Chapter 28
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
SOPHIE
Conversation with Rob
Sorry!
You know what? We’re texting, so I can say it as many times as I like. Sorry, sorry, sorry.
This was a weird day. A hard day.
And there’s been an interesting development. Can I call you?
Come over. I need to see you.
Isn’t it a little late?
Stay over.
I’m with my friends. It’ll be a while. Are you sure you’ll be up?
I’ll be waiting for you.
I still feel off as I drive to Rob’s apartment. Nervous and guilty and wrong . But I’m also deeply curious about what his apartment looks like. I want to see it, and to see inside of him. To know him. I want…
Things I have no business wanting, even if it’s starting to seem like he might want them too.
I park the car in the underground lot, surprised by how nice the building is. They’re loft apartments, the kind that probably cost a bundle to rent. I ascend the stairs but pause before knocking, because he’s singing.
Dear God.
I’ve always appreciated his voice—throaty and low and very sexy—but this isn’t one of his usual angry or sad songs. It’s…beautiful.
Like sunshine and fire.
It’s her I desire…
I want to soak it up and internalize it, so it can play in my head while I go about my day, my own personal earworm.
I find myself pressing my ear to the door.
I don’t fully register the sound of the stairwell door opening across the hall until I notice a teenage kid skulking in with shifty energy. His eyes widen when he sees me looking like a weirdo with my ear pressed flat against Rob’s door.
I pull away so abruptly I almost trip. “I won’t tell if you don’t.”
“Are you a stalker?” he asks, hanging back near the stairwell door.
“No. I’m an invited guest. Were you out drinking and smoking pot?”
The look on his face says it all.
“I’m guessing you weren’t supposed to do that,” I say as the music inside cuts off.
The kid gives me a dark look. “You’re a narc?”
No. More like I know where that kind of thing can lead. I’m tempted to warn him, but I plant my feet and say, “You could get into big trouble creeping around at night.”
If I’m a hypocrite for saying it, so be it.
“And you could get into big trouble listening at people’s doors. I’m not going inside until I know you’re not a stalker.”
Holy crap. I did not need another thing to go wrong with my day, but I nod my acceptance of the teenager’s terms and knock on Rob’s door. Seconds later, it swings open, revealing Rob in a purple T-shirt and a pair of gray sweatpants that deserves an award. My lips part in surprise. Did he wear that shirt because we’re up to purple?
“Do you know this woman?” the teenager asks sternly, pulling his shoulder-length blond hair back into a loose ponytail.
“Yeah,” Rob says, with a slow grin spreading across his face. “This is my friend, Sophie.”
“She had her ear pressed to your door. That’s a red flag, my man. And then she tried to bribe me into silence.”
Rob looks like he’s holding back hysterical laughter. Meanwhile, my face is burning.
“Thanks for looking out, but I like red flags. Have a good night.”
Rob tugs me inside and shuts the door behind us before pushing me against it. My breath catches in my lungs.
“Look at you, Pollyanna,” he says with an amused curl of his lips. “Feuding with teenagers. What’s next? Are you going to declare war on Dottie’s Wise Women Group?”
“Stop,” I say, laughing despite myself. “I was embarrassed. He caught me in the act.”
He runs his fingers through my hair and then dips them behind my ear. My nerve endings practically purr in delight.
“You were listening to me sing. I like that. Even if you were being super creepy about it.”
“It was beautiful,” I say, the truth tumbling out. “My favorite of your songs.”
“Because this one was written for you.” He grins at me, and I feel my heart quaking in my chest, so afraid and full of wanting. “But don’t worry. This one’s not about your perfect nipples. I’m keeping that one just for us.”
I give his chest a gentle shove. “You didn’t write a song about that.”
“I did, and I’ll play them both for you, but there’s something I want to tell you first.”
He takes my hand, and I let him lead me over to the couch, a leather futon. Across from it is an exposed brick wall with an alcove, where there’s a photo of Rob and a beautiful older woman next to the TV.
“Is that your mom?”
“The other Patricia Price,” he says with a half-smile. “Now Patricia Aycock. You can imagine how much she must hate my father to have willingly taken her second husband’s name. Can I get you a drink? I’ve got some soda and iced tea.”
I grasp his hand, feeling awash with nerves. “Actually, I brought us something special to drink. Dottie and I have finalized a couple of the drinks we’ve been working on.”
“I’ll get us a couple of glasses,” he says, squeezing my hand before releasing it.
I take the few seconds he’s gone to search around, soaking in the old bookshelves pushed up against the wall, filled with fat paperbacks. There’s what looks like a setlist lying out on the coffee table, next to a lined yellow pad covered in pencil scratch. There’s a thick rug underfoot, over a hardwood floor, and exposed beams overhead.
It’s warm and cozy.
“Go ahead,” Rob says, emerging from the kitchen with the glasses, which he sets on the coffee table. “Continue your mission of stalking. My underwear is in the top right drawer of my dresser.”
I roll my eyes and pull the two bottles out of my bag. “I’d prefer them off.”
He smiles but doesn’t reach for me. He doesn’t tug me off my feet and bend me over the couch.
My heart starts thumping faster again. We really are going to talk, then, and I’m not sure if I’m ready to. I’m not sure about anything other than that I’m happy to be here with him.
I think about what Hannah said: Let the present become the future.
“This is the Sunshine Spritzer,” I say, pouring some for each of us before sitting next to him, our thighs pressed together.
He whirls the drink around in his glass, smiling at me with a spark of appreciation in his eyes, and then lifts it for a sip. His smile spreads. “Holy shit, this is good. Do you know how good this is? It tastes like you bottled up all your positivity and gave it to me.”
I feel some of the heaviness of the day lifting and smile back at him. “It is, right? They’re putting my drinks on the menu starting next week. I think we really have something here.”
“Are they paying you extra for this?”
I cringe a little, because the thought honestly hadn’t occurred to me. Isn’t it enough to get the recognition from Dylan? The help from Dottie? “I’m sure they’ll do something if it’s successful.”
“You don’t know what you’re worth,” he says, nudging my knee with his.
It feels like he’s gripped the hurting place inside of me.
“I’m worth two fish entrées,” I say, the words seeping out of me the way they always seem to with him.
He frowns. “I’m not following, but I feel the need to point out that the fish on a menu is usually the most expensive.”
“This is bad fish,” I say, my voice quavering. “Rubbery.”
“Not ideal, but I bet we could work with it. Add a little parsley and lemon. Are you coming to dinner tomorrow night? We could give it a go.”
I pick at the collar of my T-shirt, a plain one today, from my old stash. This morning, I hadn’t felt special. “I should tell you what happened today. It’s about Jonah.”
A cloud passes over his face, and he sets his drink down. “That’s funny. I wanted to talk about Jonah too.”
“Oh, did you hear about the toilet-papering?”
He gives me a quizzical look, which slips into amusement. “Did you really toilet-paper his house?”
I duck my head into my hands, embarrassed. “Yeah, it was unplanned.” I tell him everything, including about the video his neighbor sent us. “Hannah thinks it might be GingerBeerBabe and that they’re together now.”
His gaze turns sharper, harder. “I don’t give a fuck who he’s seeing. He could be dating half this town for all I care, as long as he’s not dating you. Do you care?”
He sounds almost jealous. My pulse skips a beat, and I wrap a hand around his leg. “No. Not like that. I don’t care about this woman, but Hannah does. She doesn’t think he deserves to be happy.”
“He doesn’t,” he says, his jaw tensing. “You asked what he did to me…”
I feel like water starting to bubble on a hot burner. He’s going to tell me, and then I’m going to have to tell him.
“You don’t have to tell me what happened when you were younger, Sophie,” he says with a knowing look, reading right through me. “Not yet. But I hope you’ll want to. I don’t know how we can ever hope to know each other unless you do, and I want to know you. Just like I want you to know me.”
I swallow nothing, feeling lost. Feeling hopeful too.
“What did he do?” I finally ask, squeezing his thigh, needing the solid feel of him.
He lifts his right hand and shows it to me. I’m intimately familiar with it. Its calluses, its long, clever, well-formed fingers. The little white scars.
He points to the scars with his other fingers.
“I told you I was in Bad Magic. We were supposed to go on tour ten years ago. I was twenty-one. It felt like the beginning of everything. My life finally taking off. My mother was doing well…” His hand starts to tremble, and I take it in mine, feeling a rumble of foreboding.
“Jonah slammed my hand in a door. So hard it broke. He says it was an accident, but I saw the look on his face. He wanted to hurt me. Maybe he didn’t set out to break my hand, but he did it on purpose.”
I squeeze his hand, tears pricking in my eyes as horror blasts through me.
“I had to get surgery,” he continues, softly. “I couldn’t play for months. The doctors weren’t sure I’d ever be able to play the way I used to. Sometimes I think they were right. Anyway, I couldn’t go on tour with Bad Magic, so David, our lead singer, found a guy to take my place. The next summer they blew up. I cowrote a few of their first big singles with David, so I got a good amount of money from that. Still do. But that was it for me. I…we’d started the band together in his garage when we were in high school.”
Jonah had always acted like Rob was a loser, a leech, a burden on their family, and yet he had taken something precious from his brother. Worse, my heart told me that Rob was right. That Jonah had done it knowingly, maybe out of jealousy, and was only sorry afterward.
“That asshole ,” I say tightly. Then I remember what Rob told me a few weeks ago about regret. How regretting the bad parts of the past would mean forsaking every good thing that had happened since. “What you said the other night…do you really not regret it?”
He gives me a faint smile, his gaze far away. “Depends when you ask me. I went through a pretty dark time after that happened. I drank away three years of my life. I’ll always be ashamed of that, after having watched what my mother went through with alcohol. I knew what would happen, and I did it anyway. At the time, I didn’t care. But then I met Travis, and he saved my life. I’m proud of what we’ve built. I wouldn’t have any of that if I’d stayed with the band.
“So no, I don’t regret being here, with you. I don’t regret the life I’ve made, and I wouldn’t dismantle it for all the money Bad Magic has made. I still get royalties from some of their songs anyway, so I was able to buy this place and contribute to The Missing Beat. Otherwise it would all be on Travis.”
I feel tension building inside of me. He told me something that obviously wasn’t easy for him to share.
We made a deal…
Rules matter to me. They have ever since I broke one.
I take my hand away, feeling my whole body trembling.
“You don’t have to tell me anything, Sophie,” he says.
“I think I want to.”
Smiling, he says, “You don’t sound like you want to.”
“You understand.”
“I do.” Then he surprises me by pulling me onto his lap, his arms wrapping around me like they did when we took that photo the other week. “Maybe it’ll be easier like this,” he says into my ear.
I nod, feeling the familiar shameful burning in my eyes. “I got an RSVP from my parents this morning. They condescended to attend my cancelled wedding, and they’d both like the fish.”
“Some pieces of the puzzle are clicking together,” he says, nestling my head beneath his chin, his arms gripping me tightly, letting me know that I’m not alone.
I’m shocked to realize that I feel safe. I’ve never shared my story lightly, and it’s always been done with fear and tension, but I feel at peace in Rob’s arms. Cherished.
“I did something stupid when I was sixteen.”
“You and most teenagers.”
I swallow down a tide of emotion. “Most teenagers don’t burn down buildings.”
I expect him to say something, maybe no way or holy shit , or something glib like leave it to you to cause a fire.
But he just listens quietly, his arms still tightly around me.
“My parents were always busy,” I say. “I was an only child, and they never seemed to have time for me. I got in the way. So when I got a bit older, I started doing things to see if they’d react. Drinking from their liquor cabinet. Skipping classes. But they only seemed to care when it interfered with their schedule. Like if my mom or dad had to come pick me up early. I was an inconvenience. My school counselor told me I was getting in my own way, and she was right, obviously, but it was like I couldn’t stop. I needed something to happen.” I glance down at his hands, crossed over my chest, and the little white scars on his fingers give me the courage to continue.
My voice shaky, I say, “We always used to go to my grandparents’ cabin in the summers. Near Boone. Great-Aunt Penny would come too. And Otis. And a few other cousins. It was a whole thing. My parents made such a big deal of the importance of behaving myself at the cabin, like they suddenly cared, but I knew it was only because they saw me as a reflection of themselves. So I brought a pack of cigarettes I’d bought off an older kid. I didn’t even like smoking.” Tears prick at my eyes. “I didn’t put the cigarette out properly, and it was so dry that summer…
His arms tighten around me as a sob rips out of me.
“The cabin burned down,” he says softly.
I nod, tears coursing down my cheeks. “But it was worse than that. The fire spread through the woods before the firefighters could stop it. No one died, thank God, but my grandfather was hospitalized for smoke inhalation, and the cost…
“My parents had to pay over a hundred and twenty thousand dollars in fines, and they sent me to reform school as part of a plea deal. But I don’t think it was just because they had to. They didn’t want me anymore. They still don’t.”
I’m crying uncontrollably now, and he turns me in his lap to face him, his eyes so soft and warm that I cry harder. He rubs a soothing hand up and down my back. “And you’ve spent the last decade trying to make up for it by pleasing everyone. By serving them.”
“I didn’t please you,” I sniffled.
He lifts his fingers to my cheek, tracing the tears. “You please me, Sophie. You please me a whole hell of a lot.” He pulls me closer and presses a soft kiss to my lips, then to the tear tracks beneath my eyes. “You made a mistake, that’s all. We’ve all made mistakes.”
“Did yours burn acres of forest?” I ask, making a congested sound that could only very generously be called laughter.
“You were unlucky. That’s the only difference. But luck isn’t something that sticks, Soph. It’s not something we carry with us or lose. It’s random. And from what I can tell, you’ve paid for it. You’ve changed because of it. So why go on blaming yourself, honey? What good does it do anyone?”
I’m shaking as if I’m freezing, the tears still coming hard and fast. He wasn’t supposed to understand. He was supposed to send me away…
I’d been preparing for it.
“They never forgave me,” I say in a ragged voice.
“They sound like assholes, if you’ll forgive me for being blunt.” He strokes my hair from my face with one hand, pulling me closer with the other. “But I’ll bet all of this brought you closer to your aunt. Your cousin.”
“When I heard she was sick, I had to come help her. She was the only member of my family who still treated me like a person,” I say through gasping sobs. “The only one who still loved me.”
“Otis seems to like you a whole lot.”
“I don’t know why,” I admit. It still came as a shock, Otis wanting to help me, Otis caring. Otis thinking we should try running a business together.
“Because he’s sensible enough to value you. Your aunt too. We all make mistakes. It’s how we respond to them that makes or breaks us.” He cups my jaw with his hand, our faces inches apart. His fingers are wet with my tears. “And you, Sophie Ginnis, are a strong woman. You’re a kind woman. And you’re so fucking brave.”
I start shaking my head, but he stills the motion.
“Thank you for telling me, Soph. Thank you for letting me in.”
“I like you,” I blurt out, my heart hammering.
He smiles at me, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Jesus, I’d fucking hope so.”
“I mean I like like you.” Embarrassment and shame swirl inside of me, telling me to shut up, but it’s too late. The floodgates have opened. “The way I’m not supposed to. It’s terrifying.”
“I like you too.” He presses a soft kiss onto my wet lips. “I like you just as much as I’m supposed to. Because there are no rules for this. We’re in unchartered territory, so don’t you think we should make our own rules?”
“Oh goodness, I really want to. I want you.” Emotion surges inside of me. I’m happy, but I’m also worried about what that happiness might cost. “But I don’t want to take you away from your family. I know…” I have to pause to regain my voice. It doesn’t help that he’s pressing soft little kisses to my face. Or that I’m cradled in his lap, where I feel so safe. “I know what it’s like, to be at odds with people who are supposed to love you. My grandparents never spoke to me again. They’re gone now, so I’ll never be able to fix that.”
“You were a child when that happened,” he says disapprovingly, gripping me from behind and steadying me on his lap. “They should have offered you forgiveness.”
Fresh tears surface from the seemingly bottomless well inside of me. “But what about your father?”
“Forgiving someone doesn’t mean letting them continue to hurt you. Besides, you said Jonah is seeing someone else. Why should they care if you and I are together?”
“You really want to be with me?” I ask, stunned.
He laughs, though there’s a look of frustration on his face. “Yes, Sophie. I figured that’s what all of this was about. I want to be with you. There’s something special between us. I don’t want to let that go without exploring it. Do you?”
“No,” I say. “Definitely not.”
“Thank God,” he says, and then he kisses me deeply, holding me to him with his hand in my hair.
I pull away slightly. “I didn’t bring the purple condom.”
“I’ve got a purple condom.”
I laugh, feeling a surge of joy. “You bought multicolored condoms so we could continue with the correct color order?”
“Yeah,” he says with a smile, smoothing his thumb over the side of my face. “I think I did. I got us some fake tattoos too. I went all out.”
“Is that why you’re wearing a purple shirt?”
He laughs, glancing down. “No. Let’s call that a happy accident.”
I kiss him, and I kiss him again and again and again, pausing only to take off his purple shirt so I can trace kisses over the band tattoo on his upper arm and the tat of his lucky guitar pick on his chest. I want to kiss him everywhere. I want to show him the way he makes me feel…
Not vanilla. Not biddable. Just me. Sometimes Pollyanna, and sometimes a bitch, the way any woman should be allowed to be.
So I get down on my knees in front of him and say, “Stand up and take off your pants, please.”
“Again with the manners,” he says with a slight smile as I lower his sweatpants. I reach for the elastic of his boxer briefs, and he stops me, clamping a hand around mine. “Hey,” he says gently, “you don’t have to do this.”
For a second, horror turns me to stone. I realize I must look horrible. I’ve been sobbing, and there are probably makeup trails down my face. My eyes must be red and puffy and hideous. “I could wash up first.”
He squeezes my hand before I can get up. “That’s not what I meant. You look beautiful to me. You always do. You just…you do so much for other people. I don’t want you to think you have to do that for me, if it’s not going to bring you any pleasure.”
“It will,” I say. “I want to. I’ve been thinking about it.”
“You’ve been thinking about sucking my dick?” he says with a cocky grin.
“A lot.”
He swears, and I pull his boxer briefs down, stroking him with my hand for a moment. He’s so hard for me. So big and beautiful. It’s still difficult to believe that he wants me. For so long, I thought no one could want the real me. That if they knew what I’d done they’d turn on me.
Looking up at him, I find his eyes on me, his mouth parted in pleasure. I stare at him as I take him into my mouth, moving my tongue over him, learning this part of him with my mouth.
Groaning, he tips his head back. Then he weaves his hand into my hair and watches me. The knowledge that his eyes are on me right now is delicious.
I keep sucking him in deeper, in and out, unable to take all of him at once but giving it my everything, and his hand tightens in my hair, a strangled sound escaping him.
Then he’s lifting me to my feet. Tugging the hem of my T-shirt. We undress like wild animals, throwing clothes, stepping on them, laughing, and he backs me toward his room, kissing me the whole way, passionate, open-mouthed kisses. My whole body is consumed by a deeper yearning than I’ve ever experienced with anyone, including him. I need him tonight. I need him to claim me, to thrust in deep, to show me that I’m still the woman he wants. That what I did is not the sum of who I am.
Maybe he feels the same way, because he won’t stop touching me. When we get into the bedroom, he backs me against the bed, and I fall back onto it, laughing and so full of joy I could float. Until my head collides with something hard.
I turn to touch it, surprised to find a three-inch crystal.
Sitting up in his bed, I grin at him. “Dottie gave you this, didn’t she?” I ask, holding it up. “You pretend to think her woo-woo stuff is BS, but you’ve been sleeping with it under your pillow. You’ve been stroking it, haven’t you?”
He gives me a slow, lazy grin and lowers his hand to his dick for a single, rough stroke.
Oh. My…
Yeah, I was asking for that, and I don’t regret that I got it.
“I might not believe in it,” he says, taking a step toward me. I fall back onto my elbows, the crystal still clutched in my hand. “But I figure it makes sense to cover my bases. So, yeah, I’ve been carrying it around off and on. You want to rub your fingers over it while I have my mouth on you? It’s my turn to get a taste.”
Without any other warning, he pulls me down to him, hooking my legs over his shoulders, and—oh, goodness .
Every feeling is so heightened that it’s only seconds before I’m panting and begging, glancing around wildly for the purple condom. The crystal falls from my fingers onto the blanket, forgotten.
“I really need your dick,” I say—it seems like a time for honesty—and Rob swears against my flesh before sucking me in one more time.
Then he pulls away, giving me a wicked grin. “Good, because it really needs you.”
He climbs off the bed, but only to put on the condom. It should look funny, seeing him encased in purple. It doesn’t, though. It didn’t look very funny when it was any of the other colors either. No, it looked like something I was desperate to have inside my body.
He climbs over me, his eyes hungry, and my body arcs up to him—wanting him to conquer, to take, to fill me. Wanting him. He adjusts himself and then thrusts in so slowly the pleasure is almost painful, making me frantic for him. But it’s slower tonight. Reverent, even. And he kisses me slowly, deeply, taking me at the same leisurely pace, working me up to an orgasm that’s so overwhelming I see stars at the edges of my vision.
“That’s it. Give it to me, Soph,” he says. As if I weren’t already willing to give him everything.