Backstage Romance: An Austen-Inspired Romantic Comedy Box Set by Gigi Blume (ebook reader with highlighter txt) 📕

ludicrously rich. But I don’t like taking handouts from him. I earn my own money playing concerts, recording with orchestras, that sort of thing.”

“You should make money playing piano. You’re really good.”

“Thanks. But I don’t have piles of Benjamins lying around my apartment. I play a couple of gigs a month and I get by.”

He nodded, concentrating on his driving duties. “So you don’t make it rain like the rappers do in those music videos?”

“I know I look the type, but no.”

“Well that’s disappointing.”

We rode along, me making sure we were on the right track, he whistling Christmas tunes. It was strange how I felt weirdly close to him yet knew very little about his life. Was I just fooling myself?

“What about you?” I asked, the question burning through me. “Tell me about that rich girl. What made her evil? Besides being rich. That one’s obvious.”

Wyatt hesitated, quietly thinking of the right words to answer my tactlessly intrusive question.

“Never mind. Sorry I asked. I’m too nosey.”

“No, no. It’s fine.” He raked his fingers through his hair, a habit I was rapidly growing fond of. “It’s just where do I begin? There were the horns. I guess that was a red flag right there.”

“Oooh. That would be a deal breaker for me,” I deadpanned.

“Yeah, well...I was young and gave my heart away too freely. Totally my fault.”

“I can relate to that.”

“Yeah?” He flashed a blinding side smile. “Anyway, I could never figure out why she never wanted to be seen with me. When I’d ask her to go to the movies or out somewhere with friends, she would say she wanted me all to herself. Turned out she was just slumming it for kicks. I found out she was dating some society dude at the same time.”

“Ouch.” My heart went out to him.

“So I crashed one of her dad’s fancy parties to confront her. And she looked down her nose at me and just majorly insulted me in front of everyone. I knew a lot of the college students there. I thought they were my friends. But they just laughed.”

“I’m so sorry. That is evil.”

He took a fortifying breath and shook it all out of him like it was that easy to toss the memory aside. I wanted to reach out and touch him. Show him some comfort.

“You wanna know why my brother is so protective?” I asked after a minute.

“I know why,” he said. “Because he’s an older brother and he loves you. Simple.”

Not as simple as he thought.

“I gave my heart away, too,” I admitted. “Except I was a lot younger. Jorge was a family friend, practically a brother. When my dad died, Jorge got into a big fight with Will. I didn’t understand it all so I rebelled. I’d go meet him behind my brother’s back, text him all the time. I guess I developed a tiny crush but was too naive to do anything about it.”

“Was he a lot older?”

“Only about five years. But that’s a lot when you’re a teenager.”

Wyatt clenched the steering wheel tighter, already angry on my behalf for something that happened years ago. “So what happened? Did he break your heart?”

“In a way. I found out the hard way he was only using me to get back at my brother. Then he snuck into my room late one night—completely strung out on who-knows-what.”

The veins in Wyatt’s neck grew taut and his nostrils flared when he said, “Did he take advantage of you, Georgia?” There was vengeance in his voice.

“No. Calm down, Thor. My brother saved me. Actually, it was our dog, Lady. If it wasn’t for her barking...”

“I can’t wait to meet your dog. And I’m not gonna lie. I’d like to meet your brother, too.”

I laughed. “You will.”

“So, the guy—Jorge—did he go to jail?”

I sighed, remembering how long it took for Jorge to screw up bad enough for any charges to stick. “Eventually.”

It wasn’t until my brother met Beth—when her then-roommate fell victim to Jorge. Will went to Mexico to track him down. It was years later than I’d hoped, but at least now Jorge couldn’t hurt anybody ever again.

Moving on. I was ready to change the subject.

“Slug bug.” I punched the air between us because I couldn’t reach Wyatt’s arm.

“What?”

“Slug bug. You don’t know that game? When you see a Volkswagen bug—“

“I know the game,” he interrupted. “But there hasn’t been another car for miles. Let alone a VW.”

“I was just getting us started. Want some fudge?” I dipped into my pocket for the napkin of treats I slipped from the church. Wyatt had his own stash, but I figured we’d raid his pockets later.

“Heck yeah. Don’t hold out on me.” He took a hand off the wheel to reach out for some fudge. I swatted it.

“Just keep driving and try to stay on the road this time.”

“Yes, ma’am, Miss Darcy.”

We traveled for several hours singing Christmas carols, devouring fudge and A.J.’s banana bread (which was uh-may-ZING) and reminisced about our favorite gifts from Santa. Mine was a dollhouse. Wyatt’s was a Navajo drum. It was the best thing ever to take a peek into Wyatt’s life. He spoke freely about his hopes and dreams, how he switched majors too many times to count, and all the spec screenplays he’d written but tucked away in a file never to see the light of day. I encouraged him to dust them off and send them out.

“Ya never know until you try,” I said, wagging a finger.

We stopped a few times to let Reeses out, filled the tank, and grabbed lunch at a super market. We weren’t about to take any more chances at roadside diners.

Wyatt studied the map at one of our stops, spreading it out on the kitchenette table. “If we continue to drive with minimal stops we can get to L.A. by six or seven in the morning.”

“That’s nuts,” I said, shaking my head. “We’ll have to rest for a few hours.”

“Are you sure? What about the wedding?”

“It’s