“When?”
He let go of her hand and placed the tweezers on the table. “Before I met you.”
Georgeanne looked at her finger, and the sliver was gone. She wondered which meeting he was referring to. “The first time?”
“Both times.” He grasped the top rung of the chair, leaned back, and frowned a little.
Georgeanne was confused. “Both times?”
“Yep. But I don’t think the second marriage really counts.”
She couldn’t help it. She felt her brows raise and her jaw drop. “You were married twice?” She held up two fingers. “Two times?”
His brows lowered and he drew his mouth into a straight line. “Two isn’t that many.”
To Georgeanne, who’d never been married, two sounded like a lot.
“Like I said, the second time didn’t count anyway. I was only married as long as it took to get a divorce.”
“Wow, I didn’t know you were ever married at all.”
She began to wonder about these two women who’d married John, the father of her child. The man who’d broken her heart. And because she couldn’t stand not knowing, she asked, “Where are these women now?”
“My first wife, Linda, died.”
“I’m sorry,” Georgeanne uttered lamely. “How did she die?”
He stared at her for several prolonged moments. “She just did,” he said, subject closed. “And I don’t know where DeeDee Delight is. I was real drunk when I married her. When I divorced her, too, for that matter.”
DeeDee Delight? She stared at him, at a compete loss. DeeDee Delight? Cryin‘ all night in a bucket? She had to ask. She simply couldn’t help it. “Was DeeDee a… a… an entertainer?”
“She was a stripper,” he said blandly.
Even though Georgeanne had guessed as much, it was a shock to hear John actually confess to marrying a stripper. It was so shocking. “Really! What did she look like?”
“I don’t remember.”
“Oh,” she said, her curiosity unsatisfied. “I’ve never been married, but I think I’d remember. You must have been real drunk.”
“I said I was.” He made an exasperated sound. “But you don’t have to worry about Lexie around me. I don’t drink anymore.”
“Are you an alcoholic?” she asked, the question slipping out before she thought better of it. “I’m sorry. You don’t have to answer such a personal question.”
“It’s okay. I probably am,” he answered more candid than she would have suspected. “I never checked into Betty Ford, but I was drinking pretty heavily and turning my brain to shit. I was pretty much out of control.”
“Was it hard to quit?”
He shrugged. “It wasn’t easy, but for my physical and mental well-being, I’ve had to give up a few things.”
“Like what?”
He grinned. “Alcohol, loose women, and the Macarena.” He moved forward and hung his wrists over the top rung of the chair. “Now that you know the skeletons in my closet, answer something for me.”
“What?”
“Seven years ago, when I bought you a ticket home, I was under the impression you were broke. How did you live, let alone start a business?”
“I was very lucky.” She paused a moment before adding, “I answered a help wanted ad for Heron’s.” Then because he’d been so truthful with her-and because nothing she’d ever done could equal marrying a stripper-she added a little fact about her life that no one knew but Mae. “And I was wearing a diamond that I sold for ten thousand dollars.”