Page 64 of Forged By Sacrifice

“That’s pretty pessimistic of you.”

“Realistic. I’ve lived and breathed D.C. for nine years.”

She’d been working on the Hill since she’d started college at Georgetown. She’d worked with our grandfather since she was a stick of a kid with barely any curves and braces on her teeth that she’d gotten, kicking and screaming, her senior year of high school.

“All I’m saying,” she continued, “is that you being happy and fulfilled is just as important as anything you can do for the world.”

I didn’t agree, but I wasn’t going to argue with her. Changing the world so future generations—so Baby Wyatt, Baby Hannah, and our niece and nephews—had a better world waiting for them…there wasn’t much more important than that. I’d give up just about anything in order to make that happen.

? ? ?

When Georgie got back to the apartment on Friday, Dani and I had already loaded the car and were antsy to leave the D.C. traffic behind us. Georgie said something about wanting to change, and I looked at her cotton sundress that showed off all her curves and told her the truth.

“You look gorgeous; you don’t need to change.”

She dragged her hand over her ponytail. It was still smooth and straight as always, but she seemed to waffle, and for a moment, I was afraid she wouldn’t agree to go with us, so I just grabbed her suitcase and headed toward the door.

When we got down to the garage, I led the way to the black Cadillac SUV in the spot next to Dani’s Mini.

“Whose car is this?” Georgie asked.

“Granddad’s. He took the train when he went home. Said we could use it,” I told her.

Dani, who’d been ahead of us, opened the back passenger door and climbed in.

“I can sit in the back,” Georgie said.

“Nope. I’m planning on putting on the audiobook I’ve been waiting all summer to listen to. I have no desire to keep Mac company. I may even fall asleep.”

I snorted, but I also wanted to hug my sister because she was giving Georgie and me exactly what we needed.

We were quiet, NPR on the radio, while I negotiated the streets of D.C. and got us onto the freeway. Dani, true to her word, had huge headphones on, with her seat tilted back, and looked to be almost asleep before we’d been on the road for more than twenty minutes.

“So…who all will be there this weekend?” Georgie asked, and I sensed not only curiosity but also nervousness in her voice.

“Lord. Pretty much everyone. There’s an annual tennis tournament at the club, and our family has been playing and placing in it for as long as I can remember. We’ll all play tomorrow at the house to see who gets to represent the Whittakers at the club on Sunday.”

“You have tennis courts at your house?”

I nodded. “Do you play?”

She shook her head and teased. “No. There wasn’t a tennis court in the building above the salon, sorry.”

“You’ve never played at all?”

“Nope.”

My brain went directly to thoughts of teaching her to play tennis. Of being able to touch her while I did. I couldn’t let my body go very far down that road, though. Not while sitting in a car where she would be able to see, very clearly, where my brain and body had gone.

“Well, I can definitely teach you, but they won’t let you near the courts on Sunday, then,” I told her.

“Thank goodness.”

We rode for a few minutes before she brought me back to her original question. “Who’s everyone?”

“Right. Sorry. Granddad and Grandma will be at their place, which is just down the road, but they’ll, more than likely, spend most of the day with us. My oldest sister, Gabi, lives in Wilmington with her husband, Vinnie, and their two rugrats, Troy and Sam. But even though that’s hardly a fifteen-minute drive, they’ll probably camp out in the guesthouse as long as Vinnie doesn’t have to go back and take care of the restaurant.”

“That’s right. You mentioned they own a restaurant.”

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