Chapter 36
Ashton
“How’s the foot today?” I demand when I get to Sophie’s room.
“About the same,” Sophie says, turning over a card. She starts out every morning with a game of solitaire. Sometime I bug her by picking out matches that she hasn’t seen yet, but today I don’t go over to the table.
If I do, I’m going to want to kiss her.
It’s a problem I’ve had since our little exchange last week. I find myself staring at Sophie’s mouth at odd times, focusing on what her lips look like when she’s speaking, smiling, and even eating. I can’t stop looking at her mouth, wondering how I can get her to kiss me again.
Something inside me tells me that she needs to initiate another kiss. Maybe it’s the threatening conversation I had with Duncan in the car. Maybe it’s the idea that I think Sophie will kiss me back regardless if I kiss her, but I want her to mean it. I want her to want it.
I don’t want it to be because she pities me because of a stupid first kiss story.
“Feel like an adventure today?”
She looks up at that. Once we explored every floor of the castle, plus the dungeons, we started outside. We trudged out to the greenhouse one afternoon to look at the flowers.
One of Kalle’s security team gave Sophie a piggyback there. I could have carried her, but there’s the whole wanting to kiss her thing going on. As well as kissing her, I want to touch her all the time.
Could be awkward, so I try to keep my distance.
“What kind of adventure?”
At first glance, it may look like I’ve been entertaining Sophie since her injury. I try my best to amuse her—playing games, reading and watching TV to keep her occupied. But what people don’t know is that it’s Sophie who has kept me from being completely bored while I’m in Laandia.
She’s like the cool babysitter.
She’s the coolest one I’ve ever had.
And while I’m here, there’s no one else I’d rather be with. Sophie has kept me in Laandia for weeks—an unheard of record. I don’t remember the last time I stayed anywhere for that long, let alone a country with freezing cold temperatures and where I’m not even skiing.
I stayed for Sophie—not because my father told me too, but because of Sophie.
“My favourite kind. The shopping kind.”
Sophie shakes her head and lays another card down. “Didn’t you do enough of that with Fern yesterday? Fifi? Is that just a friend thing? What am I supposed to call her?”
“You can call her whatever you want,” I say, finally moving to the table to help Sophie finish the game. “Or don’t call her anything. I think you got introduced because Lyra wasn’t here.”
“Does everyone know her except for me?”
There’s a sharp tone in Sophie’s voice. I was once accused of being oblivious to relationship problems, but I catch on to this pretty quickly. Sophie has an issue with Fifi.
And I would bet money that it’s because of me.
Before Sophie, I would be happy about that. I’d be smug and satisfied at the thought of two women being interested in me. Fighting over me. What guy wouldn’t want that?
But now? I don’t want Sophie upset over anything, especially something that doesn’t exist.
There is no me and Fifi. She offered, I declined. End of story. I suspect she’ll avoid me for a day or so, and then it will all go back to normal.
There is nothing for Sophie to be concerned with, but how do I bring that up without getting into a whole discussion about if we’re just friends, the Kiss, and all the other stuff I’ve been pushing aside.
It’s become a heavy load, and I think I’m done with that.
“I have no idea who knows Fifi, or what they know about her. Nor do I care. I do care about why you aren’t as excited to go shopping with me as you should be.”
“I’m not really up for shopping.” She points to her leg.
I’ve spoken to the doctors. I’ve done the research. I know what to expect from Sophie’s recovery.
And I think her recovery is right on track for an adventure in Battle Harbour today.
Showing Fifi around yesterday gave me a new appreciation for the little town. The Christmas wreaths and holiday decorations in the stores have been replaced by posters about the Sea Queen Dance on Friday.
Spending so much time at the castle made me forget about the dance.
I hope Sophie hasn’t forgotten about it.
I bend over her foot, resting on a chair, just like it’s supposed to be. “Looks like a foot. And I know you have a walking boot. Which you won’t need in less than three weeks. Your foot is almost healed.”
“That’s a doctor decision. When did you talk to my doctor?”
“I talked to Google.”
“Google?”
“I googled your foot, okay. I listen when during your doctor comes to visit, but I wanted to know more, so I checked into it. You should be fine for a little outing.”
“You Googled me?”
“You make it sound like I checked out your LinkedIn page. Which you really should update, by the way. It’s not like you haven’t done the same to me.”
“I don’t Google you though.”
“You can. I’ve got nothing to hide. Now go get ready. We’re going into town. I borrowed Gunnar’s security detail so they’ll get us there and hang around to bring us back. Also to give you piggybacks.”
“I don’t need a piggyback.”
“You sure? Might be fun.”
Not for me. I don’t want to see anyone else carry Sophie.
“If I find you the dress, you’re going to the dance,” I decide, flipping over another card because she’s too slow. “That’s the deal.”
“I didn’t make that deal with you. Or any deal.”
“But you are now, so don’t bother arguing with me. There’s no point.”
“Is Fifi coming with us?” she asks in a small voice.
I was right. There is an issue, and there doesn’t need to be one. “No.”
“Why don’t you take her shopping?”
“Because I don’t want to.”
“But she’s your friend.”
“I don’t have a problem hanging out with my friends, but not today.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Clearly. Look, Soph, if I go with Fifi, you’ll sit here with sad eyes and pout and wonder what I’m doing and what’s wrong with you that I didn’t want to go into town with you. So I’m going take you and prevent all that.”
“That sounds like a great invitation,” she says sarcastically.
I like it when she’s sarcastic. It shows her feisty side, which hardly ever comes out.
Maybe it only comes out with me. “It is. Go get your coat.”
She huffs a sigh. “Where are we going shopping?”
I knew she’d give in. I can wear anyone down.
I learned that from my sister.
“There’s really not that many options,” I tell her. “But you need a dress for the dance.”
“What dance?”
“The Dance of the Sea thing?”
“The Sea Queen ball,” Sophie corrects. “I don’t need a dress for that because I’m not going.” She gestures to my foot. “There’s no point.”
My heart sinks a little. What has been done to Sophie to make her so oblivious to so many things?
If this Martin guy is responsible… “There’s always a point.
You’re getting stronger and better with your walking.
Dancing is just one step above walking. If we find you a dress that makes you feel as incredible as you are, I will figure out how to get you to dance. ”
“Who am I supposed to dance with?” she demands.
“Me.”
Silence follows the word and Sophie looks everywhere but at me.
The pause is so long that I start to wonder that maybe I got this wrong.
Maybe Sophie isn’t falling for me. Maybe she still has a thing for that Marvin or Martin guy.
Maybe, deep down, she’s a truly pathetic dancer, even without the broken toes.
Maybe, deep down, she hates me for breaking her toes.
“You should go with Fifi,” Sophie finally says, which doesn’t help at all with the inner thoughts running rampant through my head. “She can dance.”
I put the six of hearts onto the seven of clubs, and finish the row, which I know she hates. But I’m in the mood to shop. And shop with Sophie. And other things with Sophie… if she wants that too. But if she doesn’t… “I could,” I say, trying for extra-casual. “She asked me.”
“Oh.”
That tiny word sends my hope—and confidence—surging. Because that was the oh of someone who would be very disappointed if I were to go to the dance with someone else, regardless if she was going or not.
“I said that I was waiting for someone else to get around to asking me,” I add. “But I’m starting to lose hope.”
Sophie looks up. Her eyes are wide, and there’s no way she can hide the hopefulness. At least I hope it’s hopeful. “Who?” she asks in a strangled voice. “Who are you waiting for?”
“Sophie,” I tsk as I lift her chin with a finger. “Did you have a concussion that I don’t know about? Because I thought I’d been pretty obvious about things.”
“You haven’t,” she says, with a little too much emphasis for my liking.
I nod ruefully, holding her brown-eyed gaze captive. This close, I can see the gold and green flecks in her eyes. The way her lashes are thick and sweep her cheeks.
Why do we have to talk about things? Is that just something that women expect, or do men really want the long, where do we go next discussions? Because I am not a fan.
“Ok,” I say.
I’m tired of talking. I’m ready to just do.
I lean down, the scent of strawberries and cookies surrounding me, and find Sophie’s lips with mine.
I’m also tired of waiting.