Claudia’s jaw drops, and I laugh as I stand. “You know Paul there are little blue pills that can help you out if?—”
“Shut it down, Sassy, or I will repeat weird foreplay over and over again when I make you share a ride with me to the Pad.”
“You’re going back?” Claudia whispers as she takes Savannah.
“My head is not in the right place to deal with all that… man.” I look at Deacon, “And for the record, he stopped me from leaving for my own good. Offered to sleep on the floor, and I insisted he sleep in his bed, where I built a pillow wall and toldhim not to breach it. He is who, to the core, you know who he is. He is a good guy, an asshole, but in a way he needs to be and that is not something for me to share either, but it does hurt my soul that by the look on your face you don’t know what I’m talking about and that makes me want to give him back what he gave me last night and I am in no place to do that, so please kiss and make up.”
He nods, “Okay.”
I give him a hug and whisper, “He’s a good guy.”
His brows furrow, “I want you to think about one thing.”
“Okay.”
“Are you willing to give that warning to everyone you meet if things with him and you end up something more?”
I place my hand on my hip, “I’m Sofie -f’ing-Fairfax, I don’t have to defend myself to anyone who matters, and anyone who matters would already know he’s an asshole and like him anyway.”
He and Claudia exchange a look like they’re mentally high-fiving one another.
“The two of you need to give this space to breathe, and it is not likely to end up being anything. You promise me that, and I can promise you if it’s not there, there will be no sparing?—”
“Weird foreplay,” Paul adds.
“None of that, because he’s a great friend to all of you, and I could always add one to my roster.” I smile. “Plus, I am not naïve enough to believe all these feelings are not an aftereffect of falling in love with your love story.”
“But is he?” Deacon asks.
I smile so big it hurts, “You have no idea how happy it makes me to know he has you on his side. He deserves that and so much more.”
After dropping Paul off at the pad —in an Uber and not a vehicle driven by James— I head back to The Bridgeview, where I booked a suite. I am not ready to face anything without evidence, and Matteo and James know me better than I know myself at times; hiding it is not an option. That too is tomorrow, Sofie’s problem. That’s when Paul and I will meet Hugo in his unused, private Brooklyn Bears box to discuss his findings. Because today’s Sofie was involved in a covert operation. Earlier tonight, Hugo stopped by the suite so Paul could give him the information he had. He took Claudia’s brush along with a toothbrush she will no doubt miss. He asked me to do a swab of Savannah’s mouth, and I refused. If I were Claudia, I’d be pissed if someone did that without my consent.
Unbeknownst to anyone, I check into The Bridgeview instead of facing Matteo, whom I avoided this afternoon, by precisely timing when I stopped back home to check in on Dad, who has checked out again, and the staff.
After a shower, I throw on AK’s sweatshirt. I missed this stage in HS and college; I did not date jocks. Hell, I didn’t actually date at college either; it was hookups here and there. All of which made me want to bathe in bleach, and not because they were physically dirty, they were fuck boys. Typical of my age and stage, adding in my daddy issues, I was naïve enough to think one of them would be magically transformed from player to love of my life — like Nalani and Koa— and would for sure realize this because my pussy held magical powers.
After college, well, everything changed. There has been no time when real life has had to be staged for public consumption.So, this sweatshirt is healing my inner… something. Also, it’s just comfy and smells like him.
Now I’m lying on the bed, lights low, city noise muted behind glass, and I am kicking myself for not grabbing my weighted blanket when my phone buzzes against the duvet.
The screen tells me it’s an unknown call, and my stomach drops instantly.
I open the message.
Unknown:
Check your coat pocket.
Every hair stands up on my arms because this is how it works in the movies. Short messages, instructions, and power plays. For half a second, I’m convinced it’s something about the board. About a leak. About the takeover circling like Fairfax Media, like sharks.
My pulse spikes because fuck those two bitches, I hop out of bed, cross the room, shove my hand into the pocket, and pull out something hard in tissue paper, and … it’s an ornament.
Small, solid, not glass, ceramic, hand-painted. A simple white oval with evergreen branches around the edge. At the center, in neat green script:Aunt Sofie.
My throat closes. I don’t need to ask who it’s from, I know it’s Aleks.
He must have slipped it into my pocket at the market in a quiet yet deliberate way. No performance. Just… present.
