Page 72 of Taming Georgia

“Okay.”

I turn my attention to Jasper and give him his treats while rubbing his head. “Good job, boy. Good job,” I tell him many times. Holding my hand at my side, I say, “Come.”

He follows on command.

“What are we doing after dinner?” she questions.

“I’m not sure. Why?”

“Can I stay the night at your place tonight?”

“I was hoping you would,” I admit.

“Okay. I was thinking that maybe I could bring Mila, too. We can hang out all night and snuggle as a good-bye.”

“You don’t think that will make it harder on you?”

“Probably.” Sorrow lines her voice. “But I still want to.”

“It’s your call.”

She slides her fingers through mine as she walks beside me. Normally, I wouldn’t allow us to hold hands in front of the guys. The display of affection feels out of place here at work. But I don’t mind now. Georgia’s sad, and our connection provides her some peace. It’s surreal that I have the ability to give someone comfort. I’m not a bad person—I know that—but I’m never in this position. I’ve never felt this way for someone and had those same feelings reciprocated.

I just feel good. For the first time in a long time, I’m completely happy. Each morning when I wake up next to Georgia is like the first time. I simply stare, convincing myself that she’s real, that we’re real.

I’m not the praying type, and yet I find myself constantly beseeching a higher power to make her stay, to make us work, to make what we have truly real.

One thing that’s always rang true for me in life is that if it feels too good to be true, it’s because it is. I just pray that this is the first time where that saying doesn’t apply. I don’t ask for much in life, but I’m asking for Georgia.

Selfish as the request might be, I need her to be mine.

19

“There’s never been a time in my life where every aspect of it was perfect, but at this very second, I know what it’s like to exist among perfection.”—Georgia Wright

I loudly blow my nose into the tissue and grab another one to dry my eyes. I’m bawling uncontrollably over a TV show. My favorite character in my new guilty pleasure is currently being murdered by the love of his life.

Like, what the hell, writers?

“Life’s not fair; that’s for sure,” I say as I watch as he takes his last breath, my vision blurred with tears.

Since I’ve been with Wyatt, I haven’t had time to continue my TV marathon, and today’s a perfect day for it. Paige is out of state, visiting her boyfriend, and Wyatt’s at the rescue, working, like always. I’m usually there with him. I love being at the shelter. But I needed to take today off.

Mila’s adopters are picking her up, and I just can’t be there for it. The last thing the young couple who’s adopting their first dog needs is a blubbering mess tainting their experience.

My heart aches, and I don’t know if the pain will ever diminish. I blame myself. She could’ve been mine from the start if I had committed.

But adopting her would’ve held implications I wasn’t ready for. It would’ve bound me to a grown-up lifestyle, one where I couldn’t take off for another country on a whim.

“I’m an idiot,” I say aloud to no one.

I let Mila go to another family when I know that no one will love her more than I do all because I’m afraid to settle down.

Why am I so afraid?

My passport sits on the end table beside my bed. It’s a constant reminder of my ability to leave. Oddly enough, it gives me comfort. But why? I don’t want to be anywhere else other than where I am. Yet I leave out items, such as my passport, that let me know that I could leave if I wanted to.

There’s a knock at the door, and then Wyatt’s voice sounds from the foyer. “Hey, Peaches?”

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