TWENTY
georgia girl
ansley
It was hard to believe that, only a couple of months earlier, Jack and I had been planning to take his recently renovated boat out on its maiden voyage. Together. I had been hesitant when he came back to Peachtree Bluff. Maybe “hesitant” was putting it mildly. More like terrified. I didn’t know what he wanted, but I did know he was the one person who had the power to ruin everything I had built with my children and devastate my relationships with them forever.
Sure, Caroline and Sloane knew they came from a “sperm donor.” They knew Emerson was a miracle child, the only one who was biologically Carter’s. But they didn’t know their mother nearly died from a rare infection from her first Intrauterine Insemination, and that, from then on out, Carter wouldn’t hear of fertility treatments of any kind. Knowing they came from an anonymous sperm donor is quite different from knowing their father is actually the man who lives beside them, their mother’s first love—or that he got her pregnant the regular way, not via a syringe. That was a lot of things not to know. A few of those things, namely that Jack was their biological father, I really wanted them to know. But in my time, in my way.
That was why, I reminded myself for the millionth time, I could not be with Jack. I had been standing at his front door, holding my sketchbook for ten minutes, trying to gear myself up to go in. Biscuit was getting impatient at my feet, her little tail thumping on the wood of the front porch. She whined up at me. “I know,” I said. “But it’s complicated. You’re a dog. You wouldn’t understand.”
Just then, the door flew open. I screamed, Biscuit barked, and I expected to hear Jack’s gasp, but that wasn’t what I heard at all. Instead, there was a second scream, one of the busty blond variety named after the state in which we currently resided. She was wearing a cocktail dress.
People do not wear cocktail dresses at nine in the morning unless they are, as my girls would say, doing the walk of shame. “Oh, hi, Ansley,” she said, grinning at me like she’d been caught with her hand in the cookie jar.
My cookie jar.
I was having trouble regulating my breath. I was trying to smile and make my face look normal. Did my face look normal? I looked down at Biscuit, who was looking up at me. She started barking in Georgia’s direction, which is how I knew once and for all that my face did not, in fact, look normal.
Georgia had her clutch in one hand and a wrap in the other. I knew I should say something, but I didn’t know what.
“I had a flat tire,” she said quickly.
“How convenient,” I said under my breath.
“What?”
Her hair was mussed in the back—definitely sex hair.
I could hear Jack’s footsteps coming down the hall, and I turned to leave. I couldn’t possibly face him. Not now. I should have been sad or heartbroken, but really, I was just mad. So, no, we couldn’t be together. I couldn’t have him. But I didn’t want her to have him either. It was a mature reaction.
Unfortunately, as I turned to walk down the porch steps, so did Georgia. “Jack and I went to the most splendid benefit last night. And then we got home, and I had a flat tire. And he was in no position to drive, so . . .”
“We have got to get Uber here,” I said, an edge to my voice.
She laughed delightedly and winked at me. “Oh, I hope we don’t.”
“Ansley?” I heard Jack call from the porch as if there were any question about who I was.
I wanted to pretend that I didn’t hear him. But I couldn’t. I was twenty feet in front of him. I turned and held up my sketchbook. “I’ll come back later,” I said, relieved to see he was at least dressed. “When you’re not so busy.”
“Now is good,” he said. “Come on in.”
“I can’t wait to see what you do to the place, Ansley,” Georgia called.
Maybe it was only in my mind, but the way she said it made me feel like she wanted me to get it all spruced up so she could move right in. I would die. I would die if he were living beside me with another woman, and then my children would have yet another tragedy to deal with. A vision of them sobbing in black at my funeral crossed my mind.
No. I couldn’t die. I didn’t have time.
The last thing I wanted was to walk through that front door, but I had to.
“You’re upset,” Jack said.
How perceptive. “No,” I said. “Not upset.”
Of course I was upset. How could I not be upset? I loved him, for heaven’s sake. He named his boat after me, and now he was having sleepovers with Realtors from Atlanta named Georgia. But I had no right to be upset. I had told him it wasn’t time for us to be together, that I had to focus on my girls. And all of that was true. When you loved someone, weren’t you supposed to want good things for them? I took a deep breath, swallowed my pride, and said, “You deserve to be happy.”
A flicker of emotion passed across his face. Certainly not his usual amusement. Something more like defeat, but maybe I was reading too much into it. “OK,” he said.
I handed him my sketchbook. “Please be careful with it,” I said. “You can look these over. I’ll come get it later.”
He tossed the book onto the ratty sofa, sitting on the green carpet, in the dimly lit room. This place was awful. But it wasn’t going to be. It was going to be pure luxury. For Jack. And Georgia.
“That’s exactly what I meant when I said to be careful.”
Jack rolled his eyes.
I felt like we were working up to some sort of fight, but there was nothing to fight about, nothing to fight for. We were over, and I just needed to go. “I’ll come get these in a few days,” I said.
“Ansley, come on,” he said.
I stopped, my hand on the doorknob, and turned.
“I know you’re not OK,” he said. “You don’t have to pretend. I get it. We can’t be together, but that doesn’t mean you have to be OK that I’m with someone else. I would hate that, roles reversed.”
I got that same feeling I get when I haven’t eaten in too long, and the room went wobbly. So he was with her. I knew what it looked like and I knew that, flat tire or no, if you wanted to get home, you could figure out a way to get home. But a part of me was hoping it wasn’t what it seemed. Maybe she had slept in the guest room. Maybe he didn’t have feelings for her. Maybe he didn’t find her attractive or interesting. Although, what red-blooded, straight American male wouldn’t find her attractive or interesting I wasn’t sure.
“Biscuit,” I called. No paws thumped across the floor. “Biscuit, I’m leaving right now. Come on!”
No paws. Really? I save the dog from a life of off-brand kibble at the shelter and this is the thanks I get? I guess I should have known she wouldn’t want to leave the house where she had spent her entire life up until a month ago.
I opened the door. “Send her into my yard when you find her.”
“Ansley,” he said. “Wait.”
But I couldn’t wait. All I could think about standing there was her. That woman in this house that, truth be told, I had envisioned myself living in from the moment I saw his car pull into the driveway.
I controlled my tears right up until the moment I walked through my front door. Mom was sitting quietly in the living room, the morning sun streaming through the windows. This was, without a doubt, the best time of day in this room.
She didn’t say anything, just patted the spot beside her. I noticed that even her hand looked frailer. “Honey, I know this is all a lot on you.”
She didn’t say anything more, but the unspoken truth that lingered between us was that she was glad about the decision she’d made.
I shook my head. “It’s not. It’s fine. It’s just that Jack is right there, and now there’s this other woman. And I realize I sound like a teenager.”
She smiled at me and patted my hand. “Darling,” she said, “we are teenagers forever when it comes to matters of the heart.”
She shifted on the couch and stood up slowly, a pained expression on her face.
I didn’t help, and I didn’t follow her out of the room. I was trying to give her space, allow her the independence she had asked me for.
Jack burst through my front door, tiny Biscuit tucked under his arm. “Did it occur to you to tell me that your mother is dying? Was that something you thought I might need to know?”
My stomach clenched, and I put my finger to my mouth. But before I could answer, my mother called, “We’re all dying, Jack. Some of us just sooner than others.”
Mom walked back into the living room, and Jack looked embarrassed. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I shouldn’t have blurted that out like that.”
Mom raised her eyebrow. “You shouldn’t have strange women spend the night, either. Look like a damned fool. It’s totally inappropriate.” Mom paused. “Your mother would want me to tell you that.”
Then she turned so only I could see, winked at me, and headed back toward her room. I stifled my laugh.
Jack shook his head. “Again, she seems fine to me.”
“Jack,” I whispered. “Mom hasn’t told the girls yet.”
He looked shocked. “Well, she’d better hurry the hell up. I just found out because two ladies I don’t even know were standing in front of your house saying what a shame it was and speculating whether the house would be for sale. The whole town is talking.”
When was the whole town not talking?
“But I get it now,” Jack said. “I forgive you.”
I could feel anger rising in my chest. “Forgive me? For what?”
He stepped closer, making my heart race in a way I wished it wouldn’t. “I forgive you for not being able to be with me the way I want to be with you. I’ve thought about it, and I understand it a little more now. You have a lot to lose.”
“I have a lot to gain, too,” I said quietly.
He raised his eyebrow. “What does that mean?”
I shrugged, right as Sloane walked through the doorway. I studied her face to make sure she hadn’t overheard anything about her grandmother. She definitely hadn’t.
“Hey, Jack,” she said. She kissed Biscuit on the head, taking her from Jack. “Hey there, little Biscuit girl. Let’s go play in the backyard with the kids.”
Biscuit started panting like she knew she was in for some fun.
“I’d better go play with the kids too,” I said. “Doesn’t matter. You have Georgia now.”
Jack shook his head. “I do,” he said. “But let’s not forget that I came back to Georgia for a different girl.”
As I listened to the laughter outside the back door, I realized I’d come back to Georgia for a different girl too. Three of them, in fact.