"She's okay," I say, glancing over to Sophie, who smiles when she hears the nickname my mom uses while asking about her. "We'll be home soon."
"Bring herhere." My mom orders, brooking no arguments from either of us. "Power's been flickering in and out here. Joan and Deb have already lost power in their neighborhood, and I don't know if Sophie's apartment has a generator."
When I glance over to Sophie, she nods her head in agreement, and I grab her hand to place a kiss on her fingers. "Will do."
"Oh, no," she mutters suddenly, sighing deeply.
"What?"
"Wejust lost power."
"Damn," I grind out, hating how out of control everything is feeling right now. "I'll hook up the generator when I get home."
"Be careful, Callum." Her tone changes—low and firm, that strange, quiet certainty she gets sometimes, like she's half in this world and half in another. "This storm's going to be a bad one."
I close my eyes as the thunder crashes above us, and I feel Sophie's hand squeeze mine.
"I will."
???
Despite Sophie's protests, saying that she could walk, I still carry her inside. My mom's waiting at the store's front door and holding it open for us. I try to ignore the way her face tightens when she sees Sophie, worry lines sprouting outside her eyes and mouth. Sophie's head lolls against my chest, eyes fluttering open and still attempting to smile at my mom.
"Hi, Maeve," she rasps, her voice barely audible over the thunder.
"Hello, sweet dove," my mom murmurs, brushing a damp strand of hair from Sophie's forehead. The hat slipped off in the car somewhere, and my mom's smile falters when she feels Sophie's skin. She meets my eyes for a moment, a brief flash of alarm reflected in them.
"I know," I whisper, my voice low and tight.
We leave our bag in the car and hurry upstairs. Mom races ahead, opening doors. Candles light the dark apartment, and I carry Sophie straight to my bedroom. Mom throws back the covers so I can lay her down, then rushes out on a mission. I quickly grab a dry t-shirt, and she returns, tossing me a pair of pajama pants from her own closet.
Nodding in thanks, she closes the door to give us privacy, and I walk over to the bed. Gently removing the wig from Sophie's head, I lay it carefully on my side table, knowing how much it means to Sophie and not wanting it to tangle.
I easily lift Sophie, helping her sit up and say, "Let's get you out of these wet clothes, huh?"
Her shaky hands help me pull off her clothes, and she giggles softly, "Always trying to get me out of my clothes, huh?" she jokes.
I can't help but smile at her still being silly, hoping that maybe it's a good sign that she's feeling okay.
Maybe she's just exhausted. Maybe this busy weekend wore her out too much, and she just needs a day of rest.
Maybe...
I can't help the soft laugh that escapes me. "Can you blame me, baby? Have youseenyou?"
Her tired giggle turns into a breathy cough, and I press a hand against her back until it passes. I pull off her wet shirt and bra, pulling the navy shirt over her head that practically swallows her whole. I help her settle back against my pillows, pulling off her shoes, socks, and jeans. She lifts her hips and helps me pull the black pants on.
She hums in pleasure when the dry clothes are on, and it makes me smile. Her eyes open a little wider—they're still a little glassy—but she looks right at me.
I gently cup her cheek, and she smiles, "You make me..." she trails off, her voice a little slurred and garbled.
"What, baby?" I ask, leaning closer, brushing my thumb along the apple of her cheek.
Her brow furrows, "... it wasn't me...whyhe cheated on me..."
My heart stutters at her words, but I stay silent and let her speak.
"... it was him... his choice... his loss..."
