My Kind of Perfect (Finding Love 3)
She squirms slightly, adjusting to my intrusion, and then turns over so she’s snuggled into my chest.
“You smell weird,” she says, her voice gravelly from sleep. “Like soap and… something else.”
“We were putting out a fire all morning.” I hold her tighter, thankful she’s alive and safe. I love my job, but days like today suck. “It was out of our zone, but station 116 called for backup.”
“Everyone okay?” she asks, her arms encircling my torso.
“The fire started in an apartment on the seventh floor. Everyone got out, except for two. A four-year-old and the babysitter. Parents were out and came home to find their child dead.”
Georgia gasps. “I’m so sorry, Chase.” She pulls me down to her and kisses the corner of my mouth.
“The babysitter made it… Admitted to smoking and leaving it lit.”
“Oh no.” She holds me tighter. “That’s horrible.”
“I’m so damn tired,” I tell her, hearing the slur in my words. “I know I said we’d talk when I got home but—”
“Shh,” Georgia murmurs. “There’s nothing to talk about, Chase. We’re good. Just go to sleep.”
My eyes meet hers and my heart clenches in my chest, recognizing how different being with Georgia is. I just had a shitty night, the entire time questioning why this world is so fucked up and God is so cruel, but the moment I’m in her arms it’s as though everything, even just for a brief moment, is perfect. I know it’s only an illusion, and everything on the outside is still there, but maybe that’s how it should be when you’re with the person you love—as if the entire world, every shitty part of it, fades away while you’re together.
I wake up to find Georgia sitting next to me, typing away on her laptop. When she feels me shift, she stops typing and glances down at me.
“Hey,” she says softly.
“Hey.” I drag myself up and lean against her headboard. “What time is it?”
“Five.”
Shit, I slept the day away. Then I remember why and my stomach sinks. Losing someone in a fire always sucks, but a child… Fuck.
Georgia closes her laptop and sets it on the nightstand, then takes my hand in hers. “I wish there was something I could do or say…”
“You’re doing it.” I lean over and kiss her. “Why don’t we get out of here? Go grab something to eat.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah.” It will do me some good to get out and be distracted. Especially since I’ll be back at work at eight o’clock tomorrow and will need to be in my right mind.
“All right,” she agrees.
After we’re both showered and dressed, we head out. We’re in my vehicle, trying to decide where to go, when my phone rings over Bluetooth, alerting me that my mom is calling.
“Hey, Mom,” I say, answering.
“Hey, baby. What are you up to?”
“Nothing. About to grab something to eat. You?”
“I wanted to see if you’d like to go to dinner… You know since it’s your birthday.”
Georgia gasps. “Today is your birthday?”
Shit, is it? “What’s today?”
“Chase, don’t tell me you forgot your own birthday,” Mom chides. “Is that why you ignored all my calls this morning?”
“I was sleeping. Was up all night putting out a fire.”
“It’s your birthday?” Georgia repeats, glaring at me.
“Who’s with you?” Mom asks.
Georgia’s eyes go wide, as if now realizing my mom can hear her.
“My girlfriend,” I tell my mom, grinning at Georgia.
“What?” she shrieks. “You have a girlfriend? And she didn’t know it’s your birthday?”
Georgia’s back to glaring at me. “He didn’t tell me,” she says. “Would you like to join us, Ms. Matthews?”
“Oh, please call me Sharon, and I would love to meet you. Have anywhere in mind?”
“Well, since it’s Chase’s birthday we should go somewhere nice.”
I hold my breath, knowing it’s going to be somewhere expensive. Georgia is from a different world than my mom and me.
“Oh! How about Zavarelli’s in Venice since you love Italian. Have you guys ever been?”
When Mom doesn’t say anything, I do. “I don’t think either of us has been, but I do love Italian.”
“Perfect!” Georgia beams, completely oblivious to the tension in the car and over the phone.
Mom clears her throat. “Okay, I’ll, umm, see you guys soon.” I know she was planning to pay since she always does for my birthday, but I have no doubt this restaurant will be out of her budget.
When we arrive, my suspicions are confirmed. The place is expensive. While we wait for my mom to arrive, Georgia puts our name down for a table and I glance at the menu. Shit, over fifty dollars a plate. There’s no way my mom is going to be okay eating here.
“Hey, Georgia, if there’s a wait we can go somewhere else.”
She frowns. “It’s only a few minutes, but if you don’t want to eat here…”
“It’s not that,” I tell her, pulling her into my arms. “But my mom always insists on paying for my birthday dinner. Growing up we didn’t have shit for money, but every year for my sister’s and my birthday, my parents would take us out to dinner.” It was literally the only time we ever went out to dinner.