Chapter Twenty-Three
Mike had spent this week in bliss. There had been setbacks at work, which would usually have irritated him, but now only managed to thrill him. Setbacks meant he would be here longer, which meant more time with Sophie, which meant he could probably take her to see a few of the other places he’d found that might be good for her blog. Maybe even convince her to finally go and see a few of New York’s tourist highlights, like she wanted. And to see how she felt about testing the kitchen table to find out if it held her weight. Or his kitchen table. He didn’t care which. It was the testing part that was important.
Since their dinner date at Mike’s flat, they hadn’t spent much time apart except for when they were working, both of them aware that their time together was finite. He wanted to squeeze the days for every moment with Sophie he could get. Which was why, despite being worn out from work, he’d made his way over to her flat, stopping to get flowers en route. It hadn’t taken him long to see how much Sophie delighted in these small gestures – though he didn’t like to dwell on the fact that she probably delighted in them because they seemed like large gestures to her. With the possible exception of her friend, Edie, no one had doted on Sophie in a long time, which was perplexing to Mike. She was so fun to dote on – why hadn’t more people figured that out?
He headed towards Tom’s flat, as per Sophie’s instructions, pausing when he heard someone yelling through the door. He couldn’t quite make out the actual words, but the tone seemed . . . happy, maybe? He waited a moment to see if he could hear more, but when nothing else happened, he knocked.
The door swung open, revealing Tom, who was holding a wooden spoon and wearing an apron, and from the expression on his face was either very happy to see Mike or was about to murder him and cook him for dinner.
‘Oh good,’ Tom said. ‘You’re here.’ He gestured with the spoon in a way that made Mike think rather uncomfortably of a cattle prod.
‘Maybe take it easy with that spoon,’ Mike said. ‘Some of us want to live long lives with both of our eyes.’
‘Sorry,’ Tom said. ‘I’m excited.’
Marisa snatched the spoon out of his hand. ‘Come on. I’m starving.’
Mike pulled off his shoes, automatically seeking out Sophie. He found her setting out four champagne glasses, excitement lighting her up so much she glowed. He kissed her on the cheek. ‘Dinner that exciting, huh? Those must be some amazing chicken enchiladas.’
Tom opened his mouth, only to have Marisa lunge up and cover the lower part of his face with her hand. ‘It’s your mom’s news. Let her tell it.’
‘I got an email from an editor,’ Sophie said. ‘She loves the blog. Wants to meet up to discuss possibilities.’ She started pouring the champagne into the glasses. ‘Nothing may come of it, but we decided to celebrate anyway.’
The way jubilation punched through his system, Mike would have thought it was news for him and not Sophie. He was just so happy for her. ‘Really?’ He grinned, striding over to lift her off the floor in a big hug. ‘That’s fantastic.’ He kissed her cheek, setting her back onto her feet.
Sophie flushed. ‘Like I said, nothing may come of it—’
Marisa smacked her hand flat on the counter. ‘You will not downplay good news and accomplishments in this house. No, you will pick up your champagne glass and let us toast your good fortune, remember?’
‘Right,’ Sophie said, handing out glasses. Once they all had one, she lifted hers. ‘To celebrating possibilities!’
Mike clinked his glass with everyone, all of them smiling as they sipped, the tart, bubbly taste of the champagne sliding over his tongue. He put his arm around Sophie and gave her another squeeze. She smiled up at him and he wondered at the fact that not very long ago, he hadn’t known a single person in this room. He’d never heard of Sophie Swann and thought he’d be working non-stop in New York, the days seamlessly blending together in a montage of sameness until he keeled over one day onto his desk.
It seemed such an unsatisfactory way to live compared to this.
‘Wait!’ Tom said, taking out his phone. ‘I want to get a picture. Someday, Mum, you’ll get to post about this on your blog – even if it’s just to discuss what might have been – and you’ll want a photo to mark the moment.’
Marisa moved next to Sophie, and Tom stood on Marisa’s other side, the two men bookending the group as Tom got the phone ready. He snapped several pictures and Mike didn’t need to see them to know that he’d look happy in every single one.
Because he was.
And way back in the dusty crevices of his mind, a tiny voice reminded him that he’d been happy like this before once, and that was exactly the moment that life loved to kick your teeth in.
Mike ignored that voice all through dinner, several champagne toasts, and taking Sophie back to her flat to love her, gently and thoroughly, until they were both drowsy and sated.
None of that kept the voice from talking, though.
And no matter how hard he tried, Mike couldn’t stop listening to the familiar sounds of his own doom.
Monday afternoon found Sophie sitting across from Kenzie Martin, one of the editors at Halftime Books, in a cute little Italian place that smelled like garlic in the best possible way. Kenzie looked younger than Sophie had been expecting, her brown hair back in a ponytail, her outfit casually stylish. She didn’t seem to be wearing any make-up beyond her winged eyeliner, which looked good on her. They’d already had lunch as they’d talked, chatting about general things before Kenzie had launched into her proposal.
Sophie was glad she’d stuck to club soda to drink, because she was already feeling overwhelmed by all of it and wanted to keep her head in any way she could.
‘So that’s my thought. We do the book in two parts – New York and London. Not really a travel guide, but more like a collection of humorous essays. We could make it an interactive book by putting in QR codes to link to your video clips. There are a lot of women out there – people out there – that have had to start over like you did. Your stories will make them laugh, but I’m hoping they’ll connect a community, too, like your blog has done. What do you think?’
‘It’s a lot to mull over,’ Sophie said. ‘I’ve never even written a book.’
‘Everyone’s got to start somewhere,’ Kenzie said, leaning forward. ‘Why not give it a go? I’d need a proposal and sample chapters to take to acquisitions. I’ve been pitching the idea, but I’ll need to show them something. I can send you some example outlines if that would help.’
Sophie chewed on her lip. It was very tempting. She loved the instant connection of writing online, but to hold a book in her hand with her name on it? That would be something special, too. ‘When would you need all of that?’
‘Soon as you can get it to me. I know you’ll need to work on it around your usual posts. The advance might not be much – lots of factors determine that. And those take a while to get to you anyway. Will you be able to extend your stay here, do you think?’
Sophie blinked at her. ‘Extend my stay? I’ve got another three weeks . . . Oh.’ That’s when it finally landed in her mind that if she was going to get enough material to write a book, she was going to have to explore more of the city. Three weeks probably wasn’t going to cut it. Could she stay longer? Her flat might be an issue. She’d have to see if the owner had anyone lined up after her. Edie would be both elated about the offer, and sad she wasn’t coming home right away.
Mike . . . she couldn’t think of him right now. She’d spent too many years putting Andrew first, putting her own dreams on hold. She wasn’t going to do that again. Either Mike understood, or he wasn’t the man for her.
‘I can see,’ Sophie said finally.
Kenzie smiled at her, an understanding expression on her face. ‘I’ve given you a lot to think about, I know. Sleep on it. Run it past your family and that boyfriend of yours if that will help.’
‘He’s not my boyfriend,’ Sophie said. ‘But yes, I’d like to discuss it with my family.’ Tom and Marisa might see things she was missing.
‘He’s not? Sorry for the assumption,’ Kenzie said. ‘But that dancing video . . .’ She looked at the ceiling and fanned herself with both hands.
Sophie laughed. ‘The one with me, or with Dazzle Camouflage?’
‘Touché,’ Kenzie said. ‘But I meant what I said. Think on it. Talk to the important people in your life. Just don’t take too long – I’d like to move forward on this if we can. No matter what, it was great to meet you, Sophie.’ She held out her hand.
Sophie took it. ‘It was good to meet you too, Kenzie, and I appreciate the opportunity you’re trying to give me.’
‘Don’t get me wrong,’ Kenzie said. ‘I’m not giving you anything except a chance you’ve earned, but I’ve been around long enough to know that just because something is an opportunity, it doesn’t mean you’ll want to take it. There are lots of different dreams out there. Maybe this one isn’t yours.’
‘Wise,’ Sophie replied, and they said their goodbyes, Sophie promising to get in touch soon. She thought Kenzie might be on to something when she said that there were a lot of different dreams out there, but as she made her way back to her flat, she was pretty sure that this opportunity, this dream, was one she wanted very much. She just wasn’t sure what it was going to cost her in the end.
And whether or not that cost would be worth it.