24. SOPHIE
SOPHIE
“The reuben is extraordinary,” I say, and I mean it.
“Amazing.” I take another bite. “Sauerkraut is perfectly fermented. The grilled rye bread is obviously homemade. Mmm, just so good.”
Gavin laughs. ”You talk about food the way most people talk about people.”
“Food is people,” I say. “I can learn everything I need to know about someone from what they eat you and how they cook. It’s never just food.”
Outside, it’s grey with cold, and I breathe in a contented sigh looking at the Arsenal across the street. The glass has a warm amber glow, making it look exactly how it feels: like home.
“You grew up cooking?” Gavin asks.
“I grew up helping my nonna cook. There’s a difference. She wouldn’t let me touch anything until I could tell her exactly what she was doing and why.” I smile. “I hated it at the time. Now I understand.”
“Smart woman.”
“The smartest I’ve ever known.” I set down my coffee. “Losing her was one of the hardest things I’ve ever experienced. Even harder than losing my uncle and contact with my cousins—and that was the worst.” I pause. “I’m sorry. You didn’t ask for a whole story.”
“I asked about your cooking,” Gavin says. “That is your cooking.” He leans forward, forearms on the table. He has strong hands. “Can I tell you something without it sounding like a line?”
I raise an eyebrow. “You can try.”
“They don’t make women like you anymore.
” He says it plainly, like it’s a fact. “I mean that genuinely. The way you think, the way you pay attention to every detail. How thoughtful you are. And of course you’re cooking—” He shakes his head and lets out a low whistle.
“It’s extraordinary. You’re extraordinary. ”
Startled by the compliment, I laugh. “That’s very kind.
But if they made more women like me, the human race would go extinct.
” He blinks and I wave my hand. “I’m not good at relationships with anything except food.
It’s my greatest love and my most demanding.
I give it everything I have and then I have nothing left for—” I gesture vaguely at the rest of the world.
He laughs with me. “I don’t believe that.”
“You’ve known me for two months.”
“Long enough.” His phone buzzes on the table and he picks it up, a small frown crossing his face before he smooths it and sets the phone face down. “Can I ask you something?”
“You can try,” I say again.
“Your ex. Vin.” He watches my face carefully. “How long were you two together?”
Something in my chest pulls tight, then releases. I keep my expression neutral and reach for my coffee. “He was never an ex,” I say. “We were never together.”
Gavin’s brow furrows. “I thought—”
“People assume things.” I set my cup down. “We’re practically family. My cousin would say ‘family you have to tolerate,’ but I think of him more as a friend.”
Gavin makes a sound that is diplomatically close to a scoff. “Vin Demonio is a friend to no one but himself and his brothers. I’ve known him a long time. That’s not a criticism, it’s just the truth.”
I tilt my head slightly. “He has a good heart,” I say, and I mean it even as I say it, despite… well, despite everything. “He just has a lot of responsibility, and that doesn’t always leave room for niceties.”
“Well.” Gavin picks up his cup. “I hope he learns how to make room. He’s marrying my cousin, so I hope he’s as decent to her as he apparently was to you.”
My stomach turns over, but I say with as much conviction as I can, “He’ll make a good husband to her, I’m sure.” I’m proud of how believable I sound. I push my coffee away.
Vin came inside me twice in the last month, deliberately. He’s begged me to be with him, said things that he should only be saying to his fiancée. And he is marrying this man’s cousin.
Guilt settles in my chest like wet cement.
Gavin is watching me carefully, then he says, “You really are an amazing woman. I’m not sorry Vin didn’t see that. If he had, I wouldn’t have the pleasure of your company.” He pauses. “I really like you, Sophie.”
Not sorry Vin didn’t see that? For some reason, this comment irritates me.
“Again, it wasn’t like that between Vin and I, but you’re very kind,” I say. “Thank you.”
To make sure he doesn’t see the irritation on my face, I turn to look out the window. And there he is, like we manifested him: Vin.
But he’s not alone.
Standing on the sidewalk in front of the Arsenal, hands in the pockets of his dark coat, his jaw sharp, Vin is talking to a woman. I register the fur coat first, then the dark hair, then she turns so I can see her in profile.
Valentina.
As I watch, she pushes up close to him, her palms flat against his chest. She tips her chin up, says something I can’t hear, and then she kisses him.
He lets her.
When they part, her hand trails down his stomach and then lower and she drags her palm across the front of his pants, over his cock.
He doesn’t stop her.
I pull in a breath through my nose, slow and quiet, and look down at my coffee cup.
There it is.
He told me exactly who he was going to be.
He said it plainly: marry for alliance, live the life he wanted on the side.
I knew this. I have known this. The last time I saw him, he had me bent over his kitchen counter with his hands on my ass and his mouth at my ear while he came inside me.
No matter what he said at the time—or any other time—I was just one of his women on the side.
I blink, the heat of embarrassment spreading across my chest. I can’t believe I let that happen. It’s my own fault, my inability to keep my hands off a man who has never once offered me what I need.
I smooth my hands over the table and force a smile I don’t feel.
“Are you okay?” Gavin’s voice is careful.
“Yes.” I smile at him and the smile is steady, but I need to make sure he doesn’t look out the window right now. “I just need to get back. Lunch service starts soon and I want to check on the kitchen before it gets busy.” I reach for my bag. “Would you mind terribly if we—”
“Of course not.” He’s already signaling for the check. When the waitress arrives, he stands and pays then moves his hand to the small of my back guiding me to the front door.
Which will take us right past Vin and Valentina and whatever is happening on that sidewalk.
“Actually—” I step out of his grasp. “Can we go out the back way? I’d love some fresh air and the alley cuts through to the Arsenal. "
“Say no more.” Gavin stands and picks up his coat. “I know the back way too.” He smiles and it’s genuine and warm and utterly uncomplicated. I feel a wave of gratitude. It’s nice to have something easy for once.