"I waitressed at Denny's. Number one rule—you do not mess with people that handle your food," she had informed me very seriously, as if she were speaking gospel.
She genuinely listens when my mom speaks about how the phases of the moon can affect sleep and how Valerian has sedative properties. She doesn't flinch at Atticus' bluntness or try to pull Jane out of her quiet. She doesn't shrink away from Bailey's relentless joy or roll her eyes at April's pessimism. She allows everyone to simply be themselves.
She'll chat casually with regular customers at the shop, remembering their names, their favorite authors, and whether they prefer cozy small-town romance or friends-to-lovers.
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"You know you're pretty good at this," I comment after she made a recommendation to a customer. Sophie hops up onto the register counter when they're gone, her shoulders lifting in a modest shrug. There’s that shy little smile on her face that causes my gut to twist itself into knots.
"You want a job?" I ask her, only half joking.
"Depends," she looks at me with a raised eyebrow. "What are the benefits?"
"Well... discount on books," I start, pretending to think, "and you get to hang out with me, my mom, and Plot all day."
"Hm... very tempting," She makes a considering face as ifshe's being swayed. "Health insurance?"
I wince, tilting my head back and forth in a so-so motion. "Not great."
She sighs disappointedly and shakes her head, "Shame, I'd quit my other job in a heartbeat if I didn't have this pesky cancer thing. Probably better for the store anyway, I could do some serious damage in here with that discount. You'd be out of stock in a week."
I laugh, watching her own smile widen enough that her eyes crinkle at the edges. I love that she smiles with her whole face, so sunny that you can practically feel the warmth radiating from her when she does.
At that moment, Plot jumps up on the counter. We have graduated from letting Sophie pet him to letting her pick him up and cuddle him close. He cuddles into her chest with a sigh, as if he's had a long, stressful day, and I don't even want to acknowledge the jealousy I have toward this cat right now.
"Though I would love to hang out all day with this handsome little man," she says, nuzzling him gently.
Plot, that damn cat, looks almost smug as he cuddles into Sophie's embrace.
Sophie smiles over at me, and I feel the world tilt on its axis. I'm smiling back before I even realize I'm doing it. She's sitting there looking like pure sunlight, cradling my grumpy asshole cat, like she belongs here—like she's always belonged here—and I think she does.
She truly belongs here.
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And God, she'sfunny.
I love that we can joke back and forth, easily falling into conversation like we've known each other forever. I love thatshe's funny in a way that's never at anyone else's expense, usually just her own. She never takes herself too seriously, and while she's adopted a bit of gallows humor as a coping mechanism, I like that she's still able to laugh. I'm glad that I can make her laugh, even if it's usually because I accidentally say something that sounds like an innuendo.
To be fair, most of the women I talk to are the women in my book club, who I really see as the sisters I never had, or the older ladies who come into the store for cozy mysteries or Harlequins. The extent of our conversations is usually them telling me I remind them of their grandsons.
I'm used to conversations that center around tarot and tropes, not flirtation, so I suppose I am a bit out of practice.
I think the last real date I went on was over a year ago, set up by Bailey, who swore her coworker was perfect for me. It had been fine, we had dinner at a nice Italian restaurant, and while the conversation flowed easily between us, and she was a genuinely nice girl, there were no real sparks. We parted on the understanding that no romantic feelings were involved.
Then came Sophie.
This extraordinary woman breathes color into my life, fills voids I didn’t know existed. She is the missing piece that fits perfectly, quietly making my world whole.
I have already talked to Jack and Oliver about her during our regular catch-up call a couple of nights ago, something we try to do every couple of weeks when our schedules align.
At one point, we were in three different time zones, with Jack on deployment and Oliver in med school on the other side of the country. With Jack at Fort Bragg and Oliver in Houston, it’s easier nowadays to find times to talk.
As we usually did, we started our calls by asking if anything new was going on, and I told them about the brunette beauty who had walked through my door and changed everything.
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"... mom loves her, and Plot, the grey demon, loves her. Her name is Sophie..."
