Page 33 of The Artist and the Muse

I turned to her. We spoke about each other’s dating lives with the kind of tactful avoidance that most families reserved for sensitive subjects like politics or religion. My mom had never moved on aftermy dad’s passing, and I hadn’t told her about any guys I was seeing since Sergio dumped me. So why was she bringing it up now?

“Mom, is there something I need to be worried about? You weren’t diagnosed with a medical condition or something, were you? What’s with the heavy topics?”

“Oh, I guess I was thinking about what you told me the other day, about George,” she said. “Even if he isn’t the one for you, I’d still love to see you married and have some grandchildren—”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” I put up both hands, feeling like a crossing guard. All I needed was a whistle to halt the speeding car of her conversation. “I’ve never even been in a committed relationship in my life, and you suddenly want grandchildren? I thought you were enjoying retirement and living an easy life. Grandchildren wouldn’t be easy for meoryou to deal with. And when have I even shown an ounce of interest in getting married and having kids?”

She gave me a firmly exasperated expression that suggested she was tired of having this conversation with me. Ever since I’d come home in eighth grade with a bruise on my knuckles because I’d broken a boy’s nose after he’d tried to kiss me on Valentine’s Day, she’d heard my stern declaration of “I will never date! Boys are gross!”

So why was she bringing this up now? Yes, men weren’t all like Sergio Cavalli or Aaron Sanderson who’d tried to kiss me over ten years ago, but they weren’t great, either. There was a short supply of men. At least men Iwantedto date, who cared about me beyond the ego boost of being seen with a model at some ritzy nightclub.

“Georgia,” she said slowly, like she was approaching a wild animal. “I’m not dying of a medical condition, at least not one that I know of. Unless you count being alive. However, I worry that you may never find the kind of love that I shared with your father. Even though we may not have always seen eye to eye on everything, and even thoughhe passed at such a young age, I will always be glad I met him and had you.Always. No matter how hard things were over the years, I never regretted marrying him and giving birth to you. Love is what carries us through the darkest days of our lives, Georgia, and it isn’t always sunshine and rainbows. You know that.”

“Yes, and when things weren’t sunshine and rainbows, I’ve always had my family to lean on.” The words sounded false to me even when I said them with overcompensating fervour. My life didn’t feel like sunshine and rainbows right now. And the only person I was leaning on and telling the whole truth to was myself.

“Of course your family will always be there for you.” She squeezed me into her side. “But everyone’s growing up and forming their own families. Even Alex, bless his heart. I never thought he’d find anyone, but he has a wife and a son now. And Abby has her prince. I don’t want you to feel left out or left behind.”

“I don’t feel that way.” I pushed my shoulders back, sitting up straight. “I’m twenty-three, not forty-three. I love my life. I love being single. I mean, I live in New York. If I wanted to find a man, I could throw a brick through our apartment window and it’d come back an hour later with a note attached to it.”

She chuckled at my turn of phrase. “Yes, and the note would be an invoice for his broken window.”

“You know what I mean, Mom. If I really wanted to date someone and get married, I’d do it.”

“Then what’s holding you back from wanting it?” she challenged. “Because I knew you’d make a wonderful wife to the right—”

“Mom, I just don’t have room in my life for a relationship.”Or maybe I’ve purposely filled out to the brim so that there’s no room for thoughts of George Devereauxto get in.

“Okay, honey. I just want you to consider that I’m not going to be around forever,” she said. “And you are my only child.”

“Mom, are you trying to guilt-trip me into a relationship with the next man I meet?”

“Absolutely not. When you meet a man and bring him home to me, I want him to be a man you’re in love with, not any random man you’ve picked up off the street.” She looked affronted by the idea. “I want you to be with a man who’s good enough for you. Who’s perfect for you.”

“There are no perfect men,” I grumbled.

“I don’t expect him to be perfect. Lord knows your father wasn’t. But I want you to find the man who’s perfect foryou.”

How could I tell her the man who was perfect for me had already broken my heart? Because obviously, George Devereaux didn’t feel the same way about me.

Not after how our fake engagement had ended.

***

One Year Ago

“I know this sounds crazy, but… What if we got married?” The words rushed out of my lips before I could stop them.

George and I were in the screening room of the penthouse, after everyone else had already finished watching the movie—some cheesy action thriller. We’d been having a Steele family get-together with brunch and a movie that day. “Excuse me?”

I took a deep breath; it was too late to take my words back. Not that I was usually one for backtracking and mealy-mouthed words anyway. “I think that it would solve our problems.”

He blinked at me. “You’ll have to be more specific than that.”

Ever since we’d kissed in the guest room at the penthouse, we had kept a healthy amount of distance from each other. Which was easy when I lived with my mom and he was staying in the penthouse, since New York was so big that we could easily go days without seeing one another. But on family occasions, it was impossible to avoid him. He was Katerina’s brother, after all.

He'd told me, after we kissed, that he didn’t want to be with me unless we didn’t have to sneak around. He definitely hadn’t wanted to be with me while I was “dating” Sergio.

I wasn’t sure I was ready to be with any man in a real, vulnerable way. After all, I’d spent so many years of my life building my career and being independent that sharing that with someone felt like I’d become the very thing I’d always feared. Dependent on someone else. A burden.

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