“Bloody hell. Are you mental?”
She grinned. “Never been confirmed one way or the other. Regardless, I’ve come to have a chat.”
She propped her hands on her hips, all proud and confident, and I registered then that she wasn’t dressed like normal. She had on denim overalls, a tight white t-shirt, and a red bandanna tied round her head. She looked like she was about to work construction and the idea of it nearly made me laugh, but then I remembered how annoyed I was.
“You’re probably wondering why I’ve come round looking like a construction worker.” She waved her hand down her front. “Well, we have a big job ahead of us and it’ll be best if we get started right away.”
She didn’t take a breath. She pushed through the front door of my house and made her way inside.
“I know you’re not keen on the idea of selling me the bed and breakfast, and I completely understand. But, I’m not asking for a majority stake or anything, just enough so my brother can be proud that I’ve done something with my life. Did I tell you I have a brother? Fred? He’s this real superstar, actually, an Olympic swimmer for Great Britain, and he’s quite annoying to have in the family. My mom’s always going on about how much he’s been able to accomplish and then she’ll say how I haven’t even snared a husband yet. It’s like I’m the black sheep, only that’s ludicrous, because I happen to think I’m the only normal one in that lot.”
I held up my hand to stop her, but she just rambled on, oblivious to the fact that I was waving for her to leave my house.
“That building is so lovely and it’s not right to leave it empty like that. It’s cruel, really. I’m not a designer or anything, but I think I have a good eye for color and furniture. I grew up living on a bloody estate, so goodness knows I’ve seen enough posh homes. I’m not saying the bed and breakfast should be that extravagant per se, but I know how we can make it welcoming and warm. We’ll need lots of color—that’s where I’ll come in, of course. I’ll do all the superficial interior stuff, and you, you’ll be in charge of construction. I think you can manage all right; you have the build for it.”
She patted my naked chest, as if kicking the tires on a car she was test driving.
“You’re quite muscly, you know, and that’s a weighty compliment. I’ve been around Olympic athletes and you wouldn’t stand out too far from that crowd.”
I snapped at her to be quiet. Her mouth dropped open and I swore she nearly thought of continuing on again, but I stepped forward and covered her mouth with my hand to ensure she’d shut up.
“You’re barking mad and I want you out of my house. Now.”
Her eyebrows knitted together in confusion and I realized I was still rather close to her, covering her lips with my hand. I could feel her breath hit my palm and I whipped back, putting a bit of distance between us.
“You won’t help me fix it up?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“I don’t owe you any explanations. I just need you to leave.”
I walked back to my front door, yanked it all the way open, and waved for her to get out.
She crossed her arms, narrowed her eyes, and kept her footing, right in the center of my living room.
“You think you’re the only person to experience loss, Gianluca? You think you get to mope around here forever?”
I saw red. Georgie didn’t get to talk about loss. She didn’t get to judge me or the way I chose to deal with mourning. This girl who lived life with a silver spoon in her mouth, this girl who floated around on clouds—she had no clue what she was talking about.
“You don’t know anything about me,” I replied with a tone that would have warned most people away.
Georgie seemed to dig her heels in deeper.
“Nor you about me. If you had ever cared to ask me about myself, I’d have told you that in the span of a few years, I lost my father and my oldest brother. One day they were there with me, alive and well. The next? Poof. Gone.
“So you see, I’m no stranger to death and dying either, but I’ve moved on with my life, and you…you’re just like that dreary bed and breakfast. You’ve let yourself fall into ruin. Katerina says it’s been five years. Five years and you act as if you lost her just yesterday!”
I was shaking then, shocked at how far Georgie was willing to push the subject. Normal people would have backed off. They’d have faltered, realizing how many lines they’d crossed. They would have apologized and left.
Not Georgie.
“You can sit up here in your villa and mope around for eternity for all I care, but don’t you feel like even Allie herself would have wanted you to be happy someday?! You’re this lovely man with real potential! I see it, but it’s under all these layers you’ve built up around yourself. Why can’t you move on?”
“It’s none of your business!”
“I’m making it my business! What are you trying to prove, anyway? That you’re the most miserable sod on Earth?”
“That’s enough—”
“Well congratulations, YOU’VE DONE IT!”
“GET OUT!”
I reached out and yanked her by her bicep, dragging her out of my house. She was nearly tripping over herself and I knew I was hurting her, but I couldn’t see past my anger. She’d pushed too far, too fast.
I tossed her out the front door and slammed it closed behind her, squeezing my eyes closed and leaning back against the door jamb. I felt bad about kicking her out like that, but she deserved it. Who did she think she was? Storming into my house? My grief? I didn’t need a pompous English girl lecturing me on the ways of life.