Holiday Hoax: Chapter 18

Three Days Later

Things only feel more confusing between Georgia and me. In front of my family, she’s relaxed. There’s no boundary between us. Yet when we’re alone, things become strained.

I’ve asked her if I’ve done something wrong, but she keeps saying no. I even stopped trying anything in the bedroom with her. Yet every morning, we wake up with one of our bodies draped over the other. And it’s getting harder to resist my urge to do anything with her.

No woman’s ever given me blue balls for so long.

Still, she’s made it clear where she draws the line, and something is cautioning me not to try to move her over it.

The last few days have been a whirlwind of wedding planning. I’ve done way more than I ever anticipated, but like everything I do with Georgia, she makes it fun.

My work is piling up. I keep delegating more things to my staff that I normally would handle. Yet I’m so distracted by wanting to spend more time with her that it’s not even on my mind most of the time.

Plus, there’s the issue that I got things wrong. I can’t escape the nagging voice in my head. Now, I’m hoping I can correct it.

I step inside the jewelry store my family always uses. I came here the day after our date. I spent a few hours looking at different rings, feeling so out of my comfort zone that our family jeweler, Bobby, told me to sit down. He asked me a ton of things about Georgia. Then he pulled a dozen different diamonds from his safe. None of them were anything like what I gave her. They were smaller. Simpler. Each diamond was nothing to sneeze at and flawless, yet more of what I guessed is her style.

After I chose the diamond, he drew a design. It was so perfect, my heart almost stopped.

He called me this morning to tell me it was finished. I raced over here, unable to wait any longer to see it.

Bobby booms, ‘Sebastian.’ He pulls a box out of the drawer and removes the lid.

My pulse quickens. I stare at the triangle rose-cut diamond set on a 24-carat gold band. It’s something else I noticed about Georgia. She always wears yellow gold. It was another thing I got wrong. The platinum band on her seemed dull next to her cheerful attitude.

The ring isn’t flashy, but it’s elegant. The triangle is set sideways, so the one side of the band has one prong, and the other side has two. I can envision it on her finger, plus it’s flatter, so it won’t interfere with her baking as much as the current one.

‘It’s perfect,’ I state, hoping she loves it as much as I think she will. I can’t get this wrong a second time. I curse myself again for not even taking a moment to think about what might be good for Georgia. But then again, I didn’t really know her.

I still won’t claim to know her. There’s so much more I want to know about her. She’s only let me into a tidbit of her life, but everything about her fascinates me.

I pay Bobby and leave. When I return to the ranch, I grab the shopping bag I tossed into the truck.

When I was strolling down Main Street, there was a boutique with a mannequin wearing a jacket. I instantly thought of Georgia and had to buy it for her.

The moment I step into the house, I pull the coat out of the bag. I hang it up in the closet. I go into the kitchen, where I know she’ll be.

Georgia insisted on baking the wedding cake, and Isabella and Emma wanted to help. She said it would be fun, so they woke up at the crack of dawn to start. Nobody was allowed in the kitchen. Breakfast was already in the dining room on covered plates when I returned from my workout. I could hear Georgia, Isabella, and Emma giggling when I left.

The feeling I can’t seem to escape, and I don’t remember ever having before this week, reappears when I lay eyes on Georgia. The three of them are all standing over the wedding cake. Four tiers are stacked one on top of the other in an off-white color.

The kitchen’s a mess. Winter-white pansies, blue forget-me-nots, and pale-pink cyclamen flowers from the secret garden are everywhere. Twigs, pine cones, and little wooden hearts that she had the girls help her design last night litter the counter. They took a burning tool and engraved them. One has S and G on it. Another displays ‘Just Married.’

A while passes, but I can’t tear my eyes off her. Her apron has flour on it, and there’s a little mark of frosting on her cheek. My nieces have a lot more on them.

She takes a forget-me-not and breaks the stem. She places it on the top tier, then says, ‘This is a trial run. On Saturday, we’ll need to add fresh flowers and replace these.’

‘Can I put one on?’ Isabella asks.

‘Sure. You can too, Emma,’ Georgia states, handing both of them a flower.

She’ll be an amazing mom.

I can see her with a dozen kids.

Georgia observes them, then glances up. She beams at me, and my pulse races quicker. ‘Hey!’

‘So, that’s what you needed the tree for,’ I assert, pointing at the wooden base of the cake.

Georgia asked Alexander to cut her an eighteen-inch diameter circle from one of the logs she chose last night. She wouldn’t tell us what it was for, claiming it was a secret between her and the girls. They helped her put clear lacquer on it before they went to bed, and all three of them were tight-lipped.

She chirps, ‘It looks cool, right?’

I answer honestly, ‘I love it. It’s going to fit perfectly with the rest of the decor.’

Relief floods her face, which I find odd. Everything she does is perfect, so it’s surprising to me she would question anything, especially when it involves baking. She asks, ‘What have you been doing all day?’

Nervous flutters kick off in my gut. I admit, ‘I had to go to town for some stuff. I’m going to go work for a few hours, but are you up for a walk later in the afternoon? We can go check out what the workers have been doing in the garden.’

Her face lights up. ‘Sure, I’d love to go see it.’

‘Great.’ I stare at her another moment, then tear my eyes off her and leave the room.

When I get to my father’s office, I shut the blinds so I can’t see everything the workers are doing to get the garden ready for the wedding. I have to work. I somehow force myself to concentrate on what I need to do and get way more done than I anticipated.

At four o’clock, my mind begins wandering again with visions of Georgia’s smiling face. I decide I’ve done enough and leave to find her. She’s near the front hall when I walk in, wearing the cowboy boots I got her. She never seems to take them off, which makes me happy. It’s always a reminder that I got one thing right.

She announces, ‘There you are. I was going to find you.’

My heart pounds faster. It’s innocent, but I like that she was thinking about me. I open the closet and remove the new coat I bought for her. It’s a slim-cut, button-up, light denim blue jacket. It has a cream Sherpa lining and an oversized collar that lays flat on the shoulders. ‘I got this for you when I was in town.’

She gazes at it, then puts her hand over the material. ‘It’s really soft.’

‘So you like it?’ I ask, wanting more than ever for her to say yes, and to know that I got one more thing right about her.

She smiles. ‘Of course! I love it.’

I give myself an internal high five, then hold the jacket out for her to slip into. She does, and I lead her outside.

We don’t talk on the way to the secret garden. My stomach continues to flip, and I motion for her to go through the door first.

She steps in and freezes. ‘Wow!’

I glance around and admit, ‘It looks amazing.’

The last of the workers have left. She studies everything, and as much as I’m impressed by the landscape, she’s the only thing I can look at.

‘They got it done so quickly,’ she mutters.

‘I’m having the glass ceiling washed a few hours before the ceremony to remove any new residue,’ I inform her. It had a thorough cleaning, and the inserts were placed on the sides so that it’s not as cold, but I’m going to make sure everything’s sparkling clean.

‘This is insane,’ she says, peering around again.

Dark wooden chairs have been placed in two sections on a wooden floor with a cream satin runner between them. After the ceremony, the chairs will be removed and the space will turn into a dance floor. The whole setup is situated in front of the ivy wall.

The oversized hanging beds in the back corners have clear lights strung around the chains. They’re always there. My mom had them installed when we were little. The cream-colored mattresses are spotless, and new pillows add an extra pop of color.

There are more lights on the tree trunks, and lanterns hang across the yard. Heat lamps are strategically placed around the garden. Bars and food tables line both sides of the hedge walls. Circular dinner tables are set from the middle of the room to the back. The right front corner has an area for a band, and the left front corner has one for a DJ.

‘I can’t get over this,’ Georgia states.

‘It does look great,’ I agree.

‘It’s perfect,’ she claims.

Yes! I got it right.

It’s not perfect though. She made it clear it’ll never be the perfect day for her because she’s marrying me.

I shrug off the comments in my head that have plagued me since she told me why this could never be the perfect wedding for her.

The lights and the heaters flip on. Soft music begins to play through the surround sound.

She laughs, asking, ‘Is this garden haunted?’

I chuckle. ‘No, everything’s on timers. I scheduled the music to give you the overall vibe.’

She bites her lip, continuing to be fascinated by it all. Then she arches her eyebrow and focuses on me.

My anxiety takes off again. I order, ‘Follow me.’ I lead her to one of the oversized beds and suggest, ‘Let’s sit here and take it all in.’

‘You don’t have to ask me twice!’

I chuckle and point to the heater. ‘It’s going to get hot. Let me help you out of your coat.’

She allows me, and I set it on the end of the bed, along with my coat.

She climbs onto the mattress and then I grab her calf, hold it in the air, and start to unzip her boot.

She pulls her leg toward her, questioning, ‘What are you doing?’

‘Just chill. It’s comfier this way. Trust me,’ I assert.

She relaxes, and I take off her boots and then my own. I lie back against the pillows and slide my arm around her.

Thankfully, she doesn’t resist.

We sit in silence for a few moments. Her sugary-rose perfume teases me until I feel like I’ll break out in a sweat.

She adds, ‘I can’t get over how incredible this is.’

‘I think you’re incredible,’ I blurt out, and my stomach flips faster.

She slowly meets my eye.

My pulse beats so hard against my ears that I wonder if she can hear it. To buy some time, I ask, ‘Is there anything you don’t like?’

She doesn’t tear her gaze from mine as she shakes her head. ‘No, this is more than I could have ever imagined.’

Relief fills me, then dies as my nerves overpower it. I grab her hand and claim, ‘I know something that’s wrong.’

She furrows her eyebrows, reassesses the garden, and asks, ‘What? Everything is perfect.’

‘No, it’s not,’ I insist.

She scrunches her face, trying to figure out what isn’t perfect.

I summon my courage and assert, ‘I can’t marry you if it’s not right.’

Her face scrunches in confusion. She admits, ‘I can’t figure it out.’

I slide the oversized diamond so wrong for her off her finger.

‘What are you doing?’

‘Do what you want with this.’ I slip it into her coat pocket, then turn back toward her. I reach into my jeans, pull the new ring out, and curl my fist around it. It takes me several breaths to gather my thoughts. The speech I thought about all week becomes a mishmash of words. I scold myself for not being more prepared, even though I thought I was, and then I open my fist.

Her eyes dart between the ring and me until she’s gaping.

I state, ‘I was an idiot getting you that other ring. It’s not you. I should’ve known it wouldn’t be you. All I saw were the women in my past, but you aren’t like them, are you?’

She swallows hard, remaining quiet, and I think my heart will pound out of my chest.

I push a lock of her blonde hair behind her ear and continue, ‘I chose to marry you because I knew everyone here would fall for you. I knew you’d fit in, and deep down, I knew you weren’t like anyone I’d ever met. So, I don’t know why I didn’t put any effort into something so important.’

‘Sebastian, it’s okay,’ she claims.

I firmly state, ‘No, it’s not. You deserve a ring that represents you, not something that screams for attention. You don’t need to scream, do you? You walk into a room and everyone naturally sees you. They’re drawn to you. Yet you aren’t vain or selfish or have any hidden agendas. You’re genuine, and that’s really hard to find.’

Her eyes tear up, and her lip slightly trembles. She glances away, blinks hard, then relocks her gaze with mine, questioning, ‘Why are you telling me this?’

I don’t know how to answer her. There are too many emotions running through me. It’s been like this ever since I met her, if I’m being honest, but especially the last few days.

However, one of them is fear. I’m unsure what I’m trying to tell her, and I wish I could just man up and figure it out. But my insecurities get the best of me.

So I hold up the ring and say, ‘Because I want to, and I hope I didn’t get this one wrong, because if I did, just tell me. I’ll go back and—’

‘I love it,’ she interjects.

‘You do?’ I question, just to make sure.

‘Yes, it’s perfect,’ she declares.

Happiness fills me. It’s not arrogance like I often feel when I do something correctly. It’s a genuine joy that I actually got something right that makes her happy.

I slide it on her finger, and her eyes dart between me and the ring. I want to kiss her. I move closer to her, but then I freeze an inch from her lips.

I don’t need to push myself on her. I do it as often as I can in front of my family, and I don’t know if she likes it or not. I think she likes kissing me, but I never know if it’s just an act for my family or not. She’s not let me kiss her when we’ve been alone since our date night.

I chicken out and retreat. I focus on the sky, wishing I knew the right way to act around her. It hits me how much I want her to like me. But not just like me as a person.

I want her to like me as a man.

Yet everything I’ve done is so backward. And I’m so far in, I don’t know how to fix it or what I want from her going forward once this is over.

Can there even be anything once January 2nd hits?

She bites her lip, staring at me. I can feel it. Awkward silence mingles with tension and hangs in the air.

I release a stress-filled breath and then decide to put my cards on the table however they might fall. I turn toward her and say, ‘Georgia, I—’

She surprises me when she puts her fingers over my lips, then straddles my body. She cups my cheeks, gazing at me with her glistening eyes as if she’s looking for my soul. She’s never looked at me so intensely before, and it chokes me up. She leans closer and whispers, ‘Thank you.’

I don’t think I’ve ever felt so nervous in my life. I can barely reply, ‘You’re welcome.’

More silence grows between us, with our breath merging and our hearts pumping harder. I stay frozen, unable to make a move, scared that if I do that, this moment will end, and whatever’s going on between us will be ruined.

Then she breaks the tension, softly pressing her lips to mine in the sweetest of kisses.

There’s no more holding back. I’m a man, and she’s the woman I need to have.