Chapter 19
CHAPTER 19
SOPHIE
T he first thing I notice when I stir from my deep slumber is how sticky my eyes feel. I wipe at them in an attempt to clean them up, letting the rest of my body slowly catch up to the fact that I’m waking up.
The nausea is gone. My body still feels weaker than usual, and there’s a lingering remainder of a headache nagging at me, but I’m feeling golden compared to when Will first stepped into my house.
Will. As soon as his name crosses my mind, I perk up. I look around my living room, but neither Julian nor Will is there. How long was I asleep? Julian must be up by now. Is Will still okay with him?
That’s when the sound of sizzling catches my attention; it’s coming from the kitchen. A smell hits my nostrils—fresh coffee and … bacon? I force myself up and stagger toward the kitchen, where Will’s back is to me as he cooks in front of the stove.
He turns to face me, and I gasp. He’s wearing my sling, Julian securely strapped to his chest.
The sight of this man in my kitchen, spatula in hand, wearing my baby as if he were his own, makes my knees go weak. I grab the door frame to steady myself. He’s got that stupid smirk on his face, and the black T-shirt he’s wearing leaves his forearms exposed.
The man looks good in a dress shirt, but damn, this simple T-shirt is devastating.
“You look well-rested,” he observes, and his smirk fades. He gestures to Julian. “I hope this is okay?”
It’s way more than okay. Matt never wore any of his kids in a sling. This vision is fulfilling fantasies I didn’t even know I had.
Calm down, Sophie. He’s not a superdad. He’s still a player. Proceed with caution.
I straighten and make my way to sit at the kitchen table. “Absolutely.” I do my best to not let the unbridled desire seep into my voice.
Damn, I need to get laid. And not with Will.
“I made some of the bacon I brought yesterday, and now I’m finishing up these eggs,” he says, gesturing to the sizzling pan with his spatula. “I was going to eat them myself, but you can have some if you have the stomach for it.” When he sees my eyebrows shoot up in alarm, he immediately pipes up: “I made the bacon in the air fryer, don’t worry.”
Wow. Not only did he take the initiative to wear Julian in the sling; he’s careful and thoughtful, too. Cooking the bacon in a pan can make the bacon fat droplets fly all over the place if you’re not careful, and the last thing I want is for Julian to get burned. But now I can see I have nothing to worry about.
“Are you feeling up for coffee?” he asks as he gestures to the full carafe. I nod with a small smile and watch while this man carefully juggles making coffee for me and supervising the eggs frying in the pan.
I could very well make myself a cup. And maybe I should; I’m not weak and helpless anymore. But there’s something to be said about letting your ex-arch-enemy wait on you.
He pours just enough milk and maple syrup into my mug. My taste in coffee hasn’t changed since the last times he was here as Matt’s friend—it was actually Tania who made me fall in love with maple coffee. But I never knew he’d taken notice. When he brings the mug to me, I cup my hands around it and let the warmth seep into my skin, burrowing itself deep into my heart.
I missed this. A simple moment of domesticity.
But I don’t let myself daydream about this any further. Instead, I sip on my coffee and let Will serve me a plate of eggs, bacon, and toast. “Thank you,” I say before grabbing my fork and digging in. I hadn’t realized how ravenous I was until the food was in front of me.
Will goes back to frying two more eggs for himself while I scarf down my meal. Soon enough, he places his own plate and mug of coffee on the table and starts unraveling the sling. Inside, Julian is as cheery as ever, and doesn’t mind when Will puts him down on the floor next to some toys I’m guessing he brought in from the living room earlier.
By the time Will finally sits down, I’ve cleaned my plate. A hint of nausea rolls through me, but I can tell it’s just the echoes of the virus. I’m probably going to feel like this every time I eat for a few days.
“Thank you,” I repeat, with a different meaning this time. “For everything. I …” I look down and pinch my lips together, my eyes prickling with tears.
“It’s been my pleasure,” Will replies, without a hint of teasing. He takes a bite, but his eyes stay focused on me.
“I need to apologize.” The moment the words are out of my mouth, relief washes over me. “I’ve been a grade-A bitch. I shouldn’t have assumed you knew about Matt’s behaviour. I should have asked.”
“No need to apologize,” he says flatly. “You were in pain. I understand.”
“No, I do need to,” I argue. “Because I’ve been nothing but horrible to you these past few weeks, and now you’ve gone and done all of this”—I gesture around the room— “for me, without me even asking you for it, and I just don’t get why you’d do something like that after I’ve treated you the way I have.” I let out a sigh. I hope he’ll tell me, because I sure as hell can’t figure it out on my own.
“Sophie. I want to make something very clear.” Will’s black eyes are fiery with intensity. He’s no longer eating; all of his attention is on me and me alone. It sends a shiver down my spine. “I stayed away from you and your family for the last year out of respect for you, because I knew you didn’t want me around. And I knew you needed time to heal before I came waltzing back as a stark reminder of your ex.” He places his forearms on the table in a clear gesture.
I’m here to stay , it says.
“But if it were up to me, I would have run out into the rain that night to follow you.” His jaw clenches. “I may have cut ties with Matt, but I never wanted to cut ties with you and your kids. You’ve been like family to me for the past ten years. I’m … not ready to let that go.”
The words hit me like wave after wave, and I let them wash over me. For a moment, I don’t speak, just trying to absorb everything he’s telling me. I run back memories of the last ten years with this new information, trying to see what he sees.
And he’s right. Before Matt revealed his true colours to the both of us, Will was like a brother to him. He came over for dinner often. Slept on the couch on nights we partied a bit too late, ate brunch with us in the morning. Played with the girls while I made dinner and Matt set the table.
I’ve been so focused on my disdain for his player ways that I couldn’t clearly see his role in our family, until now. The way he always included me in his and Matt’s jokes and banter. How he was always kind and respectful to me—and even to the girls he brought home with him, at least in front of us.
Everything I’ve believed about this man has been an assumption. Never anything I’ve seen with my own eyes.
“Okay,” I whisper with a small nod. “You don’t have to let it go.” Having a friend who’s willing to truly be there for me, kids and all, is invaluable right now.
Something passes in his gaze. Is it relief? I’m not sure. “I can’t explain how much that means to me,” he says.
Something brushes my foot underneath the table, but I don’t move when I realize it must be Will’s leg. A flutter of butterflies fills my stomach at this slight touch. But it takes me about a second to regain my senses and move my foot away. Will is still looking at me, not a hint of reaction from the small contact we just shared.
“You should finish your meal,” I say, gesturing to his plate, which is still half-full. I stand and grab my dishes to bring them to the sink.
While I’m rinsing my dishes, Will calls out, “Would you be up for a walk? It’s gorgeous out, and I think some fresh air would do you some good after being camped inside for this long.”
I hum in agreement. “I just need to check my email first.” Hopefully, none of my clients have sent me urgent messages while I’ve been out for the last thirty-six hours.
He gives me an approving nod. “Good idea.”
While he finishes his meal, I open my laptop and sift through my email. Luckily, nothing urgent came up. I send out a few update emails to my ongoing clients so they don’t think I’ve forgotten about them. Hopefully, I can catch up on the workload in the evenings when I’m feeling like myself again.
Once I’m done, I go change Julian into warmer clothes and bundle him up in his autumn outdoor gear. I take out the stroller from the wardrobe in the entrance and place Julian inside, then head to my room to quickly get changed. I’ve been wearing the same baggy clothes for much too long.
Once I’m changed into a pair of leggings and one of my favourite pink long-sleeved athleisure shirts, I walk back out to join Will, who’s putting on his coat and boots. Within a few minutes, we’re both walking side by side, with me pushing Julian’s stroller. Will offered to do it, but holding onto the stroller gives me stability.
The crisp air sends a fresh reviving wave of life in me, and feeling the warmth of the sun against my cheeks brings a smile to my face. There’s almost no wind today; just enough for the golden, orange, and bright red leaves above our heads to gently sway in an entrancing dance.
These past two—or three, I’m still fuzzy on the details—days have simultaneously felt like an eternity and a blip. It’s not that I enjoyed being sick, but in our little bubble away from the rest of the world, I felt … at peace.
Safe.
And I haven’t truly felt that way in a long, long time. Not since before I learned the truth about Matt.
By the time we’re back at the house, it’s almost noon; the sun shines overhead, promising a beautiful afternoon. Will was right about the fresh air doing me some good. As I carry Julian back indoors, Will following behind with the stroller, I scan my body for any sign of nausea or pain. There is none. While I’m relatively weaker than usual, I’m miles away from where I began.
My stomach drops. I don’t need Will’s help anymore. By now, I can breastfeed Julian and care for him without wanting to die. Tomorrow morning, Matt is bringing the girls back, and I don’t see myself struggling to care for them at all.
The right thing to do would be to send Will home. After all, he must have work to do. I’m unlikely to be his only client. So why does the idea of ushering him away fill my stomach with lead?
Still, it must be done. It was nice to lean on him for a moment, but he’s not the kids’ father. Or my partner. I need to continue on my own. “I’m feeling a lot better!” I exclaim exaggeratedly, almost as soon as he closes the door behind us. I walk to the living room to place Julian down on his playmat, then put my hands on my hips. Will leans against the doorframe of the living room with a raised eyebrow. He seems to be waiting for me to continue.
I oblige him.
“I think I’ll be fine now,” I say, my hands still on my hips. If I exude confidence, maybe he’ll believe me.
“Fine?” The corners of his lips lift slightly.
“Yes.” I swallow. “I promise. But … thank you for everything. I really can’t say it enough. I’m going to be just fine.”
Will’s mouth opens as if he’s going to say something. But then he tightens his lips again. Those lifted corners have drooped back down. “Okay,” he nods, moving away from the frame. “If you say so. But I don’t want you to hesitate for a second to call or text if you need me again.” He turns towards the entrance to make his way out.
My heart catches in my throat. A strong sense of need pulls from within my belly, and I want to run to him, stop him from leaving, lift my lips close to his ear and tell him I need him now.
No, Sophie. Down, girl .
Instead, I slowly walk to the frame and let him grab the doorknob. “I will. Promise.”
His eyes catch mine. “I’ll hold you to that,” he says, right before opening the door and exiting my house.
I whoosh out a breath. I’m alone with Julian, as I should be. So why does it suddenly feel so wrong?
Returning to the living room to sit with my son and play along with him, I consider these conflicting emotions swimming around in my body. If I’m going to be friends with Will, I need to make sure these raging hormones aren’t going to veer me off course. I definitely need to get back out there. In the dating pool.
Something I haven’t done in over ten years.
But I’m not exactly … a catch right now. Okay, I’m not blind—I know I’ve got my looks going for me. But they’re not what they once were. Birthing three kids has ravaged my once supple skin with stretch marks, many still bright red from my latest pregnancy. Varicose veins snake across my thighs, and what to say about my breasts? They look fine in a bra, but breastfeeding three kids means they don’t hold up quite like they used to. And despite my self-confidence, trying to imagine showing myself—all of it—to someone new is petrifying.
And there’s a part of me that can’t help but wonder … if it wasn’t for the changes in my body, would Matt have gone elsewhere? Or would he have remained satisfied with what I had to offer?
Quickly, I realize this train of thought can take me to dark places. I need to talk. The first person I think about is Tania, but it seems like circumstances have been making it difficult for us to hang out together lately.
But I know Avery will have time for me. She always does.
I give Julian a quick kiss on the forehead and revel in his giggle, then take my phone out and send a quick text to Avery. It doesn’t take a minute before my phone starts ringing with an invite for a video call.
“How are you doing, mama?” I ask her, feeling warmth seep into my heart at the sight of her tired eyes.
“Oh, you know … hanging in there,” she says with a chuckle. “Nathan is napping right now. I should probably be doing that too, but I make bad choices.” That elicits a laugh from me. “But what about you? What’s going on?”
I briefly update her on the last couple of days; the virus, the kids, Will swooping in to save the day, and even the incident with Matt. The latter story makes her wince. Avery never particularly liked Matt, but I love her so much for abstaining from saying ‘I told you so’ after my discovery last year.
“I was wrong about Will,” I finally say to wrap up my story. “Well, I don’t think I was wrong about his womanizing ways, but about the rest. As soon as he told me he wasn’t speaking to Matt anymore … everything changed.”
“So you’ll be able to keep the peace?” she teases. “Maybe even be friends?”
“You don’t mind?” Will’s initial treatment of Avery was what sparked my disdain of him at first.
“Of course not. I’m over what happened. I’ve told you that over a hundred times, by the way.” Poor Avery, a national treasure, who consistently got rejected by men who didn’t deserve her in the first place. She may be over it now, but I know that the incident with Will was yet another reason she’d found it so difficult to allow herself to be happy with Logan. Thank the universe for Logan. No other man is good enough for my girl.
“I’ll take your word for it.” I sigh, shutting my eyes for a moment. “But seriously, Avery … I’ve got to get laid.”
She laughs out loud, that booming laugh that brings the sunshine wherever she goes. “Well, you don’t need to look too far.”
My heart skips a beat. “You can’t be suggesting …”
“Oh, I absolutely am.”
“Absolutely not.” As much as I can guess Will would take good care of me in bed—the thought alone fills my belly with a smoldering heat—I’m not about to become yet another woman on his list of one-night stands.
“Why not?” Avery whines. “He’s ridiculously hot. He’s right there. Come on, Sophie, don’t pretend you wouldn’t be telling me to go for it if the situations were flipped.”
“No, I wouldn’t be pushing you into the arms of a guy like Will. Not … not for that.” Heat rushes to my cheeks. “I’m fine with friends. But I’m not going there. Plus, we work together now, and I don’t need to add that on top of everything else I’m dealing with. I need to get it out of my system some other way. Find a guy who’s actually relationship material.”
“Whatever you say.” Avery shrugs. “I guess it’s time to resort to dating apps.”
“Ugh.” I don’t need to explain my groan to Avery. Before I met Matt, dating apps were just beginning to become popular. When things became steady between Matt and I, I thought I’d get to skip that whole mess.
Guess I was wrong.
“Just …” Avery pipes up in a gentle voice. “Think about it. Okay?”
“About Will?”
“Yeah.”
“Avery …” I rub my temples.
“I didn’t tell you to do anything or make any moves. I just said you should think about it. Nothing more.” She offers me a comforting smile. “That can’t hurt, can it?”
I ponder over her words. Maybe she’s right.
A little bit of fantasizing never hurt anyone … did it?