Landline

Georgie stood up in slow motion.

Neal. King of the grand gesture. Neal who crossed the desert and found his way through the mountains to reach her.

Neal.

Georgie’s key fob was on the counter, where Heather had left it. She grabbed it.

What else did she need? Driver’s license, credit card, phone—all in the car. She could sneak out the garage door and leave the house locked up. She checked on the puppies on her way out.

Georgie could do this.

There was nothing else left for her to do.

CHAPTER 30

Georgie ducked under the garage door as it was closing.

“You shouldn’t do that,” someone said. “It’s dangerous.”

She turned—Seth was sitting on the front steps.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

He shook his head. “Just trying to figure out what to say to you when I knock on the door. I’m expecting you to be out of your mind. Possibly high. Definitely dressed like a lunatic. I might not say anything at all; I might just knock you unconscious—I’ll need something heavy, I was thinking about that old yellow phone of yours—and drag you back to the office.”

Georgie took a few steps toward him. He was wearing dark, sharply cuffed jeans and pointy oxfords, with a green cardigan that Bing Crosby could have worn to sing “White Christmas.”

She looked up into his eyes. He looked awful.

“I don’t suppose you were just heading in to work,” he said.

She shook her head.

“Or that you’ve been writing.”

She watched him.

“I haven’t been writing,” Seth said—then laughed. It was a real laugh, even though it sounded painful. He shoved his hands in his hip pockets and looked out at the lawn. “That’s not true, actually. . . . I’ve been writing you a lot of e-mails. ‘Hey, Georgie, what’s up?’ ‘Hey, Georgie, is this funny?’ ‘Hey, Georgie, I can’t do this by myself. I’ve never even tried before, and now I know that I can’t, and it’s terrible.’” He looked over at her. “Hey. Georgie.”

“Hey,” she said.

They held each other’s eyes, like they were holding on to something hot. Seth was the first to look away.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

He didn’t answer.

She took another step forward. “We can reschedule the meeting. Maher Jafari likes us.”

“I’m not sure we can,” he said. “I’m not sure it matters.”

“It matters.”

He jerked his head back to her. “Then when should we reschedule it, Georgie? Have you penciled in next week to stop losing your mind? How’s January look for Neal? Think he might find some time to cut you some slack?”

“Seth, don’t . . .”

He stood up from the stairs and walked toward her. “Don’t what? Talk about Neal? Should I just pretend everything’s okay? Like you do?”

“You don’t understand.”

He raised his hands, frustrated. “Who understands better than me? I’ve been there since the beginning. Right there.”

“I can’t talk about this now. I have to go.” She turned away, but Seth grabbed her arm and held it.

His voice was soft. “Wait.”

Georgie stopped and looked back at him.

“I’ve been thinking,” he said. “You asked me if I would try to change anything if I could go back to the past. And I told you that I would—and I would—but I didn’t tell you . . .” He let out a loud breath. “Georgie, maybe it’s not supposed to be like this, you know?”

She shook her head. “No.”

“I always think about that Halloween. When Neal was such a dick to you? And you asked me to take you home, and I did. And I—I left you there alone. Maybe I wasn’t supposed to. Maybe I was supposed to stay.”

“No. Seth . . .”

“Maybe we’re not supposed to be this way, Georgie.”

“No.”

“How do you know?” He squeezed her arm. “You’re not happy. I’m not happy.”

“You usually seem happy.”

“Maybe compared to you.”

“No,” she said. “You seem genuinely happy.”

“You only see me when I’m with you.”

Georgie inhaled faintly, then gently pulled her arm away.

“I . . .” Seth drew his hands back into his pockets. “This is the only relationship I’ve ever been able to make work. This one. I love you, Georgie.”

The words pushed her eyes closed.

She opened them. “But you’re not in love with me.”

Seth laughed again, just as painfully. “It’s been so long since that was an option, I don’t even know anymore. . . . I know it kills me to see you like this.”

His collar was caught in his sweater. She reached up and smoothed it out.

“It kills me,” she said, “to see you like this.”

They were standing close, face-to-face, looking in each other’s eyes. In all the times they’d stood next to each other, Georgie was pretty sure they’d never stood exactly here.

“That’s what I’d change,” Seth said. “If I could go back.”

“We can’t go back,” she whispered.

“I love you,” he said.

She nodded.

He leaned closer. “I need to hear you say it.”

Georgie didn’t look away; she thought it through, and finally said, “I love you, too, Seth, but—”

“Stop,” he said. “Just . . . stop. I know.” His shoulders relaxed, and he shifted his weight at an angle away from her. It was enough to make their posture ordinary again.

They were both quiet.

“So—” Seth looked down the driveway. “—where are you headed?”

“Omaha,” she said.

“Omaha,” he repeated. “You’re forever going to Omaha. . . .” He reached out, quickly, and pulled the top of her head against his lips. Then he was moving away, striding gracefully toward his car. “Don’t forget my salad dressing.”

CHAPTER 31

Georgie had never driven herself to the airport.

She’d only flown by herself once, when she was eleven, to visit her dad in Michigan. It hadn’t gone well, and she hadn’t gone back. And then her dad died when she was in high school, and when her mom asked if Georgie wanted to go the funeral, she said no.