Page 51 of Georgia On My Mind (Southern Promises)

“No. You need to stop! Alcohol isn’t going to help. You need to know, Clay and I talked to Mom and Dad about everything. We tried to call you several times, but you wouldn’t pick up. Dad knows the truth. It was a complete misunderstanding. He’s very sorry, and he feels bad about upsetting Gia—”

“Oh, really?” Hart interrupted. “Fuck him. Fuck all of you judgmental mother-fuckers.”

Katie sat on the edge of the bed and shook her head in despair. “You’re drunk, Hart. You don’t mean that.”

“Oh, yes I do.” He struggled to get up on the opposite side of the bed to get away from her, but when he tried to stand, he wobbled before falling forward. He attempted to brace himself as he hit the ground, one of his hands landing on a large shard of broken glass. This sent him into a rage.

“Goddammit!” Rocking back and forth on the floor with his eyes clamped shut, he tried to keep his pent-up emotions in check, but it was no use. He screamed at the top of his lungs, the stress of everything pouring out in a tirade of swear words. It wasn’t the pain in his palm, the deep gash bleeding profusely; it was the unbearable ache of knowing he had lost her. He had no control over anything, and she was gone.

Katie scurried out of the room, slamming the door, and leaving him alone in a pile of rubble. His face was wet with tears, his lungs burning, trying to catch his breath from screaming. How was he going to fix this? How was he going to win her back?

Leaning against the wall, he gripped his wrist and held his injured hand against his chest. The door opened again, and Clay entered.

“Let me see, man,” he requested calmly, kneeling in front of him.

Hart limply shoved his bloody hand out. Clay held it in his own and started wrapping it up in a small towel he pulled out of his back pocket, trying to stop the bleeding. “You need to go wash this off. It looks deep too. We need to get you to the ER to get it checked out. You’re probably going to need some stitches.”

Katie re-entered the room with a broom and dustpan, not saying a word. He watched her clean up the glass, shame filling his entire being. She didn’t deserve his outburst. Both of them were trying to help. Pulling his wrapped-up hand back into his chest, he eyed Clay poignantly.

“What do I do now?” The misery in his voice caused the couple to look sorrowfully at each other.

Clay put his hand on Hart’s shoulder. “Just breathe, man. Things will look different tomorrow when you’re rested…and sober.”

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Hunched over his laptop, going over the latest commission figures, Hart didn’t hear the door to his office open and was startled to see a small, blonde girl peek over the top of his desk.

“Well, hello!” He sat back in his office chair and smiled. “Jennifer, am I right?”

The little girl smiled. “You remembered my name.”

“I did.” He stood, walked around the desk, and kneeled to be eye level with her. “What are you doing here?”

Jennifer was dressed up in a pink pinafore and white patent-leather shoes. A giant pink bow completed the outfit. Before she could tell him why she was there, two more little girls in the same exact outfit scurried in, giggling uncontrollably. Hart stood and put his hands on his hips, not sure what to make of the little girl interruption.

“Oh, god. I’m so sorry, Mr. Parker,” Jessica lamented, scrambling inside after them with baby Jo-Jo on her hip. The poor woman looked frazzled.

“No, it’s okay. And please, you can call me Hart at the office. We’re not that formal here. Thanks for stopping in to say, ‘hello.’” He grinned back at the girls. “Hello.”

“Hello,” they echoed, cheekily looking up at him. Julia didn’t say a word.

“Are you here visiting your daddy?” he asked, aware they were looking at his bandaged hand.

“What happened to you?” Jilly asked innocently.

Hart bit his lip and looked at his hand wrapped in a black hand-brace. He ended up needing twenty-five stitches after the horrible night he fell apart. He wasn’t about to tell them the truth. “Well, I got a boo-boo and had to get a few stitches. It’ll be fine in a couple of weeks.”

“Does it hurt?” Jennifer asked, her little brow furrowed with concern.

“Not anymore. The doctor fixed me right up.” He looked over at Jessica who offered him a tiny smile. “How are you doing?”

“Oh, you know. Surviving,” she laughed nervously, shifting the baby on her hip. “Stephen’s late. It’s my birthday, and he asked me what I wanted. I told him I wanted a family dinner. He’s so busy; we had to make it a family lunch.” She nodded to herself. “Not exactly what I wanted, but we’ll still manage to have fun.”

Hart nodded sympathetically before looking at the girls. “Well, you all look very pretty. I’m sure your daddy is going to be very proud showing off his beautiful family.”

Jessica inhaled sharply and bit her lower lip. “Let’s hope so.” She placed her hand on the oldest girl’s shoulder. “Come on now. Let’s wait for Daddy in his office.” Herding the girls to the door, she spoke over her shoulder. “It was nice to see you again, Hart. Have a great weekend!”

“You do the same. Happy birthday!” The door clicked shut. Slowly, he walked back to his desk and sat in the chair, looking at his hand. It was Jessica Kaufman’s birthday—and it was opening night of the musical Oklahoma at the City Springs Theatre. Hart had made reservations for himself the day after Gia left, hoping by now they would be reunited. No such luck.

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