TWENTY-FOUR
Sophia
The morning sun streams in through the large industrial window at the side of the room, warming everything that it touches, and I rub my eyes to greet it.
I could have almost forgotten that I had slept in Eric’s bed last night if it weren’t for having the best sleep of my damn life. What is this mattress made of, baby clouds raised to be slaughtered and used for their fluffiness? If I were Eric, I would never get out of bed in the morning. I would simply live in here and allow myself to rot because nothing could possibly be worth getting out of a bed this cozy.
Feeling around the bed, I realize that Eric isn’t in here. I know he definitely was last night; he had his arms around me at least until I fell asleep. Maybe he moved out to the couch afterward? No, that wouldn’t make sense. He would stay. After everything...he would stay.
I climb out of the bed, tucking the sheets back into place and giving the pillows a quick fluffing before I head out of the room and into the main room of the house. Eric sits at the island counter with a mug of coffee – I hope – in one hand and his phone in another, pressed against his ear.
“Morning, stranger,” I quietly greet him, and he smiles at me, making those little crinkles form at the corners of his eyes. I could melt under the warmth of that smile. Every timehe gives me one of them, I want to put it into a little jar and hold onto it forever because it does something to me that no one else’s ever has.
“Alright, old bastard, we’ll see y’all in a couple,” he tells the person on the phone before hanging up and setting the device onto the counter. “How’d you sleep, Sugar?”
“Good. Your bed is incredible.”
“Good.” He reaches for the waistband of the shorts I’m wearing and uses it to pull me closer to him, until my chest is pressed against his body. “Listen, I got a couple people coming over who wanna talk with you about some stuff. So whatever you do to wake up in the morning, get it done, alright?”
“Okay, but do I need to remind you about the bed situation…?”
Laughing, he gets up and moves to a cabinet beneath the counter, pulling out a machine and setting it on the counter. He pulls open a drawer and reaches for three little pods, holding them up to me.
“Columbian, french vanilla or donut?” He asks, and I point to the vanilla pod. “Horrible taste,” he jokes as he drops it into the machine and presses START, setting a mug under the pour spout.
I reach for his mug, sitting on the island counter, and take a sip.
French vanilla.
Asshole.
His friends really do show up only a few minutes later, while I’m still dressed in his baggy clothes with no bra on or even a brush run through my hair.Awesome.
I recognize the one from last night, Colt. He’s dressed more in the way that I would expect him to be; with a perfectly-tailored, deep gray suit fitted to his body and some very-high-end looking shoes on his feet. I don’t know the woman with him, though. She’s much younger than the guy, maybe even younger than I am. Her hair is a sandy brown, tiedback into a dutch braid that hangs down to her lower back, and she’s dressed in a fitted white t-shirt paired with beige linen pants, tied at the waist with a sweet little bow.
The girl leans on a cane as they walk in together, and that’s when I notice that they’re both wearing rings. If he’s the dad friend, does that make her the mom? Are theymarried?
“You already met Colt,” Eric tells me, and his friend gives me a friendly nod in greeting. “This is Rowan, Colt’s wife. She’s family. You can trust her.”
“I amsoexcited to finally meet you!” The girl practically squeals as she moves toward me to wrap me in a hug that could just about break my ribs. “Davis has not shut up about you formonths.”
“Hi,” I laugh, “it’s nice to meet you, too.”
Colt’s hand lands at his wife’s lower back – maybe to protect her, maybe to support her, maybe to be possessive – I can’t tell one way or the other. “Shall we?”
“Let’s do it,” Eric nods.
I follow the three of them to the couch at the center of the room, each of us taking our seats; Rowan sitting close to Colt and me settling in close to Eric.
“Davis told me about the offer that he made you,” Colt tells me, “and I would like you to seriously consider it. There’s no reason for you to stay in a dangerous environment that leaves you exploited.”
Suddenly, I’m embarrassed. I don’t normally get flustered about my job; it just kind of is what it is at this point. It wasn’t what I thought I was going to do when I applied there, but it’s just a fact of life now. I hate it, it drains my soul, but I’m stuck, and there’s nothing that I can do about it, so who cares who knows what I do? It will never change, right?
But sitting in front of three people who have enough money together to probably buy the fucking planet, being called out for my job…It’s embarrassing.
“I really appreciate it,” I offer, “but I can’t quit. No onequitsworking for Nash Montgomery.”
“It would seem that plenty of people do.” Colt pulls out his phone, scrolling for a while before finally handing it to me. There’s a bunch of legal jargon on the screen that I can’t understand. “This is a copy of the non-disclosure agreement which his employees are required to sign upon leaving.Thisis why no one talks about quitting; or at least why you don’t hear of anyone talking about quitting.”
