I grin as an actual sense of triumph and vindication bursts to life inside me. “You’re not even filming new episodes, are you?” I guess. “They’re just doing reruns.”
“Georgie.” He’s starting to sound a little desperate. “I need you back in New York, babe. No one can do what you do, believe me.”
I gasp when I realize what he’s really saying. “You tried to replace me, didn’t you?”
He pales, glancing at the camera again. This time in fear. “I didn’t—that’s not what I…”
“Did you find her before or after you dumped me?”
“Georgie.”
“And were you just replacing me as your baking partner, or…” I quickly realize I don’t need an answer to that question, and I shake my head. If Lane cheated on me, it’s all the better that I’m free of him. “Honestly, Lane, I’m glad you did what you did because I am way happier here than I ever was with you.”
He scoffs. “In a piece of junk bakery in Nowhereville? This dump is falling apart and looks like it’s one health inspection shy of getting shut down anyway.”
“This dump is my most favorite place in the world,” I snap back at him. “It always has been. And if you had ever pulled your head out of your butt once in a while, you would have known that about me. I talked about Kingston’s all the time. Even on the show!”
“You did?” King’s warm voice cuts through my tirade, knocking my anger down to a simmer rather than threatening to boil over.
I turn to face him, my smile hesitant. He is an exact opposite of Lane, both in appearance and personality, and I can’t believe I ever thought anyone else could take his place in my life. “Of course I talked about Kingston’s. I’ve never been shy about where I learned it all. I like being true to my roots.”
“Georgie,” Lane says sharply, and it’s clear his patience is gone. “I know you’re all ‘hometown quaint’ and ‘average is beautiful’ and all that, but you really need to leave behind the quirks at some point and grow up. You’re not hot enough to sell the cutesy crap for much longer, and no one will take you seriously if you don’t move on.”
Wow.
I put a hand on King’s chest at the same time he takes a step forward with fury. This man’s mama raised him to respect women, a lesson Lane clearly didn’t get in his life. But I don’t need King to fight this battle for me. Though King is clenching his jaw too hard to speak, I can read his thoughts in his eyes clear enough. If I asked him to, he would pummel my ex-boyfriend in perfect view of the rolling camera, and he would do it with a smile.
“Hey,” I whisper, still pressing my hand to his chest. “I’m fine. Lane is just covering his embarrassment with anger. He’s not hurting me.”
There are so many emotions in King’s eyes as he studies my face, most of them warm and comforting as his focus turns fully to me. He’s not a violent person, and it’s obvious he would rather end this conversation and move on to the one we need to have with each other. “Lane is an idiot.”
“Yeah, he is.”
“Georgie,” Lane says, trying to get my attention again. I look at him, but he’s too busy glaring at King as if he’s only just realizing there’s a man standing behind me. “Hey, buddy, that’s my girlfriend you’re undressing with your eyes. Only I get to do that.”
King doesn’t flinch. He doesn’t even look away from me. “That’s my wife you’re demeaning, and you don’t get to do anything. I’m going to have to ask you to leave before you insult her any further.”
Lane scoffs. “She’s not your wife.”
King and I hold up our ring fingers in unison, which makes me snort out a laugh. “I was so tempted to hold up the other finger,” I say to King.
He grins. “I’m still tempted.” And then he covers my mouth with his own in a kiss that feels like it’s as much a demonstration of possession as it is a declaration of his feelings for me. Now is not the time for this, given the crowd and the camera and the…okay, I don’t care. I want to kiss this man as much as he clearly wants to kiss me.
I’m about to wrap my arms around his neck when a hand grabs mine and tugs with enough force that my wrist pops painfully.
“Georgie,” Lane says almost frantically, “what are you—”
King moves so fast that I almost miss it. He releases me and then grabs Lane by the collar, tugging him forward and spinning him around. He shoves Lane into the wall hard enough that his head leaves a small dent in the drywall. “I asked nicely,” he says in a low growl. “And now you’ve manhandled a woman without her permission, so I have no qualms about forcefully removing you from our property.”
And he does so, ignoring the gaping stares of our audience as he drags my pathetic ex out to the boardwalk, followed closely by Ned the cameraman.
Cecily is at my side in an instant. “Holy mama, that was attractive.”
I fan my face, though it won’t do much to quell the heat pulsing through me. “Tell me about it.”
“You didn’t answer your phone this morning.”
“I…” There are no ways to explain without her reading too much into things. “I wasn’t by my phone.”
She gasps far more dramatically than the situation warrants. “Then where were you, Georgiana?” My blush must give her the answer because she literally cheers, pulling everyone’s attention back to us instead of whatever King is doing outside. Thankfully, she’s smart enough to drop her voice. “I knew my marriage counseling would do the trick!”
It’s my turn to gasp. “Wait, you wanted us to get together? We didn’t do anything, by the way. The pool house flooded last night, so he let me—”
“Why in the world wouldn’t you do anything when you’ve got a gorgeous husband who would obviously enjoy all the benefits of this marriage?”
I roll my eyes, not bothering to remind her how this marriage started in the first place.
She sighs. “At least my sessions made you finally see the light and figure out what everyone else already knows: you and King are forever goals!”
“But forever means living here in Willow Cove,” I warn her, and for once the idea doesn’t frighten me at all. “I know you’d rather have me back in New York.”
“Of course I would, but most of all I want you to be happy, Georgie. King makes you happy.”
The front door jingles, bringing King back inside. He looks slightly ruffled, his T-shirt wrinkled and stretched, but he’s uninjured, which is all I care about. Plus, he’s heading straight for me, so I can’t complain.
When he gets near enough to hear me, I ask, “What happened to Lane?”
“I’m fine, by the way.”
