I blink, a little surprised. Most women want at least a hint of a future. And unlike other women, I hadn’t given my speech about how I don’t do relationships. Not yet.
“If that’s what you want.”
“Is that whatyouwant?” She looks up at me with earnest blue eyes.
“Sure,” I say, just to make it easy. Easy for her. Easy for me. Because if I was honest with her and myself, I would have saidhell no.
She smiles. “You don’t seem like the type that wants a girlfriend.”
“I’m not the type.” It’s the truth. I don’t know why I want to see Sophia again. Why I’m almost desperate to see her again.
“Me either. At least not now,” Sophia muses.
“Why not now?” I ask quietly, twirling one of her dark curls around my finger.
“I’m moving up. Got promoted,” she says idly.
I hum. “Promoted, huh? So you’re gonna lock up all the bad guys?”
She looks at me over her shoulder, grinning. “At least most of them.”
“And what if I’m a bad guy?”
She grins wider. “Then I’ll lock you up.”
I scoff. “You can try.”
She hums out a nonsense reply, falling asleep on my chest. What the hell is wrong with me? Why am I so worried she’ll disappear?
My grip around her tightens.
I slowly doze off. When I wake up, Sophia is gone, and her house is empty.
I stay for an hour or two, resisting the urge to go through her things. I know where she lives. She can’t completely disappear.
I won’t let her disappear. When I want something, I go after it.
And I want Sophia.
5
SOPHIA
THREE YEARS LATER
“Please don’t,” I plead, begging, practically on my knees.
“Not these ones!” Rosa screams, kicking and screaming in the car seat, throwing her little body to-and-fro.
“The pink ones?” I ask desperately, and Rosa scream–nods, a thing I wouldn’t have thought possible until today.
I pick Rosa up, tucking her under my arm even as she yells and writhes, and grab her pink patent leather shoes from upstairs.
The black ones have been her favorite for months, but apparently that’s over now. Pink is definitely in.
Once I change the dreaded black shoes to the coveted pink ones, Rosa is as happy as can be, buckling herself into her car seat with a little half-grin.
I take her to Aunt Agnes’ house, just down the street.
