“No, it’s okay. My mother got sick when I was fifteen—pancreatic cancer.” The words sounded so matter-of-fact, nothing like the horror show of the actual disease. Concern etched Sarah’s face, but the other woman stayed silent, waiting for whatever Sophie wanted to share. “They caught it really late. Stage IV. She didn’t have much time after that.”
“I’m so sorry, sweetheart.”
Useless words she’d heard a hundred times before but the intention was right. Sophie knew she was trying to empathize and that counted for something.
“My brother took care of me.”
In the beginning, they’d been like zombies moving around the house without their mother, but they’d figured it out. Noah took care of the bills and stuff around the house, and she did the laundry and figured out how to microwave meat pies. Not what they were used to, but they survived. It would have been a thousand times worse if she’d had to go live with strangers. They didn’t have any other family. If her brother hadn’t been willing to put his life on hold for her, she wouldn’t have had a choice.
“Do you just have the one brother?”
And just like that, they hit the disaster of her past, the part she couldn’t talk about without seeming like a tragedy case. The loss she couldn’t get through without breaking down.
“Yes.” She nodded, knowing what came next and not wanting to go there, not even with a woman as warm and obviously loving as Sarah. “We’ve talked about me the whole time. Tell me about your family.” She put a spoonful of chili in her mouth so she couldn’t say anything else.
Emerson’s mother watched her for a moment, tipping her head to the side, and Sophie could have sworn she knew the whole thing was a diversion tactic. Apparently accepting it for what it was, she gave Sophie a smile.
“Emerson and Gabe have two sisters: Amanda and Rebecca. Amanda recently got engaged to a nice young man named Michael.” Sarah’s face lit up as she spoke about her children. “Becca is an attorney and works too hard. That seems to be a common trait for my children—all except Gabe.” She smiled to herself and Sophie didn’t have to wonder how she felt about her family. The love was written on her face.
Without warning, the front door opened and Sophie gripped her bowl of chili tighter, as if the stoneware would somehow protect her from an intruder. She relaxed her grip when Emerson made his way into the kitchen, looking like a man on a mission. She was holding back judgment as to whether it was a good thing or bad.
“Hello, Momma,” he said, leaning in to brush a kiss over his mother’s cheek.
Part of her wished he’d greet her with a kiss too. Instead, he looked at her sitting opposite of his mother as if she’d become something dangerous. Like a ticking bomb or something. Okay, so probablynota good thing.
––––––––
GABE CLEARLY HAD adeath wish. Nothing else explained why he’d call their mother and tell her about Sophie. The bastard had been so damn happy with himself, strolling into his office and casually mentioning he thought their mother planned to drop by to check on the woman he had staying in his apartment. That’s how he said it,the woman, as if she were something other than just a client. He ignored for the moment that Sophie hadn’t hired them, and if Gabe hadn’t cockblocked him the other night, he might have already crossed the line with her into something beyond client. Hell, if he was being honest—which he wasn’t—she was already so much more.
He adored his mother. She didn’t meddle in his life—not more than was to be expected, anyway. He wasn’t sure why the idea of her and Sophie spending time together threw him into such a tailspin. He couldn’t imagine his mother would do anything but love the innocent young woman who’d been thrust into the middle of this mess. And it didn’t seem like Sophie had an abundance of—or even any—family in her life. She’d probably welcome a little maternal attention. He ought to be happy she was getting some extra attention instead of being stuck in his apartment all day by herself.
Emerson wasn’t happy. All he could think about was the two of them together in his space, getting to know each other while his too-perceptive mother drew conclusions she shouldn’t. That wasn’t fair. If he hadn’t kissed Sophie, there’d be nothing for his family to ferret out, and he just couldn’t bring himself to regret the kiss. If he was being honest with himself, half the reason he was freaking out was because he had every intention of doing it again. And he had a feeling there was more truth in the conclusions his mother likely jumped to than he was comfortable admitting.
He didn’t know what Sophie was to him, but she was more than a client. He blew past Smithson at the door to his apartment, barely managing a grunt of acknowledgment when the other man said, “Your mom’s waiting inside. She’s great.”
Heading straight for the kitchen, he found his mother feeding a nervous-looking Sophie. Forcing himself to dial back the crazy, he pressed a kiss to his mother’s cheek and then stopped himself before he circled the counter and pulled Sophie into his arms.The woman was dangerous.Having her waiting at home for him was dangerous. Letting his family get close to her was dangerous. If he started thinking of her and home and family at the same time, he’d never be able to maintain the distance he needed. Not that he’d managed it all that well so far.
“Your mother was kind enough to bring me lunch,” said Sophie, watching him warily, like the slightest move might set him off.
He didn’t blame her, but it was the opposite of the effect he wanted to have on her. He wanted to be the one who made her feel safe, not scare her.
“And Sophie was kind enough to tell me about her family and share her gorgeous work with me.” His mother arched an eyebrow at him, asking without words what was wrong with him.
“I’m glad you weren’t alone all day. I was worried about you.”There, that at least was the truth.Thinking about Sophie distracted him from everything else he’d tried to accomplish that day.
They hadn’t made any progress on Rainier’s murder and it didn’t sound like the police had anything either. He felt the frustration start to close in on him again and then his gaze landed on the makeshift workspace Sophie had set up on his kitchen table, and the meaning of his mother’s words finally hit him. He’d been wondering about Sophie’s past for days. Every time he asked, she’d dodged. Not in a suspicious way; more like it was uncomfortable and she didn’t want to relive it. It was the reason he hadn’t pushed and the reason he’d been dreading sitting her down and asking her the questions he needed answers to. With no other obvious leads, Sophie’s past was the next logical place to look.
In an afternoon, it sounded like his mother had found out more details than he had in days, which was the perfect kind of irony. She’d always had a way of making complicated things seem easy. It was something he’d admired but never managed to emulate.
“Can I see?” He crossed the room to the kitchen table but waited a step away until Sophie nodded her permission.
“Of course.” She remained seated, but he could see her lean forward, feel her interest in what he thought.
Not that he knew enough to have an opinion about jewelry. That was a better job for either of his sisters, but especially Becca. She’d been playing around with clothes and jewelry and makeup since she could walk. And shoes. How could he forget the shoes? He’d carried boxes and boxes of shoes when he helped his sister move into her new downtown apartment when she became an associate at her law firm.
He rounded the table to stand over the velvet-lined tray holding what looked like dozens of pearl flowers. He didn’t need to know anything about jewelry to know he was looking at something amazing. The tiny misshaped pearls were all different, just like the petals on a flower. Sophie had somehow managed to combine them in a way that made them more beautiful together. She really was an artist.
“Sophie.” He’d known she was good at what she did. He’d seen a few portfolio photos of her work on the jewelry store’s website, but he had no idea how seeing the work in person—in progress—would affect him. The honest beauty of the delicate creation stole his breath for a moment.
