The Things We Leave Unfinished Yarros, Rebecca (reading like a writer .TXT) 📖

folded my arms across my chest. “Please, do tell me more about what I should be doing to win back the woman I blatantly, deliberately lied to for weeks.”

“Well, when you put it that way.” Her nose wrinkled. “At least you didn’t cheat on her like her ex?”

“I’m not sure arguing that a liar is better than a cheater is really the way to go on this one.” I rubbed the bridge of my nose. “I used my best weapon—words—and played with semantics to get what I wanted, and it bit me in the ass, plain and simple. There’s no coming back from that with her.”

“So you’re saying she’s a Darcy?” Adrienne tilted her head in thought.

“I’m sorry?”

“You know…her good opinion once lost is lost forever.” She shrugged. “Pride and Prejudice? Jane Austen?”

“I know who wrote Pride and Prejudice, and I’d argue that Georgia is one of the most forgiving people I know.” She’d given her mother chance after chance.

“Good, then fix this.” She nodded. “You’re right. Love—the good, the real, the life-changing—is rare. You have to fight for it, Noah. I know you’ve never had to before, that women have always come easily to you, but it’s because you never cared enough to try to keep someone around before.”

“Fair point.” This was all new territory for me.

“You live in a world where you can script everything someone says and one grand gesture makes everything instantly better, but the truth is that relationships are work in the real world. We all screw up. We all say something we regret or do the wrong thing for the right reasons. You’re not the first guy who might need a good grovel.”

“Tell me honestly, have you been saving this speech?” I leaned across the desk and took my coffee from the carrier.

“For years,” she admitted with a grin. “How did I do?”

“Five stars.” I gave her a thumbs-up, then downed the offered caffeine.

“Excellent. Time to rejoin humanity, Noah. Get your hair cut, shave, and please, for the love of God, take a shower because it smells like funk and takeout in here.”

I gave my shoulder a discreet sniff and couldn’t argue. Instead, I glanced at the invitation Adam had messengered over a couple of days ago. As much as I hated it, there was one other person who might be able to answer the question that had been eating away at me for the last couple of months. The question Georgia had never asked Scarlett.

“My job here is done.” Adrienne stood and slipped her coat on.

“Rejoin humanity, huh?”

“Yep.” She nodded, fastening her buttons.

“Want to be my plus one?” I picked up the invitation and handed it to her.

“These things are so boring,” she groaned, but read it over.

“This one won’t be. Paige Parker is a major donor.” I lifted my brows. “I’ll bet you anything Damian Ellsworth will be there.”

Adrienne’s eyes flared with surprise, her gaze darting to mine, then narrowing. “Someone has to keep you out of trouble. I’m free that night. Pick me up at six.”

“You always did like a good show.” I laughed.

She scoffed and walked straight out of my office.

I heard the front door shut just as the text alert went off on my phone.

GEORGIA: I read both endings.

My heart stopped as I watched three little dots scroll along the bottom of the message, indicating that she wasn’t done typing.

GEORGIA: Go with the real one. You did a great job at portraying her grief, her struggle getting here, and her eventual happiness when she married Brian.

My eyes slid shut against the tidal wave of pain that washed over me. Damn it. It wasn’t just the loss of my preferred ending, the one that Scarlett and Jameson deserved, but the knowledge that I’d failed to convince Georgia she could have that same happiness in her own life. I breathed through the pain and managed to type out a text that wasn’t a thousand apologies and a plea to take me back.

NOAH: Are you sure? The happy one is better written.

Because it had my heart and soul in it. It was the right one.

GEORGIA: I’m sure. This one is trademark you. Don’t doubt your ability to rip someone’s heart out.

Ouch. She was freezing over again, not that I blamed her. Hell, I’d caused it.

NOAH: I love you, Georgia.

She didn’t reply. I hadn’t expected her to.

“I’ll prove it,” I said to myself, to her, to the world.

Chapter Thirty

May 1942

Ipswich, England

Clack. Clack. Clack. The sound of typing filled the kitchen as Scarlett broke the heart of the diplomat’s daughter.

Her heart clenched, as if she could feel the very pain she was putting her character through. She reminded herself that she would put them back together once they had both grown enough to deserve the other. This wasn’t a permanent heartbreak. This was a lesson.

The knocks at the door nearly blended into the monotonous clicks of the typewriter.

Nearly.

She glanced up at the clock. It was after eleven, but it was also the first night Constance was scheduled to be back from her honeymoon.

Scarlett pushed away from the table and walked to the door barefoot, steeling her heart for whatever she might find on the other side. Who knew what that monster could have done to her little sister in the last week?

She plastered a smile on her face, then opened the front door.

She blinked in confusion.

Howard stood on her doorstep, dressed in uniform, his face drawn and pale.

He wasn’t the only one. Behind him stood other faces she recognized, all in uniform with eagles on their shoulders.

Her stomach pitched, and she gripped the doorframe with white knuckles. How many? How many of them were here?

“Scarlett,” Howie said, clearing his throat when his voice broke.

How many?

Her eyes jumped from one hat to the next as she counted. Eleven. There were eleven pilots outside her door.

“Scarlett,” Howie tried again, but she could barely make out the words.

Jameson usually flew in a formation of twelve. Three flights of four.

Eleven of them were here.

No. No. No. This wasn’t