Page 48 of Beautiful Desire (Blossom Beach #3)

Fletcher

A calendar invite? What the fuck?

Swiping my phone off the bed, I find the number I’m looking for and hit call. It rings a few times before it connects.

“Fletcher, I take it you got the meeting request?” My father’s gruff voice fills the line.

“Yeah, but you could’ve just called me. You didn’t need to send me an invite, like I’m an employee you’re setting up a one on one with.”

“You are an employee,” he deadpans, and I can clearly see the bored expression he’s giving me in my mind’s eye.

A smirk tugs on my lips. “Not for long,” I drawl.

“Yes, well, that’s what I wanted to discuss.”

Here we go. “I’m listening.”

“I have a call with Reese tomorrow morning, and I want to get on his schedule for when you’re in town,” he explains. “What day are you planning on arriving for graduation?”

Not where I thought this conversation was going.

“The day before,” I tell him. “My last day at the bookstore is that Wednesday, but they’re throwing me a small farewell thing that night, so I’ll head down Thursday morning.”

“Huh, thought you would’ve quit by now,” he murmurs, and I clench my jaw so tight it pops, not wanting to get into it with him today. “Well, Thursday won’t work for me. I’ll suggest Saturday morning to Reese, if that works for you, Son?”

“Sure thing, Dad.”

Hanging up the phone, I flop down on my bed, staring up at the ceiling.

It’s been a weird week, and that call didn’t make it any better.

I got word that I passed my capstone—and the rest of my classes—so, in two weeks, I’ll officially graduate with an MBA.

And that means I did it—I actually fucking did it—when not even six months ago, I honestly doubted if I’d even be able to.

I should be ecstatic.

I should be relieved.

Yet all I feel is dread. A lead weight sitting in my gut, growing heavier the closer I get to graduation, because that also means I’m closer to the stupid fucking expiration date Georgia gave us. I’m damned if I do, damned if I don’t.

A goddamn catch twenty-two, if I’ve ever seen one.

My phone buzzes on my chest, and as I flip it over and look at the screen, I huff out a breath.

Speak of the fucking devil.

Georgia: Hey, are you at home?

Gritting my teeth, I thumb out a response.

Me: Yeah, why?

Georgia: Oh, good! Grace is on her way over. She’s dropping off a tray of her strawberry lemon bars. *drool emoji* I’m supposed to be off already, but I’ll be here for another few hours, so don’t eat ’em all!

Annoyance flashes in my chest at how fucking blasé she is.

It’s been a week since she put the goddamn expiration date on us, and she’s acting completely normal.

I don’t get it, because even though I’ve done my best to put it out of my mind and enjoy the time we do have, it’s still looming over my head like a dark storm cloud.

There’s no way she hasn’t noticed.

The doorbell sounds. That was fast. Groaning, I roll off the bed and pocket my phone, not bothering to respond to Georgia’s friendly fucking message.

Unlocking the door, I pull it open, finding Grace standing on the porch, a sickly-sweet smile on her face as she holds up a tray wrapped in aluminum foil.

“Why do you look like that?”

Grace’s brows pinch together. “Like what?”

“Like a fucking Stepford wife. It’s creepy.” Taking the tray from her hands, I mutter a quick, “Thanks,” before walking away, assuming she’ll leave.

“That’s fucking rude,” she calls out after I hear the door close.

Guess not.

“I think you’ll live.” Setting the tray on the stove, I turn and press my ass against the edge of it, folding my arms over my chest as Grace waltzes into the kitchen.

Her face is scrunched up, like she just caught a whiff of fresh manure. “You’re in a mood today,” she drawls as she opens the fridge and grabs one of the spiked seltzers Georgia has in there that I’ve never seen her drink. “Want one?”

Apparently, she’s not leaving any time soon. Shrugging, I hold out my hand. “Sure, why not.”

“Come on, we can take these out back,” she says, strolling past me out of the kitchen. Then she adds, “Maybe a little sunshine will help your attitude.”

“Doubt it.” I snort, but follow her to the patio. Cracking open the can, I take a decent swig, then nearly choke to death. “What the fuck?”

“What?” Grace watches me with furrowed brows as she opens hers and takes a drink.

“This shit is nasty.” Wiping the dribble off my chin, I say, “It tastes like someone drank flavored Kool-Aid, then washed their mouth out with carbonated water, and spit it into the can.”

“Well, that was specific.” She laughs, setting her drink on the table. “So, what’s your problem?”

“I don’t have a problem.”

“Oh, yes, you do,” she insists. Then her eyes widen, and a smile spreads up her face as she sits up, resting her elbows on her knees. “It’s Georgia, isn’t it?”

“No.” Lie.

“Bullshit, you’re a terrible liar.” Snapping her fingers at me, she says, “Spill. I wanna know.”

“Why do you care?” I ask, genuinely confused about why she’s even still here. “We don’t do this. We have never done this, Grace. So, why do you care?”

“Because I love my sister, but I’m pretty sure she’s being a stubborn asshole.”

Arching a brow, I ask, “What has she told you?”

“Not enough.” Grace waves a hand in front of her. “I want to hear it from you.”

“Fine.” Heaving a sigh, I sit back in the chair and take another large swig of the disgusting static water.

“A week ago, we had a conversation—actually, no.” I cut myself off.

“It wasn’t a conversation at all. It was Georgia telling me what was going to happen, when it was going to happen, and then telling me it was what’s best for me . As if I have no say in the matter.”

“What was she telling you, though?”

“You really don’t already know this?”

Grace shakes her head, pulling her legs onto the chair as she wraps her arms around them, watching me expectedly.

“Fine, she said this…situation, or relationship, or whatever the hell you wanna call it, is ending after I graduate.”

“Of course, she did,” she mutters, rolling her eyes. “And I’m guessing that’s not what you want?”

Shrugging, I say, “Not really.”

“Not really, or no?” Grace asks. “Because those are very different answers.”

My gut twists as I chew the inside of my cheek, not knowing how much I should share with her. I’m already not a big share-my-feelings type of guy, but she and Georgia are very close, and this conversation feels a little more vulnerable than I’m comfortable with.

Fuck it. What do I have to lose anyway?

“No, Grace, I don’t want it to end.”

Something flashes in her eyes, but it’s gone before I can put a name to it. “Did you tell her that?” she asks.

“Yeah, I mean, I told her I didn’t agree with her, but I didn’t beg her to change her mind, if that’s what you mean,” I reply honestly.

“Okay…” she murmurs slowly. “Why not?”

“That is a great question, Grace.” I huff a dry laugh, something shifting inside of me as I proceed to word vomit all over her.

A steady stream of consciousness I can’t hold back.

“I keep asking myself the same damn thing. Why didn’t I speak up?

Why wouldn’t I fight harder? After all, that’s what you’re supposed to do when you’re in love with someone, right? ”

“Did you just?—”

“And then I figured it out.” I continue, cutting her off.

“It’s because Georgia was so matter of fact about all of it, so sure of this decision she made for the both of us, but more than that, she was just so fucking…

content ,” I grit out. “Like this end date will be just another day for her. Like it won’t fucking suck at all to move on with her life.

” A burst of laughter slips out of me, sounding maniacal to my own ears, but I don’t care.

“You know what, Grace? How fucking nice that must be for her.” Jumping to my feet, I thrust my fingers through my hair as I pace along the length of the patio.

“And honestly, I kind of knew it would come to this. Deep down, I knew this didn’t mean anything to her, but goddamn , it sure fucking sucked realizing I was right. But yeah… How nice for her.”

Wow. Okay.

The silence is stifling as seconds pass, and then, “Fletcher, we have to go back to the part where you said you were in love with Georgia.”

“I’d rather not,” I groan as I realize all the inside thoughts I just blurted out.

Walking over to me, Grace grabs me by the shoulders, forcing me to look her in the eye. “Tell me you have a plan.”

“A plan?”

She rolls her eyes. “Yes, Fletcher. A plan to woo her and make her realize walking away is not an option.”

“Woo her?” My face twists up as I look at her like she’s lost her mind. “What is this, a Nicholas Sparks movie?”

“Why must men be so clueless?” she asks, mostly to herself. “If you feel this way about her, and you’re this worked up over it, then surely, you’re not going to just accept it, are you?”

“Well, I don’t really see any other option. Have you met your sister? She’s not exactly one to go back once her mind’s already made up.”

Glancing at her phone, she heaves a sigh and meets my gaze. “Listen, I have to get Blakely to gymnastics soon, so I can’t stay, but one thing about Georgia is, she’s been through a lot. It’s not my story to tell, but she has her reasons for why she’s so guarded.”

“I know about her ex-boyfriend,” I point out.

“Okay, well, if you truly want to be with her, you need to show her that. Show her that it’s okay to let her guard down this time.

Grand gestures aren’t only for the movies, Fletcher.

Think about it.” Patting my shoulder, she walks around me toward the house, but before she goes inside, Grace turns and says, “Congratulations, by the way, on finishing grad school. Proud of you.”

After she leaves, my brain spins. What could I possibly say to Georgia to get her to change her mind?

I don’t know how to woo anybody. Inside the house, I stop by the kitchen and grab one of the strawberry lemon bars before heading back to my room.

Taking a bite, I audibly groan because damn, these are amazing.

I sit down at my desk, going through my emails.

There’re quite a few from my professors about final grades and the upcoming graduation ceremony, but one in particular regarding my capstone project catches my eye.

Heart pounding harder, something clicks in my mind.

The wheels are turning, and suddenly, it hits me.

And the answer’s been in front of my face the entire time… Why didn’t I see it sooner? This would be a huge long shot, and I’m working up against the eleventh hour here, but I know what I’m going to do.

I know how I’m going to get my girl.

Time to get to work.