41. Sophie
41
Sophie
I stumbled out of the cab, the cacophony of the city hitting me like the stench of week-old garbage. New York City. The city that haunted me was a far cry from the sleek hotel facade that towered over me now, its glass windows reflecting a warped image of the dark streets I thought I’d left behind yet couldn’t seem to escape for long. Between my mom, Callie, and Maverick, I was back here more than I ever thought I would be.
I squared my shoulders, ignoring the pull to go back to my apartment, where memories lurked in every corner like cobwebs. Instead, I marched through the automatic doors and into the air-conditioned lobby. The scent of jasmine enveloped me. Rich reds and ornate gold accents decorated the space, and the man behind the front desk looked quite posh.
How fancy.
“Welcome to The Elysium,” the concierge greeted with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.
“Thank you. I have a reservation for Sophie Reyes,” I said, fishing Maverick’s credit card from my wallet. The card felt like betrayal and power all at once.
“Of course, Ms. Reyes. We have a suite on the twenty-second floor, with a view of the park, reserved for you?” he confirmed, handing me the key card.
“Yep. Perfect.” My voice was a rasp, betraying the numbness I was desperately clinging to.
The ride up in the elevator was silent, save for the soft hum of the machinery. I leaned against the wall, my thoughts swirling dangerously. I wasn’t quitting the force, not yet. But God, I needed this break, away from my coldhearted, bitchy partner that I hated and her boss-pleasing mouth.
The suite door swung open and I stepped inside, the plush carpet swallowing the sound of my footsteps. I tossed my bag onto the king-sized bed, the crisp white duvet bouncing with the weight.
“Make yourself at home, Soph,” I muttered to my reflection in the tall, arched windows. Outside, the city thrummed with life, indifferent to what was happening to me internally. The world does keep spinning, after all.
He’d find me. Maverick always did. It was part of our twisted dance that always left me craving more. This time, though, I didn’t run to end things. I left to clear my head, to take care of myself without burdening anyone else. The sharp edge of his words about my eating disorder had cut too close.
But that was Maverick—raw, unfiltered, and painfully aware of my demons. He never shied away from calling me out, even when it made me want to shred him to pieces with my bare hands. Love, if you could call the firestorm between us love, was never meant to be gentle. And ours was certainly not gentle. I regretted not returning those three little words.
Cope, Sophie, I thought, trying to drown out the noise in my head with the clink of ice as I poured myself a drink from the mini bar. Just numb it out.
I sank onto the bed, the alcohol offering a temporary veil of indifference. Maverick would come. That was a given. And when he did, we’d crash into each other with the same destructive force as always. And maybe then I’d find the answers I wasn’t brave enough to face sober.
“Let him come,” I said to the empty room, the city’s pulse echoing in my veins. My voice felt like company that wasn’t here, and I found comfort in that. “I’m ready for you, Mav. And I love you, too.”
The buzz of my phone shattered the silence. The screen glowed with Callie’s name, and I swiped to answer the message. My heart flipped at the sight of her words.
Callie 7:23 PM
EEEEK. Eloping tomorrow. Liam and I couldn’t wait any longer. Tell me you’re home and can come!
A rush of elation surged through me, quickly followed by a twist of jealousy so sharp it felt like a slap to the face. My own love life was a shitstorm, and here was Callie, finding her safe harbor after dealing with her own dark shit. My fingers were clumsy as they danced across the screen.
Sophie 7:24 PM
Of course, wouldn’t miss it. No one deserves a happily ever after like you two. :)
The idea of love so certain it couldn’t be stalled, wouldn’t be delayed, stung like a million bees. For me, it was a balancing act on the razor’s edge of passion and destruction. I’d once thought that jumping headfirst into this relationship with Maverick was the way to go, after Callie and Liam’s disastrous roller-coaster of a relationship in the beginning. Yet here I was, doing the opposite.
I tossed the phone aside, its weight too heavy with implications of what tomorrow would bring—a celebration for someone else’s forever when mine hung in limbo. The room’s luxury, bought on Maverick’s dime, felt mocking now. It was just a golden cage I’d locked myself in while trying to escape my reality.
I let myself fall back onto the plush bed, the crisp sheets cool against the heat radiating from my skin. Silence surrounded me, a void that pressed down with the weight of everything unspoken between Maverick and me. Shadows stretched into the room, fingers of darkness that felt as if they were going to choke the life out of me.
I curled into myself, seeking solace under the blankets. The fight with Maverick played on loop behind my closed eyelids, his accusations about my eating disorder, my retaliations—our love language twisted and barbed.
“Tomorrow,” I whispered into the nothingness, a promise to face the joy of Callie’s day without letting my own demons take center stage. But tonight? Tonight, I would surrender to exhaustion, to weakness, to the numbness I needed. A deep breath filled my lungs with the sterile scent of luxury and loneliness.
“Sleep,” I murmured, a prayer to the night to keep myself company. “Just sleep, Sophie.”