George’s Big Day (With George #3) Read Online Mary Calmes

Categories Genre: Contemporary, M-M Romance Tags Authors: Series: With George Series by Mary Calmes
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Total pages in book: 39
Estimated words: 37793 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 189(@200wpm)___ 151(@250wpm)___ 126(@300wpm)
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When Kurt called me, it was hard to understand him.

“Love, can you take a breath for me?” I asked, pulling over, close to home, not wanting to go all the way there if he was somewhere else.

I could hear him trying to take in air, sounding very close to hyperventilating.

“What’s going on?”

“My mother.”

If I was surprised, which I was, he was shocked to his core. I could only imagine that he was feeling terribly adrift.

“Tell me where you are?”

He explained that they—his mother and her husband and their three children—were staying at the Waldorf Astoria and had secured a reservation at Delphine’s, the newest Michelin star restaurant close by. I stayed on the phone with him as I made a U-turn in the middle of the street, the 2019 Lincoln Navigator I was driving—my work car when I wasn’t protecting Hannah Kage—accelerating smoothly as I headed out to the Gold Coast area. It glided down the road even as I went way over the speed limit. This being Chicago, however, and at nearly six at night, the traffic was like one of Hercules’s labors. It would take me a while to get there.

“You’re on your way?” he prodded.

“Yes, honey, I’ll be there soon.”

“Good. Good.” Deep breath then. “We’re having drinks and appetizers. We’re at a large table near the windows that’s to the right of the stairs leading to, like, a loft area.”

Not as hard to do on a weeknight, but still, notable to get any table at the upscale eatery on such short notice. Unless it wasn’t, and the trip had been planned. I wondered if his mother was trying to impress him or if she was simply used to luxury.

“Save a seat for me.”

“I will,” he rasped. “I have to…go.” He hung up then without another word.

I would be homicidal by the time I got there.

Immediately, I called Thomasin, and got her on the second ring.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” she swore, which was not at all like her. Neither she nor Kurt were big swear-word people. “I cannot believe Vanessa Marcum blindsided her own son.”

She said it as though Vanessa was not her mother as well. “When did he call you?”

“Probably seconds before you. It was quick. He got out, like, three sentences before I heard his voice get all thready and he said he needed to call you.”

“Were you hung up on as well?”

“I was. You know he does that when he gets overwhelmed.”

“I do.”

“All his manners fly right out the window.”

Mine did as well on occasion, so I never got after anyone about that. “Did you know she was in Chicago?”

“Hell no. She hasn’t reached out to me at all. Ever. Not since she left. But that’s smart. I would slam the door right in her face, open it, and slam it again. I mean, George, I’m a mother myself. I would rather cut off an arm, lose my eyes, anything other than being away from my children, and they’re annoying!”

They weren’t. She was making a go at levity for me, and I appreciated it.

“I can’t imagine abandoning my babies, and I definitely wouldn’t leave them with Brad, and he’s a great dad! You know that.”

I did. Her husband was guilty of a lapse in judgment last Christmas, but it had been done with the very best intentions and a pure heart. There was no doubt that Brad Carr worshipped his wife and adored his two sons.

“She left us with a monster,” she said, her voice falling off. After a moment, she cleared her throat. “And she never looked back. We never heard a peep from her. Not an email, not a damn Christmas card, nothing. I know other kids had it worse, but⁠—”

“We all deal with our own trauma, Thom. Don’t belittle what you and your brother went through. Abandonment is no small thing.”

“Thank you, George.”

We both took a moment.

“Okay, so…what’s her deal?”

“I have absolutely no clue,” she disclosed. “None. I hired a private detective five years ago, didn’t tell Kurt, and all I asked for was the basics.”

“Like was your mother dead or alive.”

“That’s right.”

“And?”

“She remarried, has a son and two daughters, and lives in Scottsdale, Arizona, with her husband, who is a real estate developer.”

“I have a question. Your grandparents left money for you and Kurt. They didn’t leave any for her?”

“They did. She had a trust fund, same as us, that she blew through before she met and married my father.”

“What did your father do for work?” Kurt never wanted to talk about either of his parents, so these were answers I wanted.

“He was a cardiothoracic surgeon, and once he was divorced and we were out of his life, he moved to Boston and was hired at some hospital there. I don’t remember which, didn’t really care. He sent us a letter once he was settled, and I got it because I was the one still in town, finishing up my last two years of high school. Kurt was in college, still paying for our apartment, and we were both working. Mr. Butler—that’s what we had to call him, or sir—sir was good too—didn’t offer to have me go live with him. Of course I was fine with that. Who escapes hell and begs to go back?”


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