Page 68 of The Artist and the Muse

As I paused in the lobby, I considered what I was going to say to her.The dean offered me a promotion, but I quit my job instead?I realized it was much too early for the brunch she’d suggested we have tomorrow morning, but I was already here. And I couldn’t stand the thought of waiting another minute to see her.

“I’m George Devereaux, here to see Georgia Philips,” I told the doorman.

He checked that I was on the list, then pushed the buzzer for me and after a few minutes of staticky conversation, he gestured me toward the elevator.

I had too much frantic energy to wait for the elevator, so I ran up the stairs instead, taking them two at a time. By the time I made it to her floor, I was beginning to regret my decision. I was panting, my quads burned, and I was sure my hair was a sweaty mess that kept falling into my eyes.

I knocked on her door anyway, catching my breath as I waited for her to answer.

“George, right? What a surprise,” said Georgia’s mom as she pulled the door open. “Georgia didn’t tell me to expect you.”

“It’s good to see you again, Auntie May.” She’d instructed me to call her that when we’d met at Katerina’s wedding.

“Of course. Let me take those beautiful flowers. And your coat.”

She put the lilies in a vase of water, hung up my coat, and ushered me into the small apartment. I realized I’d never seen where Georgia lived with her mom; I only had the address because Georgia had texted it to me once.

Still shivering slightly with the exhilaration of my run up the stairs and my resignation from my job, I shoved my hands in the pockets of my jeans to keep from fidgeting.

Looking around the apartment, I saw where Georgia got her eccentricity from. The walls were papered with a unique pattern that reminded me of Greek pottery, while the floor was tiled in a colourful mosaic. Art prints from various artists covered the walls, and to my surprise, I recognized some of them as my own.

“Would you like something to eat or drink?” Auntie May asked, appearing at my elbow like a flighty bird.

I nearly jumped. “I’d love a coffee if you have one.”

It would help me to be somewhat coherent when I saw Georgia again. Even if it was almost ten pm, I wanted to be wide awake when we were together.

“Georgia’s taking a nap. She must be jet-lagged; she was up all afternoon cooking.” She poured water into the coffee pot and let it boil.

I chuckled, surprised to hear that. Still, it was good to hear that the same woman who’d made pasta with me in Italy still enjoyed making her own meals. “I didn’t know she still enjoyed cooking.”

“She’s always been a wonderful cook.” Auntie May took out a mug that readDON’T TALK TO ME UNTIL I’VE HAD COFFEEand handed it to me. “I’m surprised you didn’t know that about her.”

“I’m sure there are plenty of things you could tell me about her that I don’t know yet.” I was surprised by how sincere the words felt. I wanted to sit in this cozily furnished apartment with Georgia’s mom, drinking coffee and talking about what Georgia had been like as a child or what her favourite movies were. I wanted to be part of her family, as she was part of mine.

Auntie May ushered me toward the couch after pouring me a cup of coffee. “I’m sure there will be plenty of time for us all to get to know one another.”

She had a knowing glint in her eye. Maybe Georgia had told her more about me than I thought.

Georgia exited her bedroom, still in her travelling clothes—purple sweatpants and a matching violet NYU hoodie. Though her outfit was far more rumpled now than they had been when we’d parted ways at the airport hours ago. When her eyes fixed on me, all grogginess disappeared, replaced by shock as her eyes widened and jaw dropped. “You’realive?”

I blinked, surprised by her strong reaction. “Last time I checked, we got off the same plane.”

“Yeah. But you haven’t answered any of my calls or messages.” She planted a hand on her hip.

I pulled out my phone, only to realize now that I had several unread messages. Clearly I’d missed them in my haste to pick up Pastor Tony’s call. “You’re never going to believe this.”

Auntie May padded into the kitchen and returned a few moments later with another coffee, handing it to her daughter.

Georgia took the coffee, kissed her mom on the cheek, then said, “Could we get some privacy, Mom?”

“Of course. I’ll be in the kitchen.”

I fiddled with a throw pillow while Georgia perched on the arm of the sofa. “What am I ‘never going to believe,’ George?”

“Please hear me out. I’m sorry I didn’t answer my phone, but I’ve had a crazy day.” I filled her in on how I’d been interrogated at the airport, Sebastian’s rescue, the meeting with the Dean, and how my phone had died and I’d plugged it in right when Pastor Tony had called.

Georgia blinked. “Wow. That story is so unbelievable that Ialmostwant to believe it.”

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