Page 35 of Taming Georgia

“I don’t want to.”

“You know the thing about forgiveness?” she asks.

I play along. “No, E. What’s the thing?”

“Only the strong can forgive, and it won’t change the past. But it can drastically change the future.”

“My future’s just fine,” I tell her as she starts to leave the office.

She turns to me right before she exits. “Not from what I see.” She throws in her little Ethel jab and then walks out.

I groan loudly.

I hate when she does that.

She’s always attempting to enlighten me with her wisdom, but I rarely want to hear it. Sometimes, I want to tell her that she’s not my mother. But I would never be that cruel. I’m a dick, but I’m not heartless…especially where Ethel is concerned. As much as she annoys me, she is the closest person I have to family, and I love her.

I grab my jacket and head toward the kennels. Georgia is with Hope and her puppies. It’s been a week since Hope delivered the puppies, and Georgia has pretty much lived here since, much to my annoyance. Though with Georgia’s help, the runt is strong enough to carry her own when she’s in with the rest of the puppies, and Hope is no longer rejecting her.

“Grab your coat, Peaches.”

She kisses the little brown runt on the forehead and sets her down with the rest of the puppies.

“Where are we going?” She jumps up.

“Out. Help me load the bags up.”

I thread my arm through the handles of the duffel bags lined up against the wall. Georgia puts on her coat and does the same. We put the bags in the back of my truck.

“Did you see that Mila’s eyes are open? She’s the first one to open her eyes. Isn’t that awesome?” She hops into the truck and shuts the door.

“Who in the hell is Mila?” I ask her as I push the button to start the engine.

“The puppy you saved, the runt. I named her Milagros, which means miracle in Spanish. I call her Mila for short.”

I look over as she snaps her seat belt and smiles.

“She’s a little miracle, isn’t she?”

“You speak Spanish now? Is there anything you can’t do?” I sneer, pulling out into traffic.

“Befriend you, for one, but that’s more to do with you than me. And, yes, I speak enough to get by. We lived in Spain for a little bit when I was younger.”

“You moved around a lot.”

“Yeah, we did. It’s why I’m so charming. I’ve learned to get along with pretty much anyone. Well, except for you.” She chuckles. “You kind of learn to fit in anywhere when you’re constantly moving.”

“Where’d you go after you left Ann Arbor junior year?” I ask a question I’ve been wondering for years.

One day, I was calling her a stuck-up bitch, and the next, she was gone. I always questioned where she went.

“Hillsborough. It’s in California in the San Francisco Bay Area.”

“Why’d you move so suddenly?”

She shrugs. “That was our life. Dad bought a company, and we moved. Then, we’d move again when he sold that one to buy another. He went where the money went, and we followed.”

“Didn’t that get old?” I can’t stop the questions from escaping my mouth like vomit.

---