Page 27

Sophie

Afterbakingcinnamonrolls and playing dress up, I put the girls to bed. I think Penny had a great evening. There are girly girls—and then there’s Penny who’s on a whole other level. Possibly the girliest girl I’ve ever met.

She’s fabulous.

It was fun to have a little girls’ night. Growing up with three brothers and no sisters, I didn’t have many evenings spent watching princess movies and painting my nails.

But I want Samantha to enjoy all the girly things, and I know Penny will be more than happy to help me out in that department.

The girls are asleep, and Drew is still on his date. I savor the quiet house for a moment before turning Netflix on and finding something to watch. Odette has been insisting I watch this new historical drama, Bridgerton. And since I don’t have a TV downstairs, this is my chance. Grabbing a fluffy blanket, I curl up and make myself comfy.

Several hours later, I’ve binged half of the first season of Bridgerton. I’ve discovered this is not your ordinary period drama; it’s definitely more risqué than anything on MasterpieceClassic. My mother would never allow any shows like this in her home, no way. If my mom ever let us watch television, it was a documentary or something educational.

I’m immersed in watching a passionate scene between the duke and duchess when I hear the distinct sound of someone clearing their throat behind me.

I whip my head around to find Drew standing there with an amused look on his face.

“Um, watcha watching there?” He asks, his deep voice laced with mischief.

I whirl my head back around to the TV where the Duke of Hastings is about to lift the duchess's skirt over her head. With a gasp, I reach for the remote, accidentally knocking it onto the floor.

“Sorry!” Jumping up from the couch, I retrieve the remote again and press the pause button. “It’s just a historical drama,” I try to say nonchalantly, but it comes out in a squeak.

“Really?” Drew angles his head toward the TV.

I glance up and see that I’ve paused Bridgerton in the worst possible spot. I quickly turn the TV off.

“The Duke of Hastings, huh?” Drew asks in a mocking tone.

I quirk an eyebrow at him. “You’ve watched it?”

“No,” he chuckles. “But all the ladies at work talk about it.”

“It’s not the most wholesome show, but I got sucked in.” I attempt to disguise my humiliation with a laugh—unsuccessfully.

He puts his hands on his hips. “I have a feeling Diane Windell would not approve of you watching Bridgerton.”

I mirror his stance by putting my hands on my hips and glare back at him, suddenly feeling annoyed instead of embarrassed.

“Well, seeing as I am a 30-year-old adult human, my mother doesn’t get to dictate what I do with my time.”

He throws his head back and laughs. It’s a rich, husky sound that makes me feel warm all over. Really wish I could stay annoyed with him.

“Anyway, how was your date?” I ask, ready to change the subject.

One side of his mouth pulls up into a smile. “Pretty good, actually.”

He looks surprised while he says it, like he hadn’t expected the date to go well.

“Nice,” I say, wondering if I will ever feel ready to date. Maybe that’s part of this whole moving forward process.

I clear my throat. “Well, I’m going to head to bed. I’ll let you have your television back.”

“You’re fine, I’m going to sleep too.”

“Oh, right, goodnight then.”

“Goodnight, Sophie.”