MWhen you’re on a roll, you do everything you can to stay there. At the moment I finishing edits for a friend and have to get done as soon as I can since I’m going on another mini vacation this weekend. So, here’s how Mark feels after seeing Georgia. Enjoy.
Mark pulled the car into his parking space in the underground parking and took the elevator up to the loft. The renovated warehouse housed nine apartments, with boutiques and a coffee shop on the ground floor. He and Georgia had purchased a third of the available space for their dream home. The condo consisted of two floors with windows on three sides—east, south, and west. Since Georgia had a green thumb, she’d wanted lots of natural light.
He punched in the code—the date of his screw-up—to unlock the door. Georgia had misplaced her keys twice in the ten months they’d worked on the condo together. The keyless entry had been meant as a surprise, ordered before the wedding. Since he’d paid for it, he’d decided to keep it on the off-chance the woman he loved would one day come back to him.
He entered the apartment, removed his coat, and hung it on one of the antique brass hooks along the wall. He walked over to the corner bar and poured himself three fingers of scotch, half of which he downed in one gulp. He’d told Georgia the truth. He didn’t drink much anymore, but at the moment he needed this.
The loft was open concept in design with the main area accommodating the kitchen, dining room, and living room. He walked over and flipped the switch on the gas fireplace, hoping the heat could dispel the cold in his heart.
When they’d purchased the space, it’d been completely empty, devoid of everything including a staircase to the second level. Georgia had designed the interior, and they’d worked side by side with engineers and carpenters to bring her ideas to life. The massive redwood beams had been stripped and stained and polished as had the underside of the cedar planks that formed the ceiling. The walls had been reinsulated and finished with old brick and cedar. Bright rugs covered the gleaming wood floors. Slate had been used in the kitchen and foyer.
The rest of this level consisted of a den he used as an office, a powder room, a laundry room as well as the large space originally designated to be Georgia’s workroom and his home office. The only thing in the room now was an elliptical machine he used when he couldn’t make it to the gym.
A pocket staircase led upstairs to the condo’s four bedrooms and a second flight continued to the rooftop patio he’d added last year. Georgia had suggested the idea and he’s worked with engineers to make it a reality. A four foot brick wall edged the building’s main walls on three sides. The fourth side consisted of a eight foot cedar wall for privacy should the neighbors choose to do the same. He’d stood out there more nights than he cared to remember staring up at the stars and begging for answers.
He walked over to the wall of floor to ceiling windows in the living room and looked out at the Schuylkill River. In the blackness he could see her as she’d looked tonight, not the way she was in his dreams. She was much thinner than she’d been, too thin. Her lush curves had vanished, and although she still looked magnificent to him, he knew he’d miss the way she’d felt in his arms. Her eyes were shadowed, no doubt from lost sleep over this mess Eleni had put her in and meeting him tonight. Since she’d decided to move back, she’d have to accept the fact he was part of her sister’s life, even if she refused to let him be part of hers.
Georgia had let her hair grow. Otherwise, it wouldn’t have been long enough to wear it as she had tonight, all sleek and smooth, its lively curls, similar in some ways to his own, tamed and hidden. They’d joked their children would have such curly hair that it would be a miracle if anyone could comb it. Her aquamarine eyes had been sad and shadowed. He swore at one point, they had brimmed with tears when that stupid song had been played. He wished there was something he could do to make them sparkle with happiness again, but he was the reason they didn’t.
Finishing his scotch, he decided against another. Drinking had started this problem. It wouldn’t clear it away.
No matter what the future brought, he’d never forgive himself for what he’d done to her, even if he didn’t remember doing it.
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