Page 39 of Georgia On My Mind (Southern Promises)

She closed her eyes tightly, wishing him away with all her might, hoping this was all a nightmare, and she was going to wake up soon. Keeping her eyes shut as if her life depended on it, she felt her belongings pulled from her grasp and could hear muffled voices in the room before strong hands pulled her up and carried her out. The thumping of the club dissipated, and she felt a soft blanket cover her in the backseat of a vehicle. When the car door slammed shut, she slumped in the seat and finally took in a breath, peeking through slit eyes out the window. The White Satin was getting smaller and smaller as the vehicle drove away. She continued to shudder uncontrollably, not sure if it was the temperature making her cold or if the pill she had taken was having an adverse effect on her system. Maybe it was the fact that she had been caught in yet another lie that she couldn’t explain her way out of or maybe because she had been saved, yet again by Hartford Parker. Whatever it was, fear, relief, drugs, or temperature, she felt like she was on the verge of a meltdown.

Strong arms wrapped around her, making her gasp. She turned in alarm toward Hart’s familiar handsome face.

“Shh, Gia. I’m here. You’re okay.”

Burying her head into his shoulder, she swallowed hard. “I think I’m gonna be sick…” Her voice was barely audible in her reply.

“Hey man! Pull over, so she doesn’t throw up all over the back seat!” he yelled at the driver.

The SUV immediately came to a screeching halt. Hart threw open the door and quickly dragged her body over his lap so she could vomit on the street below. His warm hands were in her hair holding the edges back from her mouth as she gasped and retched. Gia started to sob, gripping his thigh, holding on for dear life. When she finally finished and could catch a breath, her head began to spin before everything went black.

Chapter Twenty-One

The bed was soft and the faint sound of birds happily chirping could be heard coming from an open window. Gia swallowed before opening her eyes to the familiar bedroom. Quickly, she looked to the side, but Hart wasn’t there. She sighed, her heart heavy with snapshots coming to mind from the previous night. How could she ever talk her way out of this? She had made a terrible, terrible mistake—one that her relationship with Hart would probably not survive.

Looking down at herself, she noticed she was wearing a sleeping shirt and underwear. Gone was the ruffled shirt and G-string from the night before. Someone must have dressed her. That someone must have been Hart. Her memory of the evening was fuzzy as she tried to recollect all that had happened, and she internally chastised herself for taking the Valium Charity had offered. It totally knocked her out. She should have known better. Staring out the window at the beautiful spring morning, a wave of regret came over her as she remembered Hart being in the audience and yelling for her to stop. Earlier, he had told her he was going to be with some guys celebrating their buddy Mitch’s upcoming wedding. What were the chances they’d end up at the one strip club where she was performing? The odds were crazy, making her shake her head. If he was there, that meant his friends were there too and saw the whole thing unfold. Hanging her head in shame, she felt the weight of the world on her shoulders, knowing she had made a complete fool of herself; knowing she would be judged forever more because of one dreadful decision. There was no way someone like Hartford Parker would continue to date someone like her.

Her entire body felt like she had the flu as she got out of the bed and went into the bathroom. Staring at her reflection in the mirror, looking at her teased hair and the heavy show makeup remaining from the night before disgusted her. Her lipstick smudged across her cheek, and the eyeliner had muddled under her blue eyes, making her look very Goth. After scrubbing her face clean and brushing her hair, she packed up her toiletries and pulled her clothes out of the drawers, stuffing them into her suitcases she had stored in the walk-in closet. She knew she couldn’t stay there any longer and wondered if she would even be able to teach her Saturday afternoon dance classes with the way she was feeling. Eyeing her purse on a chair, she rummaged through it to find her phone, intent on calling Ethan to see if he could help her out. She hit the home button on her cell phone and gasped.

I love you Gia. I just wanted you to know that. I can’t wait to see you tonight so I can tell you in person.

Her eyes welled with tears, and she swiped at them so she could read the text message over and over again.

Hart loved her.

Pursing her lips, she sat on the bed sniffling, the timing of his text taking her aback. It had come through an hour before her performance last night. If she had just kept her phone out in the dressing room and looked at his message, everything would not have gone so terribly wrong. If she had just looked at her fucking phone, she would have seen his text and wouldn’t have gone through with her performance. He loved her. It was exactly what she had wanted to hear.

She looked out the window again, trying to decide what to do next. The thought of seeing Hart made her uneasy. What would she say? What would he say? Surely, he had changed his mind about loving someone like her after last night, especially after embarrassing him in front of his closest friends. She tugged on some yoga pants and dared to open the door.

“Hart?” Her voice croaked when she spoke. There was no answer.

She padded down the stairs carefully and poked her head around the corner. There was no sign of him in the kitchen area. Looking further down the hallway, she could see him talking on his phone on the back porch. One hand was on his hip and he was pacing. Boldly, she opened the screen door and stepped out, his eyes widening at the sight of her.

“Yes, text me your address, and I’ll be right over, okay?” He paused, looking her up and down, his expression deadpan. “No, Jessica. I don’t mind. And please, don’t call 9-1-1. I’m on my way.” He rolled his eyes and started nodding. “Okay, okay. See you in a few. Bye.”

Clicking off his phone, he put both hands on his hips and let out a huff of air. “We gotta go.” He grabbed her hand, pulling her into the living room.

“Wha… what do you mean? Where? What’s going on?”

“I’ll tell you in the car. Get some shoes on. We gotta move fast!”

Gia sprinted up the stairs and grabbed her flip-flops and purse, being sure to lock the front door on her way out. Hart was already in his Mercedes, revving the engine as she got in.

“Buckle up,” he requested, quickly pulling out of the condo complex. Gia did as she was told, realizing she was still wearing her sleeping shirt with no bra on. Wherever it was they were going, she prayed it was casual.

“So, I told you my boss is away this weekend with his mistress and gave his wife my number in case of an emergency.”

“Yeah? What’s going on?”

Hart clutched the steering wheel of the car speeding down the four-lane highway. She noticed his right cheek was stained with a sinister purple bruise and immediately felt remorse. “One of her daughters got her head caught in their staircase railing. She’s stuck.”

Gia couldn’t help but let out a chuckle. “What?”

Hart glanced at her and grinned. “Yeah. Her head is stuck. Jessica called me in a panic asking if she should call 9-1-1.”

“Oh, my god.”

“I know, right? I told her to hold tight. She doesn’t live that far, only a few miles up Highway 141 in the St. Ives subdivision. Pretty nice area. I’m sure the Kaufman’s have a great big house.” He turned and looked at her again. “I’m sorry this was so abrupt. How are you feeling?”

---