returns, but he’s smiling.
And I’m starting to freak out—just a little—that I like being a part of his life. I like it way too much.