So then why did the thought of doing so terrify me?
Because I wanted her approval. That had been the whole reason I lied to her in the first place, the whole reason I lied to anyone.
And it hadn’t worked.
Which meant it was time to turn over a new leaf. Be a new man. I’d failed Georgia before, but I’d been given an opportunity to do things differently.
And, perhaps, if I were lucky, there was still a chance of romance there. Yes, Georgia and I still lived in different countries. We’d changed. Grown over the years.
But that spark, the one I’d never had with anyone else, was still there. If she even felt half of what I did then she’d be interested in trying again.
Feeling confident for the first time that day, I strode out the front door, ready for whatever came next.
CHAPTER9
GEORGIA
Aknock on the door made me turn from the vanity where I was putting on my makeup. Setting down the lipstick, I frowned.
That couldn’t be Rodrigo. It was a good half hour before he was set to pick me up.
“Want me to get it?” Juliana asked.
“Sure. Thank you.”
Tossing her magazine on the couch, she went to the hotel door. I heard an exchange in Portuguese, with Juliana accepting a bouquet of flowers.
“Ooh la la.” She came and set them on the vanity, a dozen red roses. “Now I wonder who sent those?”
I checked the card, though I already had a good guess. “Rodrigo.”
“He can’t wait to see you.” She waggled her eyebrows at me in the mirror.
I laughed. “No. This is not a date.”
With a frown, she leaned against the doorframe. “It seems he has a different opinion.”
I sighed. “It’s friendly. We’re… catching up.”
“And yet you hesitated when you said that.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. Eleven years hadn’t done much to change Juliana. While we’d stayed in touch here and there, today was the first time I’d seen her since leaving her mother’s boarding house over a decade earlier.
I took responsibility for that. I should have gotten in touch sooner; I suppose I’d always been too stuck on the idea that solo travel meant spending an inordinate amount of time alone.
When I’d called her up that morning, though, she’d been thrilled to hear from me. So thrilled that she came over a few hours later with some homemade soup and a stack of magazines. Her mom was watching the kids for the day, and since her husband was working late, it was, as she put it, “perfect timing.”
“I see him in the news all the time,” she said.
I blinked. “In the news? Why?”
“He owns the biggest media company in Brazil.”
My hands stilled on the makeup brushes. For some reason, I didn’t know that.
Perhaps I’d made a point of ignoring anything related to the media in Brazil, always too afraid that I would hear something about Rodrigo.
“Oh.” I fingered the roses.