Pretty Little Pieces, page 1
Books by Carmen Schober
After She Falls
Pretty Little Pieces
© 2022 by Carmen Schober
Published by Bethany House Publishers
11400 Hampshire Avenue South
Minneapolis, Minnesota 55438
www.bethanyhouse.com
Bethany House Publishers is a division of
Baker Publishing Group, Grand Rapids, Michigan
www.bakerpublishinggroup.com
Ebook edition created 2022
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—for example, electronic, photocopy, recording—without the prior written permission of the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is on file at the Library of Congress, Washington, DC.
ISBN 978-1-4934-3732-0
Unless otherwise noted, Scripture quotations are from The Holy Bible, English Standard Version® (ESV®), copyright © 2001 by Crossway, a publishing ministry of Good News Publishers. Used by permission. All rights reserved. ESV Text Edition: 2016
Scripture quotations in chapter nineteen are from THE HOLY BIBLE, NEW INTERNATIONAL VERSION®, NIV® Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984, 2011 by Biblica, Inc.® Used by permission. All rights reserved worldwide.
All emojis designed by OpenMoji – the open-source emoji and icon project. License: CC BY-SA 4.0
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, incidents, and dialogues are products of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Cover design by Kathleen Lynch/Black Kat Design
Cover photography by Natalia Ganelin/Arcangel
Author is represented by Golden Wheat Literary Agency.
Baker Publishing Group publications use paper produced from sustainable forestry practices and post-consumer waste whenever possible.
For Jeff, Vivian, Sofia, and Leo.
Our story is my favorite.
Contents
Cover
Half Title Page
Books by Carmen Schober
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
Discussion Questions
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Back Ads
Back Cover
1
“There. Done.”
Georgina smiles in the mirror as Margot finishes styling the last strand. Her curly mane is tamed and glossy, and it frames her contoured face—also Margot’s handiwork.
Georgina gently swings her hair from side to side. “I love it.”
“You look perfect,” Margot says through a mouthful of pins. “Are you nervous?”
Georgina nods. The entire day has been a blur of preparation for tonight, and now her eyes are darting between the phone in her lap and her reflection in the mirror. Messages—mostly from her ecstatic mother and excited friends—are rolling in so fast she can’t keep track. “It doesn’t feel real yet, honestly,” she adds, wishing it did. She’s worked so hard for this moment.
Margot smiles and slides a pearl pin through Georgina’s hair. “It is real, babe. You’re doing it—”
Georgina stiffens in the chair as another message arrives.
“All good?”
Georgina pries her eyes away from her father’s text, but the damage is done. “Yes,” she lies. “Sorry.”
“You’re fine. I can’t even imagine your phone right now. I think you should go with the claret,” Margot suggests, shifting the focus to lipstick, which Georgina appreciates. “But I also love this new peach.”
She finishes up a few minutes later and showers Georgina with air kisses, so Georgina turns on some music to fill the too-quiet apartment, but her thoughts wander back to her father’s text.
Congratulations. I’m proud of you.
Five simple words, but she sifts them in her mind, searching for hidden clues. His almost-constant silence makes every word seem irritatingly important. Her fingers hover over her phone for a moment, but then she sets it on the vanity.
“You can write back later,” she reminds herself, recalling the boundaries Alvin suggested she set with both of her parents. Georgina’s always felt like she has to respond immediately, especially when it comes to them.
“That’s the beauty of a boundary, Georgina,” Alvin had explained at her last session. “It’s you choosing your own response instead of going into autopilot.” His gray eyes were encouraging under his fluffy eyebrows. “And boundaries are especially important when your parents don’t have any,” he added with a sad smile.
Georgina takes Margot’s advice and reaches for the safer, muted claret. She twists the tube and glides the color over her lips but stops when her stomach tightens. She’s had light cramps on and off all afternoon, but she had plowed through them, too busy to pay much attention until now.
Worry fills her when they don’t fade. Each one hurts a little more than the one before it, so she shifts in her seat, hoping a new position might help, but the next one surges harder. She gasps and suddenly stands up, lurching toward the toilet as the lipstick slips from her fingers and clatters against the tile. She lifts her sequined dress just in time as the pain deepens and blood rushes from her body. Panic fills her as she realizes what’s happening.
She’s losing the baby.
“Please let it be okay,” she prays instinctively, even though it’s obviously not okay. She covers her face with her hands and inhales through the pain. “Please, please, please let it be okay. . . .”
When she uncovers her face moments later, she finally looks down and quickly flushes the toilet. Her muscles eventually relax again, and the shock fades, but she can’t make herself move. Her feelings are rising like a cold, dark tidal wave, and it gets worse when she catches a glimpse of herself in the mirror.
Thankfully, Lance isn’t home yet. As awful as she feels right now, she doesn’t want him to see her like this. She doesn’t want to see herself like this, but the bathroom is filled with mirrors, so she can’t hide. She fixes her eyes on a vase of dying lilies instead and whispers another desperate prayer.
“Help me.”
“Hey, Joanna Gaines! Over here!”
Georgina turns in the direction of a familiar voice and finds Corrine Jacobs grinning back at her. She eyes Georgina’s gown and cashmere sweater combination. “Aren’t you looking rather iconic tonight?”
Georgina smiles. “Thanks.” The sweater is a little warm for late April, but she’s committed to the look. Corrine stands out, too, in her drapey dress and towering heels, even among so many beautiful people crammed inside the art gallery. She’s been Lance’s assistant for years, and Georgina’s never seen her in flat shoes.
“Lance should be here any minute,” Corrine says, glancing at her phone and typing something at breakneck speed. “They reshot a bunch at the Gulch house,” she adds with a grimace. “He’s not a happy camper.”
Georgina nods but hides her disappointment from Corrine. She doesn’t want to talk about the miscarriage yet, but she wouldn’t mind his strong arms around her.
“How’s the cookbook going, by the way?” Corrine asks, her smoky eyes lighting up. “Did you decide on a theme?”
“Not yet.” Between the unexpected pregnancy and preparing for her new show with Lance, her potential cookbook contract is still sitting on the back burner. She’s always wanted to write one, but the timing couldn’t be worse.
“I think you should just do a spin on the whole country farmhouse thing and roll with your Joanna vibes. Apple pie, but make it fashion, you know? That sort of thing.”
Georgina smiles weakly. Corrine’s referring to the Young Southern Style cover that earned Georgina and Lance a spot at tonight’s event in the first place. Georgina’s mother ran out and bought fifteen copies.
Designers Lance Broussard and Georgina Havoc look more like the next Chip and Joanna Gaines every day as the power couple prepares to host a new design series flipping unique spaces across Nashville. Twenty-nine-year-old Havoc is rapidly following in Joanna’s footsteps with a beloved lifestyle blog and cookbook talks—
The magazine gushed on for another five paragraphs, but Georgina’s eyes kept coming back to those two sentences. The comparison is thrilling but daunting, and her people haven’t stopped talking about it since.
“Georgie!”
Poppy McCrae loops her arm with Georgina’s and pulls her toward the food. Georgina throws Corrine an apologetic look, but relief fills her. Corrine is nice enough, but she’s intimidating. It could be her cool confidence, or it could be because Lance’s life would instantly combust without her.
“Okay, just tell it to me straight. Do I look like garbage?” Poppy glances down at her loose linen dress, which barely hides her baby bump, then back at Georgina with an uneasy expression as
“You look adorable, like always.”
Poppy looks skeptical, but Georgina means it. Poppy’s red-gold hair is tied back in a quick mermaid braid and reveals her glowing freckled face.
Typically, Georgina would’ve touched her bump and updated her prediction—she’s sure it’s a boy now—but she doesn’t tonight. Her emotions are too close to the surface.
“Is this, like, your poker face, Georgie? Because it’s good. Almost too good.” Poppy frowns. “Are you secretly geeking out on the inside?”
Georgina forces a bright smile under her probing eyes. “I’m happy, Pop.” It’s not a lie—she is happy—but she can’t shake off the heaviness of the miscarriage. “I’m just overwhelmed, I think. . . .”
“Well, you’re allowed to freak out since this is literally the moment,” Poppy continues, her eyes glowing with pride. “Like, you did it, Georgina Havoc. You really freaking did it.”
Nostalgia and sadness hit Georgina at the same time as Poppy hands her a glass of champagne. “No, we did it.”
Poppy smiles. Neither of them could’ve ever guessed how much Nail Breakers would take off when they pitched the concept to UpScale three years ago. They were just artsy Instagrammers back then with a knack for flipping furniture and staging fabulous spaces, and somehow their side hustle turned into two seasons of a wildly popular show.
Sadness tugs at Georgina as she sips the champagne. Almost six months have passed since Poppy left Nail Breakers to raise her daughter, Olivia, but Georgina misses her every single day. She’s also a little envious. Georgina could never give up her career like that, but she thought she’d at least be married by now.
“Here comes Lance,” Poppy mutters.
Georgina’s mood lifts as she turns and catches his eye.
“Sorry I’m late, babe,” he says, pulling her in for a quick kiss on the cheek. “Gulch,” he adds glumly, finishing what’s left of Georgina’s champagne. “I should just burn it down at this point. Oh, hey, Pop,” he adds, suddenly noticing her. “How’s it going?”
Poppy returns the greeting with a tight smile. Technically, Georgina is the only one who is allowed to call her that, but Poppy lets it slide. “Hello, Lancey.”
He frowns at the nickname, but his eyes drift back to the crowd. It’s a mix of familiar faces and strangers in a shimmering sea of stylists, designers, and photographers, and his presence causes a fresh murmur of excitement. He looks back at Georgina with a smirk. “Are you ready for this, G?”
No. Just hold me for a second, please. That’s what she wants to say, but “I think so” is all that comes out.
“Do we both go up there, or just you?” he asks, eyeing the press area.
“Um, I think just me first, maybe . . .” Georgina tries to remember the long list of instructions from the Young Southern Style intern, but her mind keeps slipping back to the bathroom—the silence, the blood, the lilies—and she just wants to be alone with him for a few minutes as her feelings rise and fall all over again. Tonight was the night she was going to tell him about the baby. “Hey, can we go—”
“They’ll want pictures of both of us,” he says, running a hand through his swishy Clark Kent hair—a trait that earned him the nickname “Superman” from his fawning fans. Georgina can’t blame them. Her formerly awkward teenage self would’ve probably passed out at the sight of him.
“Sorry,” he adds, finally perfecting the swoop. “What were you saying?”
“Um . . .” She tries again, but the words still won’t come out. Poppy throws her a curious look. “Nothing important.”
“One second. I’ll be right back.”
Her disappointment returns as he slips off again with his phone pressed against his ear, but she doesn’t have time to think about it, thanks to Poppy, who drags her over to the press area without him. It’s a velvety blue carpet with a million logos where they’re supposed to do standard hand-on-hip poses for a gaggle of flashing cameras, but Poppy ruins every shot by talking or laughing.
“Okay, okay, one serious one,” she says, finally standing still with her arm around Georgina. Georgina smiles happily as the lights burst all over again. It’s the best moment of the night so far, but it’s bittersweet, too. She’s excited for the next chapter with Lance, but Nail Breakers was a wild, fabulous ride.
“My turn,” Lance says, surprising her as he steps up to take Poppy’s place.
Poppy smiles stiffly and steps back, and Georgina’s stomach flutters as every pair of eyes moves in their direction.
“Y’all are just too precious,” Corrine purrs from a few feet away, snapping pictures on her phone as Lance pulls Georgina closer.
Georgina does her best to match his confidence as the press pelts them with comments and questions, but he’s better at this sort of thing than she is.
“Lance! Georgina! You both look incredible tonight!” A stunning woman with a microphone waves them down. “Some UpScale fans have commented that you two have such different styles. Do you think that’s going to be a challenge for Trending in Tennessee?”
There’s a collective swoon as Lance smiles charmingly at the crowd. “I don’t think so.” He glances back at Georgina with hopeful eyes. “We’re better together, right, G?”
It sounds like a champagne bottle popping or lipstick clattering—Georgina’s not sure which—but whatever it is jolts her awake. It takes her a full minute to realize she was dreaming before she rolls over and presses a hand against her gurgling stomach. She drank more than she should’ve last night and fell asleep as soon as Lance helped her unzip her dress.
The sadness seeps in again. She’d had a cute scavenger hunt planned to announce the pregnancy, starting with clues in the entryway and ending with a new super-sleek rocking chair in their guest bedroom. Thankfully, she remembered to pick up the notes and drop them in the trash before the party last night.
She reaches for her phone when it chirps, thankful for a distraction.
CAN YOU SAY POWER COUPLE??
Georgina clicks on the link from Annette, her publicist, and squints as images of her and Lance fill the screen. It’s a promotional video for Trending in Tennessee. Maren Morris’s song “Bones” blares in the background as Lance climbs ladders and swings hammers, followed by Georgina fluffing pillows and staging shelves. The solo moments culminate with them slow dancing together in a half-finished room. She frowns. Under normal circumstances she would love it, but seeing everything so perfectly edited feels wrong as her mind drifts back to the blood in the bathroom.
She shoves the thoughts away and slips on a robe, then pads toward the kitchen. Lance is already there, seated in the breakfast nook and slumped over his laptop. They’re both early risers, even when they’re out late.
“Hey,” he says, glancing up when he sees her.
“Morning,” she mumbles.
“Too much champagne?”
She smiles weakly as she measures out coffee beans. “Apparently.”
His fingers click against the keyboard. “There was a lot to celebrate.”
“Did you have fun?” she asks, raising her voice over the coffee grinder.
“Yeah,” he mumbles when she finishes.
Her mood lifts a little when their eyes meet. He’s even more handsome in the mornings, when his face is still relaxed. By the end of most days, his entire body is tense—one of the side effects of being on camera all the time.
“How was my speech?” she asks, hoping it wasn’t terrible. She can barely even remember it now, thanks to too many mixed emotions combined with alcohol.
“It was fine. You sounded nervous, but you got through it.”
Her eyes widen. “It was bad?”
He yawns. “I said it was fine, babe.” A ray of sunlight slices across his bare, muscled chest as his eyes narrow at something on the screen.
Insecurity fills her as she finishes the coffee. “I guess I was pretty nervous. Being compared to Joanna Gaines freaks me out a little,” she admits, joining him in the nook. Georgina has loved her for as long as she can remember, but those are some pretty fabulous shoes to fill.
“Yeah, I get it.” Lance sips as he scrolls. “And, like, is it even that great of a compliment?”
Her mouth falls open. “What? How is that not a compliment—”
