her lips. “The point of this club is to support and encourage each other. Yes, we’re also taking a firm stand against the men in our lives being dicks and leaving them behind if necessary, but we have to give new men a chance to be dicks before we shun them.”
Georgie gave a golf clap. “Somehow that made perfect sense.”
“Go on your date, Georgie, but keep everything on your terms.” Her sister jabbed the island with a square-tipped fingernail. “Maybe getting a sampling of what’s out there will help you move past your Travis hang-up. Sounds like it’s long overdue.”
“Yeah. It is.” Georgie twisted her lips. “Speaking of Travis . . .”
Rosie turned in her stool. “Ooh.”
“Bad: Travis showed up with his tools while Pete was there, demanding I let him keep his word and fix the fireplace. It was a giant tool party in more than one sense of the word.”
“Oh my God.” Bethany threw back her head and cackled. “This is such a priceless gift.”
“I’m glad you’re enjoying it.” Seeing the other women react with openmouthed shock made the reality of what Georgie had done caught up with her. “I kicked him out.”
Her older sister took a twirling victory lap around the kitchen.
“They argued?” Rosie asked, her voice soft with concern.
“Yeah. They totally did the alpha male construction dance. Me fix fireplace. You go home. Look. A hammer.” Georgie sighed. “Travis got all weird about me being alone with Pete—”
Bethany fell forward over the island, chin on fists. “Oh, really?”
“Not like that,” Georgie huffed. “Trust me, Travis Ford couldn’t care less if I go on a date. For some reason, he decided to show up and make me feel like an incompetent child.” Georgie swallowed hard. “And I’m really over people making me feel that way.”
Her sister’s triumph went flat. “I’m guilty of it, too, Georgie. It’s hard to think of you as anything but my little sister sometimes.” She nodded. “I’m going to try harder, okay?”
Georgie didn’t know how to verbalize what it meant to her, just having those insecurities acknowledged, so she stayed quiet. Until Bethany showed up at her side and delivered a hip bump, almost knocking her off the stool.
“Text Pete. Do it now in front of us so you don’t chicken out.”
“What . . . now?”
Bethany raised an elegant eyebrow. Rosie leaned in, too, as Georgie took out her phone and tapped out a brief text message. Her phone buzzed almost immediately with a response.
“Done,” she breathed. “We’re having lunch.”
“Fabulous! Now tell me again how you kicked Travis out. Talk slowly. Leave nothing out.” Bethany laughed when both women gave her disappointed looks. “Okay, fine. I’ll just have to imagine it. And I will. In the meantime, though, let’s talk Georgie’s entertainment business and Rosie’s restaurant . . .”
Chapter Nine
Georgie had never set foot inside the local girlie boutique. But she could tell from the outside that it was a far cry from Second Chance Zelda’s. Yes, she was about to darken the doorway of Glitter Threads for the first time—which really shouldn’t have been so daunting. Most of Georgie’s outfits came in the form of used denim and unwanted sweaters, but clothes were clothes, right?
Still, she hesitated.
Time to play a round of What Would Bethany Do?
Georgie’s sister would sweep in and walk straight into a changing room, rattling off her measurements without looking up from her phone. Clothes would be brought to her for approval. No perusing racks for Bethany Castle. Oh no. She didn’t buy clothes. The clothes needed to be sold to her.
To be fair, Georgie could do things Bethany wasn’t capable of. She could juggle five oranges, could make scarves come out of people’s ears, and had the ability to stop a child’s tears in under five seconds. Her other non-clown-related skills included making her own bath bombs, gardening, and reciting dialogue from the classic Tom Hanks movie Splash. None of which gave her the push she needed into the shop. This should be easy. She’d even come bearing gifts.
Georgie looked down at the sea salt caramel mocha in her right hand, hoping Boutique Tracy wasn’t lactose intolerant. That would really put a damper on her apology. And Georgie definitely owed her one. The Just Us League meeting had left her with such a good feeling. The support of two women had really dragged her out of her gloom. Now here she stood outside this intimidating, hyperfeminine environment, ready to pay it forward.
“I’m going to count to three,” she