Chapter 1
I’M SORRY, GEORGIA, IT’S just, just . . .”
I waited, staring at his handsome face and too white teeth, feeling an overwhelming sense of déjà vu. I chafed my suddenly sweating palms against my jeans and told myself it wasn’t possible.
This was how the conversation started when Harris broke up with me months ago. The only difference in this scenario was that this guy wasn’t Harris. Not even close. Joshua wasn’t my boyfriend. We’d been on four dates. Four. So why was he looking at me with that familiar pitying expression? And speaking in that condescending tone? And using those words?
This couldn’t be happening. Not again.
I shifted on the plush leather seat of his car and played with my pearl necklace, wishing suddenly I was anywhere but here. Since our first date, I’d known there weren’t any sparks, but I agreed to a second date and a third because he was the kind of guy I wanted. On paper anyway. A senior at Dartford, he was already accepted into optometry school. He came from a good family. His father was a church deacon. Joshua volunteered at the local food bank. I couldn’t have found a better guy. I convinced myself that chemistry wasn’t everything. Lasting relationships weren’t built on chemistry. Common interests. Like goals. Similar backgrounds. That’s what counted.
My phone rang inside my purse. I quickly peeked inside. Mom. I pushed it to silent and returned to the hot awkwardness of the moment. I’d call her back later. After whatever this was wrapped up. I refused to think of it as a breakup. I wasn’t invested enough.
I wasn’t being dumped again.
Joshua leaned in closer, sliding his arm along the back of my seat. Like he had to get closer to impart whatever he was about to say. A cloud of expensive-smelling cologne engulfed me, stinging my nostrils.
“I’m sorry, Georgia,” he uttered, making a tsking sound with his tongue. “You’ve got marriage written all over your face.”
My cheeks went hot.
He continued, “I’m just not ready for that kind of commitment yet.”
I pulled back until the back of my head bumped the cold glass of the passenger window. Suddenly the pasta primavera I’d had for dinner felt like acid in my stomach. I turned my gaze to stare out the windshield at the lawn of dead grass bordering my dorm. The last of the snow had melted a few weeks ago, and the grass hadn’t quite recovered yet.
I took a long, pained blink and focused on his face again. “Okay,” I began, clearing my throat. “Let’s forget the fact that we’re not even officially a ‘thing,’ but . . . are you breaking up with me?”
He nodded sagely. “Yeah. I am.”
“Is this because I haven’t slept with you?” God knew he’d been trying since the first date. After dinner tonight, he’d invited me back to his apartment. I’d declined. Had he known he was “dumping” me then? If I had slept with him, would he still be “breaking up” with me? Jerk.
His face flushed, his tanned skin turning ruddy. “You have a high opinion of yourself.”
“No more than you do.” I snorted. “I mean, you think I want to marry you after four dates.” I shook my head. “Ego, much?”
“Look. You told me yourself that you were with your last boyfriend since high school and you thought you were going to marry the guy.” He shook his head and gave me that pitying look again. “I’m not up for being his replacement.”
I fumbled for the door handle. “I’m not looking for a replacement.”
“You should lighten up, Georgia.” He gave my shoulder an obnoxious squeeze. I looked back at him. “C’mon. You’re a pretty girl. Stop being so serious and have some fun.”