Page 9 of Beautiful Mess

It didn’t get my mind off either, but it did push me to spill my guts about Conway as I bawled in that special and dramatic way only drunk girls can.

Finishing the rest of my wine, I look over at Charley, feeling my cheeks heat already.Even fourteen years later, this is humiliating.“Well, you know how I came home after I caught Cole?” She nods. “In a horrible attempt at making myself feel better, I drove out to that bar in downtown Westbrook with a plan to find a hot older man to have a one-night stand with.”

Charley’s eyebrows pinch together. “Because you’retotallythe one-night stand type of chick.”

“No, I’m most certainly not.” I chuckle. “But it seemed like a good idea at the time. I was heartbroken; my long-term relationship with the guy I lost my virginity to had shattered right in front of me. The idea of being everything some hot, established, and maybe wealthy man would want that night felt good. Like it might’ve healed the machete size gash in my chest.”

“Hold up.” Holding up a finger, Charley tilts her head for a moment before her eyes go wide. “Wait, did you fuck his dad? Please tell me you fucked his dad, Grace!”

Georgia snorts. “That’s what I said!”

“No,” I scoff. “I did not fuck his dad. My gosh, you guys.”

“Okay, then what?”

“I got kind of drunk, Conway happened to be there, and he insisted on driving me home.”

“Well, that’s kind of sweet,” Charley offers.

“Sure, until we parked in front of my parents’ house, and I threw myself at him like a freaking drunk, desperate idiot, and he practically threw me off him! First, Cole didn’t want me, then hisdadturned me down too? Kind of a major blow to a twenty-year-old girl’s ego.”

“But you said you were drunk, right?”

“Yes.”

“Grace, I’m sure he was just being a gentleman and not wanting to take advantage of you when you were drunk and legally not able to consent.” Leaning forward, she rests her elbows on her knees. “And more than that, he’s known you since you were way younger. It must’ve been a shock having you kiss him. I highly doubt it was anything more than that.”

I groan, eyes closing for a moment. “I don’t care, it was humiliating.”

My gaze connects with Gemma’s, and she’s giving me that sweet, empathetic mom smile she does. She and I are both mothers, but she’s no doubt the mother of the group. “Babe, you know I love you, but I think it’s time to let go of the grudge.” I open my mouth to respond, but she beats me to it. “All it’s doing is making you all tense and pissed off when he’s around. Your daughters are best friends, so it’s safe to say you’re not getting rid of him any time soon. This could be an opportunity to become more friendly and comfortable with him, at least.”

Biting down on my molars, I don’t say anything. Logically, I know she’s right. Me holding on to this for fourteen years is excessive, but there’s some tiny part of me who can’t let go of how it felt getting my heartbroken by Cole. It was one of the most traumatic moments in my life, and it changed me irrevocably.

Huffing out an exaggerated breath, I say, “Can we please talk about something more fun? Georgia!” I snap my fingers. “Dating updates, stat.”

I’ve always felt I was the romantic of our group, and Georgia is the exact opposite. All fun, no strings is, and always has been, her motto, and I’ve always admired her for it. Many times over the several years, I’ve wished I could be as chill and unattached as her. It would make dating a hell of a lot easier. For me, sex and feelings go hand in hand. I can’t have one without the other. But for my sister, feelings and commitment are the quickest ways to get her to dry up.

How nice it must be to have sex without getting attached.

At almost ten years older than me, I’ve always looked up to Georgia. She was the cool, confident, drop-dead gorgeous girl, who could easily make anybody laugh. She has the voluptuous curves and the huge boobs I’ve never had but always wanted. Hell, up until I had kids, Ibarelyneeded a bra, they were so small. Georgia is who I always wanted to be when I was younger. She was everything I wasn’t. And it would seem, at thirty-four years old, I’m still wishing I could be a little more like her.

Confident. Self-assured. Comfortable in her own skin and with her own sexuality. Georgia is unabashedly her truest self always, and I admire her for that.

“You know that book convention I went to last weekend in Charlotte?” she asks before finishing off her wine.

I nod. Georgia owns a cute romance bookstore a few minutes away from my bakery, and she’s always traveling to bookish events to do somewhat of a pop-up bookstore on sight. All of us siblings have always been readers, so it’s cool to see her do.

“There was this couple that kept walking past my booth during the event, and I didn’t really think anything of it at first. Figured the woman was trying to talk her husband or boyfriend into buying some books from my table.”

There’s a glint in her eye that tells me that wasn’t the case.

“I’m listening,” I murmur with a grin. I can confidently speak for Gemma and Charley when I say Georgia’s dating stories are the highlight of all of our days. No two stories are ever the same, nor are they ever boring.

“Toward the end of the event, the woman finally approached my booth,” Georgia offers. “But the guy was nowhere to be found. She asked if I wanted to grab a drink with her after I was finished cleaning up, and I said sure. Maybe the boyfriend, or whoever he was, went out with friends or something.”

“He didn’t go out with friends, did he?” Charley asks.

“Oh, I’m sure he did,” Georgia chuffs. “But after a few cocktails, the woman and I decided to head back up to her suite, where he met us.”

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