“They won’t stop coming after you if I don’t.” He kisses her cheek and then walks over and takes Claudia’s hands. “This okay?” She nods. “God, I hate that I didn’t watch you grow.”
He lets go of her hands and cups her cheeks, swiping her tears away, and then leans in and kisses her forehead. “I would have found you if I’d just… believed her.”
“I didn’t want to like you, Arthur, but I do, because you raised a great woman, Sofie, whom I claimed as family before I knew she was. And Mom, who I knew as Sherry, could have told me who you were. She… I blame her.”
“Can I please, just for me?” Sofie asks, holding her phone up. “A picture?”
She takes a couple and then I take her phone, “Go, let’s get you all together.”
“Do you know how to take a photo? You have to make sure the lighting is?—”
“I’m sure I can take a picture better than you can skate, Tsarina,” I grumble.
Arthur laughs, and Sofie does too, and yes, tears fall when she does.
“You two get over here, I want Sofie to take a picture with you two Bears and me, edit it up and blast it on the socials.”
“Dad, you’re in your pajamas,” she whispers, as anyone outside of this room will hear her.
He looks down, “I’m sure you can make it look like a tux.”
As we stand beside Arthur Fairfax, a billionaire in pajamas, he whispers, “Hurt either of them and I will raise hell for you no matter where my mind or body are.”
Walking away, he tells Sofie, “She’s a good one. You make sure she knows I love her, like we didn’t miss a beat?”
She nods, and they stop at his door. He turns and takes her hands, “Remember me tomorrow?”
She hugs him, “I’ll remember you always.”
The penthouse is quiet, Arthur, whom I didn’t expect to like, but I do, is in bed. Claudia and Deacon are gone. Matteo has returned, unfortunately.
Sofie turns, motioning between us. “Okay. This needs to be addressed.”
I cross my arms and lean back against the wall.
“Don’t be AK,” she pouts, and I hate that I love it. “Be Aleks, right now.”
Fine.
Matteo steps forward. He looks uncomfortable, which is new. He holds out his hand, “I was wrong about you.”
I stare at his hand. He stared at mine once too, like it offended him that I existed.
Sofie sighs. “It’s midnight. You have a flight to catch. Shake his hand and accept his apology.”
“Is there a language preference?” I ask, and she throws her little hands in the air and brings them down, slapping her thighs.
“You said I would be broke, toothless, and irrelevant by thirty. That she’d spend her life paying for my mistakes and raising children that weren’t hers, because I couldn’t afford them.” I push off the wall, step closer, and switch to French without effort. “You worried about my career ending early? Perhaps you should worry about yours because you read me all wrong. Hell, you didn’t even know of me.” I finally take his hand, one shake. “Apology accepted.”
After he leaves, she looks at me and jerks her thumb over her shoulder toward her room.
“I should stay,” she says. “I think tomorrow might be a big day.”
I nod slowly, watching her fidget. The way she does when she’s thinking three moves ahead and pretending she’s not. I shake my head slowly side to side.
“No?” she asks.
“If you’re asking whether I think you should leave,” I say, “the answer is no.”
