She gives me a forced smile before I make my way into the hallway. I nod at my four soldiers, two standing outside my door and two outside of Elena’s—just to be sure.
I try to snap myself out of the funk that conversation put me in. Sometimes I feel like everyone else got a guidebook to navigating basic human relationships that I never received. I suppose I could have some type of diagnosable thing… but I know deep down it’s the amount of isolation I was under growing up.
Sofia is still on the couch where I left her. Despite her not needing to get dressed or ready for anything, her hair looks perfect. Her eyelids smoky. She even has accessories to match her outfit. In fact, ever since we nearly screwed over my office desk, she’s dressed up and looked nice. Seductively, too. Yesterday morning she was in these tiny spandex shorts that left no room for my imagination. She catches me staring at her from the hallway, and she smiles at me. Smiles. Believe me, I know this isn’t sincere and she’s shifting her escape plans from launching herself over to my sister’s balcony to getting in my pants to see if that will help her.
The problem is—I fear that it’s working.
“Can I ask you something?” I say before I question whether this is a good idea.
She smiles. “That depends.”
“On what?”
“What you’d do to me if I refused to answer you.”
I take a seat next to her, trying my best to ignore what she said, but I’m sure she can see that I’m flustered. “My sister, Elena… she seems depressed, and I don’t know why.”
“Well?” Sofia crosses her legs. “What’s going on in her life? Does she suffer from clinical depression or anything like that?”
“No, and no. The only thing different in her life is that I got married to you.”
“Does she hate me?” She shrugs, her gold earrings jingling at the sides of her face. Those are new. She’s had basic studs in since the day of our wedding.
“No. She even seemed concerned about you.”
“Are you spending less time with her? You eat nearly all of your dinners with her, so I can’t imagine it’s that she misses you.”
I look away, feeling guilty. I told Sofia that I was going over to Elena’s most evenings, but I’ve been eating my meals in isolation in my office; Elena is often too busy.
“Have you tried simply asking her?” Sofia asks.
“I asked her if she was ill and…”
“Stop.” Sofia covers her mouth with one hand to laugh and rests her other hand on my arm. My heart pounds in my chest at this bit of contact. “You asked her if she was sick? Are you crazy? Never ask a woman that. Do you know how annoying it is when we get that question and we only look ‘sick’ because we didn’t put makeup on yet?”
Shit. Maybe that’s all that was going on with her. Again, is that in a book somewhere that everyone has read except for me?
Sofia’s brown eyes are glowing as she fights back more laughter. She’s a good actress. Even though I’m sure she wants to be laughingatme right now, her body language seems like she’s laughingwithme.
“Huh.” I pull my arm away, feeling as though I’ve lost this exchange in many ways. Then I stand up and take a few steps towards the hallway.
“Wait.”
I nearly ignore her and close myself in my room, but it’s Sofia, so I turn around at her request.
“I wasn’t trying to upset you.” She leans forward, her v-neck top showing off her cleavage. “You’re just… funny sometimes without realizing it, I think.”
I snap my eyes back to her face, sensing the trap. “Just… please attempt not to talk to me the rest of the day.”
She deflates at this and mutters under her breath, “You talked to me first.”
I leave her alone and close myself away, feeling completely out of control of my life—like I’m fucking everything up.
Chapter 17
Sofia
Heendsthecallbefore I can even say goodbye. Another evening, another three-minute emotional video call that leaves everyone in my family unsatisfied. My mother’s concerned expression stays plastered in my mind’s eye as Alessandro moves the tablet into his locked drawer of electronics. Believe me, I’ve tried to get into this drawer in the bedroom. It’s impossible.
