The Invitation by Adriana Locke

Ripley

Waffles nudges my leg with his nose.

“I know, buddy,” I say, downing another shot of tequila. “Give me a second.”

He barks, as if that’s not good enough.

“That’s the theme of the day,” I say.

I sit at the island, hunched over. The cameras are still sitting where we left them this morning. The pan of burnt turkey bacon is on the stove. A single white chocolate macadamia nut cookie is on the counter, and I want to fucking cry.

My insides ache with a hollowness, a sickness, that extends deep into my soul. I feel like I’ve been punched in the gut repeatedly and left to die.

Felicity’s words echo alongside my father’s in my head. It occurs to me why they would’ve been attracted to each other. They’re both horrible people who like to manipulate those around them to get what they want.

If karma was real, they would’ve ended up together.

“Fucking hell,” I say slumping against the counter. “This is bullshit. All of it.”

What’s really bullshit? Is it that our parents are selfish assholes, or is it that I’m afraid Georgia might believe the things both of our parents said about me?

My phone rings and I jump, knocking my glass down the island as I reach for the call. But my heart drops when I see it’s not Georgia.

“Hey,” I say, pulling my glass back to me again.

“Sutton just got off the phone with Georgia. Are you okay?” Jeremiah asks.

“I’m drinking tequila.”

“Shit.” He takes a deep, frustrated breath. “Want me to come over?”

“Nope. Sure don’t.”

“Hey, Ripley. It’s Sutton.”

“Hey,” I say.

“What can I do for you?” she asks.

I take another shot for good measure. “Is she okay?”

“She will be.”

“Her mother is a piece of fucking work. You should’ve heard the shit she was saying—and I don’t even care about the stuff she said about me. You should’ve heard the way she spoke to Georgia.”

Sutton sighs. “I know. This has been a long time coming. But this relationship is important to Georgia, even if it’s unhealthy.”

“So what do I do? If anyone else in the world had talked to her like that, I would’ve stepped in and ended it.” My stomach curls, threatening to launch the tequila across the kitchen. “But it’s her mom, and she’s been very clear that she wants to preserve that relationship. So what do I do? I feel like I failed her today.”

I hold my head, disgusted with myself.

Maybe my dad was right. Maybe I am good for nothing.

“You did the right thing,” Jeremiah says. “Tensions were high. The right thing was to leave and let Georgia handle it. She was safe, and if she needed you, she would’ve called.”

And she didn’t call.

Fuck. I hang my head.

“She’s really embarrassed about the things her mother said to you,” Sutton says. “I know she feels awful.”

“It’s not her fault. I’m sure her piece of work mother will blame her for it, considering it seems like she blames her for everything.”

“You have no idea,” Sutton says, groaning.

Her mother’s words echo through my head.

“I can’t believe you’d do this to me, especially when you know what a rotten week this has been for me!”

“You’re betraying me just like your father.”

Georgia said she was selfish, but holy shit.

If this is the only family Georgia has, then I understand why she’s reluctant to terminate their relationship no matter how terrible it might be. But this isn’t healthy. This isn’t good.

Who does Georgia go to when she’s sick? Hurt? When she needs support?

Who takes care of her? Protects her? Is her shield from the world?

It doesn’t look like she has one. It appears she’s out there, fending for herself, and I can’t handle that.

“Dammit,” I groan into the air, pounding my fist against the countertop. “I can’t take this shit. What should I do? Do I call her? Go over there? Text her? What?”

“Why don’t you give her some space tonight?” Sutton suggests. “She’s trying to do what’s right for everyone involved. Let’s give her a bit of time to get her head together.”

“I don’t like that plan.”

Jeremiah chuckles. “I bet you don’t, man, but Sutton’s going over there in a little bit.”

“And I’ll tell her I talked to you,” she says.

“And if you need anything—if she needs me—you’ll call me, right?” I ask.

“You’re my first call,” Sutton says. “This is going to be all right. I promise.”

I look down at Waffles, his little chin resting on my foot, and smile weakly.

Just last night Georgia and I were outside, taking Waffles for a walk. Throwing him the ball. Ordering him jackets online for the upcoming fall—something that was a little extra for even me—but Georgia insisted.

And now, we’re here.

It was so much easier when she hated me for something I’d done instead of possibly seeing me in the same way they do.

“Keep me updated,” I say.

“Call me if you need me,” Jeremiah says. “I’ll be home all night. Keep away from the tequila tonight, just in case. ”

I push the bottle away from me. “Okay. Talk to you later.”

“Bye,” they say and hang up.

I hold my head in my hands and replay every conversation I’ve ever had with Georgia—until one conversation sticks out.

“Donovan started talking about me moving in with him, and I fought against it. It was too soon and, I don’t know, I didn’t really feel like we were at that point. That made him mad. Shortly after, he stopped buying cookies.”

I swipe my phone up and find her name in my text list.

My heart pounding, I type out a simple text that I hope she understands.

Me:

A few seconds later, her reply comes through.

Georgia:

It’s not enough, but at least it’s something until I can talk to her. She knows I’m not going anywhere.

Because I will talk to her.

I’ve waited my entire adult life for her. I can wait a bit longer.

The sound of my phone shakes me out of my sleep. I grasp wildly at my bedside table until I find it as I sit up.

Georgia: Hey, just checking on you.

Me: It’s so good to hear from you. How are you?

I stare at the screen until it goes black. My heart turns a dark shade with it.

Georgia: I’m actually terrible. I am so sorry for what happened today. I’ve tried to call you and text you a hundred times, but I just don’t know what to say.

“Thank God.”

Me: You don’t have to say anything. You don’t have to apologize or explain. I just want to know that you’re okay.

Georgia: Mom said some really awful things to both of us today, and I’m so sorry you had to hear them. I can brush them off because I know she’ll come around. But you didn’t deserve any of that.

Me: And you think you did?

“You’ve got to be kidding me, Peaches.”

I stare at the screen, waiting for her reply—one that takes far too long.

Georgia: I have to figure this out. It’s time I place some boundaries with her and demand more respect. But I fear that’s going to be a process at best, impossible at worst. But, until I know, I can’t have you being subjected to her word vomit.

Me: I’m a big boy.

Georgia: Don’t I know it? I just need some time, okay? You’ve protected me for so long, and I need to protect you, too.

Me: I don’t need protecting. I need to be there for you.

Georgia: If you get involved, it’ll make it messier. And I can’t focus on my new job—which I start tomorrow now, by the way—you, and Mom. Even though it’s not what I want when we’ve just found each other, I just need a bit of space. Please.

Me: You can have all the space you want, as long as you know this is where you’re going to end up.

Georgia: Soon.

Me:

Georgia:

It takes a long time to fall back asleep. But, when I do, I sleep a bit more peacefully.