Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
Peter
Clearly, I am a glutton for punishment.
It’s the only logical explanation for why I agreed to help Sophie with her outlandish plan.
Her aptly named Operation Soulmate is in full swing, which means that four nights in a row, I’ve taken a new date up to the roof to meet Sophie, waited in the stairwell while she talked to each date long enough to test her flower, then watched all four leave a few minutes later looking confused, a little dejected, and in one case, spitting mad.
I followed that guy all the way to the front sidewalk and watched as he climbed into his car and drove away. Just to be safe.
And that’s my main motivator here. Sophie is really excited about this flower. She’d be going through with the plan with or without my help. My involvement at least gives me some measure of control over her safety.
I can only hope the pattern will continue—that the flower won’t bloom before I find the right moment to tell Sophie how I feel.
I shouldn’t be such a coward. But my respect for our friendship is making me hesitant. I don’t want to say anything until I have a better idea whether she’ll reciprocate. There’s so much at stake—more, probably, in her mind. I’m already a hundred percent certain that if Sophie lets me, I’ll love her forever. I won’t ever leave. But I’m not sure she’s ready to trust that’s true—even from me.
It’s why I understood the appeal when Sophie first explained Operation Soulmate. Sophie wants love, but she doesn’t know how to trust that a man won’t eventually leave her and break her heart. According to her logic, the flower eliminates that risk and gives her a guaranteed happily ever after.
I need to see more data before giving the flower that much credit—or any credit at all—but I understand where she’s coming from. Sophie has never seen a man stay.
My phone buzzes with a text, and I quickly glance at the screen, already standing from her couch so I can walk down the hall and let in her next victim.
Sure enough, the message is from Sophie, a heads up that her date has arrived and she’s ready when I am.
So far, Sophie hasn’t mentioned to any of her dates that I’m the one who will let them in the building. The Serendipity stays locked at all times, so someone has to let them in, but I like that they aren’t expecting me. Their reaction—and how quickly they recover when they see I’m not Sophie—is usually pretty telling.
I reach the heavy front door of The Serendipity and push it open.
Only one guy stands outside, and he is nothing like what I’m expecting.
The rest of Sophie’s dates have all fit a certain type. Medium height, average build. Three of the previous four wore glasses. But this guy—he looks like he lives in a gym. He’s enormous. Almost as wide as he is tall, with biceps large enough to curl me like a dumbbell. His head is shaved, and he has a snake tattoo that wraps around his neck, then climbs up to his ear. Honestly, it’s impressive artwork, and I’ve never been one to judge based on appearances, so I push my concerns aside and clear my throat.
I glance down at Sophie’s text to see the guy’s name.
“Uh, Bear?” I ask. Because of course his name is Bear.
He turns. “Yeah?”
“Hey. I’m Peter, Sophie’s neighbor. She sent me out to let you in. She’s up on the roof in the garden, but I can walk you up there.”
He looks me up and down, and I get the impression he’s calculating exactly how many muscles he would have to use to break me in half. It must not be too many, because he shrugs, his expression indifferent as he walks toward me. “Cool,” he says, his voice so deep, I feel it as much as I hear it. We make small talk as we climb the grand staircase, then head to the back stairwell for the last flight up to the roof.
“You guys have fun tonight,” I say, then I watch through the cracked door as Bear makes his way into the garden.
When Sophie first pitched my role to me, I was concerned she’d require me to be in the garden with her, and that’s something I’m determined to avoid. I won’t give my fate over to her flower, if only because of how much I know Sophie believes in it. If we’re on the roof together and the flower doesn’t bloom, that’s it for my chances.
But Sophie made it clear that when Willa and Archer were on the roof with her, the bloom closed up as soon as they stepped into the stairwell. Armed with that knowledge, I feel safe here.
I prop my foot against the door so it can’t fully close and lean against the wall, working on the crossword puzzle while I wait for Sophie to do her thing. But I’m barely through the first few clues when she sends me a text.
Sophie
SOS
PLEASE GET ME OUT OF THIS DATE
My heart starts pounding in my chest. Did the guy hurt her? Why can’t she just bow out like she always does?
I push the door open the slightest bit and hear Sophie let out a nervous laugh. “Let’s go, then,” she says. “That sounds great.”
I frown. She does not sound great. I see the small wedge of wood Sophie sometimes uses to prop the door open, and I kick it into place before racing down the stairs and down the hall to Archer’s apartment. He’s a little taller and a little broader than I am, and I’m worried I might need back up.
I bang on his door, breathing out a sigh of relief when he answers. “Hey, you got a minute?” I ask. “Will you come stand in the hallway and look intimidating?”
“What?” Archer asks.
“I’ll explain later, but we don’t have much time.”
He pulls his door closed behind him and steps into the hall. “You just need me to stand here?”
“Probably,” I say. “Maybe swing a punch if it comes to that.”
“Peter,” Archer says. “What are you?—”
“They’re coming!” I say, cutting him off just as Bear and Sophie emerge from the back stairwell and start down the hall. Sophie’s smile is more of a grimace and her eyes are wide as we make eye contact.
Without really thinking about the consequences, I step into their path. “Sophie, can we talk a second?” I say, voice sure and commanding. At least, what I hope is commanding.
She tosses a glance over at Bear. “Um, okay,” she says.
“I’ve been thinking a lot, and I’m just going to come right out and say it.” I take a deep breath. “I miss you, pookie pie.”
Her eyes widen, and I see the threat of laughter in her expression, but she doesn’t break. “You do?”
“I really do,” I say. “And when I brought this”—my eyes dart over to Bear—“really handsome man up to meet you, it finally clicked that I never should have broken up with you. I’m still in love with you. I think I’ll love you until the day I die.”
My skin prickles with awareness as those last words leave my mouth, their truth resonating a little too much.
Sophie takes a step forward. “I love you too, honey cakes.”
Ohhhh, I am not going to laugh. I won’t. I can’t. But seriously. Honey cakes? I press my lips together and clear my throat to kill the threatening laughter, then open my arms. “Come back to me?” I look right at her. “Sugar boo boo bear?”
She runs to cover the distance between us and tosses herself into my arms. I wrap her in an enormous hug, one I hope is big enough to cover her shaking shoulders. Maybe Bear will think she’s crying instead of laughing?
I lift a hand to the back of her head and bend down, my lips close to her ear. “You owe me for this,” I whisper, and her grip around my waist tightens.
When I look up, Bear is approaching, his face solemn. When he reaches us, he lifts his hands, placing one on Sophie’s back and one on mine. “I bless this union,” he says, his deep voice serious. “You belong together.” Then he turns, steps around us, and walks down the grand staircase.
Sophie and I stay frozen in our embrace for a long moment. If we move, we’ll start to laugh, and there’s no way we’re doing that until we’re sure Bear is out of the building.
“I can go now, right?” Archer says from behind me.
I look over my shoulder. “Yes. Thank you. I appreciate your presence.”
“I’m glad that’s all that was needed,” he says. “I would not have punched that guy for you.” He turns toward his apartment, but then he stops and looks back. “I would have punched him for Sophie.” Then he disappears inside.
Sophie leans back and looks up at me. “Sugar boo boo bear?”
I grin. “I was under duress. It’s the best I could come up with. And you’re one to talk, honey cakes.”
Sophie finally gives into her laughter, her arms falling away from my waist as she practically doubles over. I’m not far behind her, and soon we’re laughing so hard, tears run down both our faces.
“What happened?” I ask. “Obviously the flower didn’t bloom.”
“Definitely not,” she says. “But when I tried to extract myself from the date, he said something very weird about trusting the destination, then he mentioned his snake?—”
“Please tell me that was not a euphemism.”
“No, he has an actual snake,” she says. “A python. She’s the lockscreen photo on his cell phone.”
“I guess the tattoo makes sense, then,” I say.
“I guess I just got scared,” she says. “I didn’t want to make him mad. But maybe my worry was needless. He seemed kinda sweet at the end.”
“That was definitely not how I thought things were going to go,” I say. “Pookie pie.”
This sends Sophie into another fit of laughter. It feels so good to make her laugh like this. To laugh with her.
I hold out my hand. “Come on. Let’s go downstairs. I cooked.”
She lets out a little gasp. “I love it when you cook. You made enough for me?”
“Of course,” I say as we start down the stairs.
“I guess my track record indicates you should expect me for dinner,” she says with a sigh. “I’m five for five, Peter. I might have to take myself out to dinner just to keep my spirits up.”
“Don’t give up,” I say, squeezing her hand. “And you can always go out to dinner with me.” The words come from a genuine place of friendship, but as soon as they’re out of my mouth, I wonder if they sounded that way to Sophie.
We’re talking about dating, after all. Did it seem like I was throwing myself into the mix? We’ve gone out to dinner together hundreds of times over the years, just as friends. But when Sophie looks over at me, something behind her expression seems different.
Does she feel this too?
Does she feel things shifting?
“I can always count on you, can’t I?” she says, her smile warm.
I smile back.
She has no idea how much.