Page 8 of Beautiful Desire
“God forbid, the spoiled rich boy has to do anything outside of his comfort zone,” I mutter, rolling my eyes.
My dad scoffs. “Georgia, that’s enough. All I was getting at is, Grace doesn’t have the space for a guest, and your brother and sister-in-law just had their first child. It’s going to be an adjustment for them, and they deserve some privacy as they find their footings as new parents.”
“Let me make sure I’m hearing this correctly,” I mutter, blood whooshing in my ears and the vein in my neck throbbing. “Since I’m the only child-free one, this falls on me. Is that right?”
“Not because you’re child-free, honey.” My father heaves another sigh, lips pursed, as if me being upset about this is unwarranted. Like I’m being selfish and unreasonable. “Fletcher’s about to enter the final year of his program, and with that, he’s going to need a quiet place to study. Your house simply makes the most sense, Georgie.”
“Because I don’t have children running around,” I grit out, annoyance flaring in my chest.
Denise stands up and walks over to me, placing her hand on my shoulder as she looks me in the eye, no doubt trying to reason with me. “Georgia, we know this is last minute and a huge ask, and we one hundred percent should’ve discussed it with you before anything was decided, and for that, I’m so, so sorry. It honestly slipped my mind. Can you do this favor for us, please, honey? It would help your father and I out a great deal, and it really shouldn’t be that long. I’m hoping the remodel can get back on track quickly.”
My left eye twitches, and everything inside me is screaming at me to tell them no, that it’s not my problem, but I won’t do that. I can’t.
“Fine,” I mutter. “Not like y’all gave me much of a choice.”
No matter how pissed off I am about this, no matter how inconvenient it’s going to be to share my house with this entitled, man-child, brat of a human, and no matter how much I love my privacy and space, family helps one another out. It’s been something my parents have drilled into mine and my siblings’ heads since we were little. And lord knows, my dad and stepmom have been there for me a time or two, when I’m sure it wasn’t the most convenient for them.Family is there for one another, no matter what. It’s what we live by.
Giving me a tight hug, my stepmom whispers in my ear, “Have I told you lately you’re my favorite?” She pulls back and cups my cheeks in her warm, soft hands, a wide grin brightening her face.
Even though I smile back, I can’t help but grumble, “Doesn’t mean I’m happy about any of this.”
After Fletcher hugs his mom, we walk back to my car, but the fucking prick beats me there, sliding in the passenger seat before I have a chance to force him in the back again. He tosses the boxes haphazardly on the seat behind him.
He’s a literal fucking child.
I roll my eyes, climbing behind the wheel as I start the car. “This is only temporary,” I grit out, slicing my gaze in his direction. “And therewillbe rules.”
“Yeah, yeah. Relax,Georgie,”he drawls, the nickname my family calls me spoken in a mocking, high-pitch tone. The cocky, pleased-with-himself smirk on his face is infuriating. “I don’t know what you’re so worked up about anyway. I’m fucking pleasant to live with. You should be thanking me.”
“Doubtful,” I huff out.
Back to the bookstore, I give Fletcher the key to my house—albeit begrudgingly—and make a mental note to get a new one made sometime this week after work before heading inside. As soon as I drop my purse off in my office, I pull out my phone and send a long, bitchy text to Alden, telling him that his son living with me was never part of our agreement, and he needs to come up with a plan B quickly.
His response comes not even two minutes later, and it’s every bit as arrogant and douchey as I knew it would be.
Alden: There will be no plan B, Georgia. If you want to keep your bookstore, you’ll do it.
Like father, like son.
Fuck my life.
3
Georgia
“It’s bullshit,” I mutter before bringing the newly refilled glass of Caymus to my lips and taking a sip. “How is it fair that I’m expected to take on this god-awful burden, simply because I’m the only one who doesn’t have kids?”
“They definitely should’ve talked to you about it first,” Charley says, riding my hate train like the lovely, supportive friend she is.
Sometimes all you really need when you have a bad day is to bitch and moan to your besties and hear them validate your frustration. Okay, maybe that’s notallI need to get over this, but it certainly helps, which is exactly why I sent an SOS to the group chat I have with Charley and my sisters this afternoon after my brief exchange with Alden Arrogant Prick St. James. By the time I got home from work and changed into pajamas, they were here with snacks and wine, ready to listen. I don’t know what I’d do without the three of them.
“I’m sorry, Georg,” Gemma offers, a sympathetic look on her face. She’s the closest in age to me out of my three siblings, andthe most level-headed one out of all of us. “You’re absolutely right; it’s not fair to expect that from you. I feel awful. If Rosie was a little older, I’d be more than happy to offer him a room at my house.”
“You don’t need to feel awful,” I murmur. “It’s not your fault. It’s nobody’s fault, except Fletcher’s. And maybe his jackass of a father.”
“Where is he, anyway?” Grace asks, brows pinched as she glances down the hall. “Fletcher, that is.”
“Fuck if I know. He was gone when I got home. Hopefully, he drove his happy ass back to where he came from.”
