Chapter 17
Daylight
Sofie
After the photo shoot of Claudia watching Deacon —who stayed late to work with Marshall — through her office window, I asked if I could grab Savannah for a few minutes from the team’s childcare facility. She sends a text.
“They’ll bring her up, it’s almost time for her to eat.” She looks up at me, and I try not to search all her features to find ones we may share.
A phone rings from somewhere, “You mind if I?”
“Of course, do what you need to do.”
“Hey Dr. Bennetti, how are you?” she pauses and listens intently.
“Okay.” Pause. “Is she willing to speak on the record?” Pause.
“No, no, no, no, no.” She says, pain evident in her tone.
“If getting him and whoever else she’s done that to healthy wasn’t a priority, I swear I’d kill her.
” She nods, “Yeah, my daughter too.” Pause.
“I’ll get that information to Vale.” Pause.
“Can you do me a favor?” Pause. “Can you think hard if Johnson’s issues align with theirs?
Maybe see how many Tri Gams may be willing to talk to us?
I’m going to do the same.” Pause. “Chat soon.”
Claudia closes her eyes and sighs, “I think you were on to something.”
“Me?” I ask.
“Girls’ night and sleepover at the mansion tomorrow.” I blink a few times. “Noelle’s?”
“Sounds good to me.”
She cocks her head to the side, “Aleks said something to Deacon. I thought it was your idea.”
“He what?” I laugh.
She smiles softly, “If the song you’ve been humming for the past hour wasn’t a sign, then—”
“What song?” I scoff.
She holds up a finger and hums a familiar tune, and it comes through her phone’s speaker, “Daylight.”
“I mean, how can you not hum along to that song?” I ask face heating.
“I don’t wanna look at anything now that I saw you,” she sings along as she stands.
“We having a sing along?” I ask as she continues singing softly as she walks to her office door.
“I've been sleeping so long in a 20-year dark night, and now I see daylight, I only see daylight,” she opens the door, still singing, and takes Savannah from a girl, who freaking joins in.
“They’re insane, sweet girl,” I laugh as I get up to save her from their madness. I take her from Claudia, who seriously has a fantastic voice, and Savanah squeals.
“You have to sing to her,” the girl says.
So, I do, “Maybe you ran with the wolves and refused to settle down. Maybe I've stormed out of every single room in this town.” I kiss her little cheeks and finish, “It’s brighter now, now.” She giggles. “You, my sweet, sweet, little Savannah, are golden.”
“You all good in here?” Deacon’s voice comes from the doorway, and I turn.
“Golden,” I smile, and Savannah starts kicking and squealing, grabby little hands reaching for him.
“Come see Daddy?” He stops as he passes Claudia and gives her a quick kiss before heading to us.
“Are you coming to steal my joy?” I ask joking… sort of.
“I gotta get Hank to the Pad, so just for a minute.” She all but dives for him. “You’re lucky I have good hands, little one.”
When Deacon and I walk into Pembrooke Books, Noelle looks past me.
“Um, hello, I brought lunch,” I say, lifting the bags slightly. “For my favorite porn peddler.”
“I was expecting—”
“Sofie said she was coming over to see you, and I was heading this way and need to grab a few books to take with me out of town to read to Savannah.” Deacon nods to the children’s section.
“I’m starving, so you’re officially my favorite person today.” She smiles.
“Careful,” I tease, setting the bags down. “I’ll start expecting thank-you speeches.”
She laughs, warm and easy, and for a moment the world narrows to paperbacks and the smell of coffee and the quiet magic of a place where stories are still allowed to matter.
I didn’t realize how badly I needed my Noelle fix, she’s who got me through the last two years.
“Eat?” I ask.
“Step into my office,” she says, giggling.
She leaves the door cracked just enough to let the low murmur of the shop drift in. I spread everything out on the small table like a reveal.
“There’s a system,” I say, already untying knots. “Don’t rush me.”
Noelle leans back in her chair, eyes lighting up. “I trust you implicitly.”
Out comes a paper-wrapped roast chicken sandwich, still warm, rosemary aioli soaking into crusty bread. A pear and arugula salad with shaved parmesan and candied walnuts. A container of truffle fries that smells so good, I could eat them all. Last, I pull out two sparkling waters.
“Looks so good.” She moans, and then I pull out a small box at the bottom and set it in front of her.
She opens it and actually gasps. “Is that—”
“Mini olive oil cake,” I confirm. “Citrus glaze. Don’t ask me how I got it, it’s top secret.”
She closes her eyes on the first bite. “You’re uninvited from ever letting me eat sad desk lunches again.”
“Perfect,” I say, settling in. “I accept.”
We eat for a minute in silence, the good kind. The kind where you don’t have to perform. Where crumbs don’t matter.
Then, casually, I drop, “Aleks and I are… friends.”
Her fork pauses mid-air, then she laughs. Full, head-back, belly laughter. “Friends. Friends who have sleepovers?”
I sip my water, unbothered. Mostly. “Nothing happened.”
She eyes me over a fry. “Sure.”
“It didn’t,” I insist. “We talked. We slept. Literally slept.”
She chews thoughtfully. “Okay, to be fair, you have whatever coming I decide to dish out. You were rabid about Dash and me. Like… feral. Also, no kidding. I wrote angry-fuck scenes with you two at Rockefeller Center as inspiration.”
I choke on my sparkling water. “That’s not happening.”
“Mmmm,” she hums. “I’m not convinced.”
“Swear on these truffle fries, nothing has happened.” She rolls her eyes. “Taste one, then you’ll know I mean business.”
She does and even moans. “Fine. I’ll wait until I see you two together again to judge further.”
“Speaking of sleepovers,” I say brightly. “Tomorrow night?”
She perks up immediately. “Go on.”
“The Pembrooke–Sterling mansion needs a girls’ night christening. Snacks. Wine. Zero men except Paul.”
Her grin is instant. “I would love that.” Then, she asks, “And when do we get invited to your tower?”
My smile stays smooth, effortless, and practiced. “After the holidays.”
“Yeah,” she says and grins. “I can’t wait to see that place.”
Yeah, well…
“You didn’t have to wait around,” I tell Deacon as he pulls away from the curb.
“I was waiting for someone to help me carry all those books.” He jokes, because he didn’t let me carry a thing.
“I love that you bought two of each.”
“Three,” he corrects, “Mom and Dad are going to take a set back to Italy so they can read to her over video calls too.”
“What show did they see last night?” I ask because they haven’t been around much since Thanksgiving, and Claudia mentioned his mother loves theatre.
“Hamilton,” he chuckles.
“Again?” I gasp.
“They love it.”
“Heading back to The Bridgeview?” he asks.
I clear my throat, “I am.”
“You could stay with us, you know.”
“I adore you all. I’m just,” I shrug. “I’m—”
“Didn’t mean to put you on the spot, just want you to be okay.” He chuckles. “I was going to say that you could stay with my folks, Claudia, and Savannah when we hit that long stretch out of town coming up, but didn’t want you to think you weren’t welcome now, too.”
“I appreciate it, but please don’t feel like you need to tap dance around me. I’ve always prided myself on my ability to read people and I know you, Deacon Moretti, are a good man.” God, I hope I’m not wrong about James and… “Oh my God.”
“Fuck, what is it?” He pumps the brakes, and the horns everywhere sound off.
“Shit, no, sorry.”
“Sofie?”
“Gaww, I heard something while Claudia was on a call that I probably shouldn’t have, and now I’m not sure even if it did mean something,” I admit.
“You’re good,” he says, but the way he squeezes the wheel tells me he’s not.
I exhale. “Can I tell you a secret?”
“You can.”
“My half-sisters are giant cunts, and not in the way people use the word now, thinking it’s cute. It’s not, and if they ever had to deal with a true cunt, they wouldn’t play with words like that.” I sigh. “I’m rambling.”
“Nah, you’re good.”
“They were both Tri Gams.”
His head tilts, just enough to tell me I struck a nerve.
“Claudia was talking to a doctor, hell, I don’t know.” I turn fully and face him. “See, I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop I—”
“You’re good.” He glances over. “What school did they attend?”
“Honestly, I never could keep track. They switched schools as often as they changed majors. The longer they stayed in school, the longer my father paid child support.” I force a laugh.
“Ten years for undergraduate degrees, in how to live off your dad and pretend you’re better than everyone else without ever breaking a nail or a sweat. ”
“Cunt, works.” He deadpans.
“I can find out if you think it’s relevant to whatever issues Claudia was having with—”
“Kyle’s fiancé and the psychiatrist that owns the company that several teams use, so they can hire psychologists and not psychiatrists and still look like they care about mental health.
No shade on the Bears, they give a damn, but they may be connected.
Any connection we can figure out will help.
” He slows to a stop at a light. “Can you keep a secret?”
I nod, “Of course.”
“Love The Bridgeview, but I was thinking if the house is done, I’d love to see Claudia come down that staircase and get married on Waverly.”
Tears immediately fill my eyes, “Oh my God, that’s perfect. It would make Paul so happy, full circle, you know?”
“He and Patsy get married there?”
Oh. My. God. I am a moron.
“Right, that doesn’t make sense, I guess.”
“Makes about as much sense as me thinking she says yes there, we’re getting all the good vibes from a home where love never died.”
“I love that.”
“Feel like I’m in the damn government, with all this sneaking around,” Paul chuckles as we make our way through a service corridor of the Bears’ arena.