And even if it did, even if that was Vin’s way of telling me he’s sorry for all the terrible things he’s done to me, that he wants to marry me, it doesn’t matter. There’s no frigging way I could ever trust him. Not ever.
A knock at the door makes me jump so hard my chair rolls back and clips the shelving unit.
“Sorry.” Gavin is in the doorway, his hands raised slightly. “The hostess said you were back here. I didn’t mean to startle you.”
I press my hand against my chest and breathe out. “No, it’s fine. I just.” I gesture vaguely at the room. “I’m in my head.”
“I noticed.” He steps inside, his gaze scanning the stacks of invoices, the picture of my nonna on the shelf, the wilting mint plant I keep forgetting to water. “You looked stressed when I left the party today. I wanted to check in.”
“I’m fine,” I say, and I hope it sounds true. “Really. Just a long day. The party was lovely.”
He leans against the doorframe, arms folded, and looks at me. “Kitchen looks like it’s running itself.”
“Marco’s good.”
“So you don’t actually need to be down here.”
“I’m always down here. I’m working.”
“Sophie, you’re pacing in your office. That’s not working.”
I stop pacing, which I apparently started again without realizing it. “Okay, fine. It’s been a day.”
He pushes off the doorframe and tilts his head toward the ceiling, indicating the apartment above us. “Let me take you upstairs, make you some tea. You can sit on your own couch and stare at your own walls. It’ll at least be more comfortable than this.” He pauses. “I’ll be a gentleman. I promise.”
The kindness in his voice snags something in me. But instantly I’m back with Vin the night of my opening. Him carrying me upthe stairs and putting me in the bath. Rubbing my feet. Tucking me into bed. The thought makes me feel guilty, and I can’t tell if it’s because I’m thinking about Vin when I’m with Gavin or if it’s because I’m with Gavin and not Vin.
“Thank you,” I say. “Really. But I think I need a night to myself.”
He blinks, recalibrates, then nods slowly. “Okay.”
“It’s not—” I start, then stop. If I’m going to keep seeing this man I should probably tell him something true. “I was hurt in my last relationship, more than I usually admit to people. And I don’t want to rush into something new before I’m actually ready. It wouldn’t be fair to you.”
He’s quiet for a moment. “Does that mean you don’t want me around?”
“No. It means I need tonight.”
He looks at me in a way that is both flattering and terrifying, and I don’t entirely know what to do with it.
“You’re special, Sophie,” he says, quietly. “I don’t mean that as a line. I mean that you are genuinely unlike anyone I’ve met.”
I open my mouth to deflect,oh thank you, that’s very kind of you to say, but—He crosses the small distance between us, cups my jaw, and kisses me before I can form the sentence.
It is our first kiss. I know I should feel something. He is objectively handsome, beyond kind, a patient man who brings amazing sandwiches and knows my staff and shows up to checkon me when I flee parties without explanation. I wait for the warm gravitational shift I expect to feel.
What I feel instead is Vin. Vin’s hands on my hips, Vin’s mouth, Vin’s hard cock pressed against me. It floods in so fast and so real I have to stop myself from making a sound that has nothing to do with the man currently kissing me.
When Gavin pulls away, I grab his jacket and pull him back to me, kiss him again, hard and deliberate. I try to be here, present with Gavin and Gavin only, in this moment. I try to feel something clean and uncomplicated.
It doesn’t work.
He smiles when I pull back, pleased, and I smile back because I don’t know what else to do.
“Thank you for checking on me,” I say. “I appreciate it. I do have some things to get through tonight but I’ll text you.”
He tucks a piece of hair behind my ear and nods. “Get some rest.”
“I will.”
