Chapter 15 How’s That For Timing? #2
“Oh, would you look at that,” I say in mock surprise. “My tickets to the Natalia Hirsch photography exhibition. You’ll need to find yourself another plus-one, Arty. And, Patrick, you might want to get used to the idea that the only arm Sophia will be on from now on is mine.”
The sudden scrape of a chair slices through the tension in the room. It takes me a moment to realize it’s Sophia’s. She’s on her feet. I look up at her. Her expression is dark and her usually caramel-brown eyes have darkened to a shade reminiscent of burnt toffee. Huh.
Maybe her tics weren’t driven by anxiety at all. She looks downright furious.
“I know this may seem like a wild notion in a room filled with dicks and inflated egos,” Sophia seethes, pointedly looking around at all the men at the table.
“But for the record, I will decide whose arm is worthy of even one of my fingernails, let alone the pleasure of my company.” She pauses for effect, then continues.
“Let it also be noted I’m capable of speaking for myself.
Yep, vagina and all. You know why? Because I am a whole grown-ass intelligent woman with a Harvard law degree as you have so kindly pointed out, Dad.
I’m done dealing with a bunch of dicks. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have better things to do with my time. New year, new me, and all that jazz!”
With that she strides out of the room and my dick threatens to salute her as she goes.
Feisty Sophia is our favorite. Except she’s lumped us in the same bag with the rest of the penis-carrying company staring at her back as she makes her exit.
It dawns on me that in my possessive need to make it clear that Sophia is off the market, I may have fucked up too.
I shoot out of my seat and quickly follow her, aware of all sets of eyes now trailing my movements.
“All this delicious food, when all we really needed was the popcorn,” cackles Luca as I round out of the dining room and into the kitchen, following the sound of Sophia’s angry footsteps.
“Sophia! Sophia, wait! Can you please just stop and tell me what’s wrong?”
Whirling quickly to face me, like I’ve just given her an electric shock, she scoffs.
“What’s wrong? Do you mean other than being spoken over, spoken on behalf of and spoken at by egotistical men?
Oh, and according to you, apparently spoken for.
Nothing is wrong at all. Everything is abso-fucking-lutely peachy. ”
Stepping closer, I put both hands on her shoulders to stop her from turning back to reach for her jacket. She doesn’t fight me, but her expression is still marred with disappointment and annoyance.
“Soph, you know I didn’t mean it like that.
I just…I can’t pretend anymore. If it wasn’t obvious last night, I want every fucking bit of you to myself.
I’ve spent six years missing you and the last six months waiting for the chance to say everything I should have told you that night.
Most days I wish I had done things differently all those years ago, but right now, when you let that fierce woman you’ve become out of the box, I don’t regret the strong woman you have become,” I say with all the sincerity I can muster, watching the way the gold flecks in her eyes flicker with each word of my confession.
“You do realize what you just did in there makes you no better than my father, right? You decided I would be attending the exhibition with you and claimed me as yours without even having a conversation with me first. Or checking in to see how I’m feeling about all this,” she says, softening her tone and waving a hand between us.
“I don’t want to control you the way your father has tried to. I just don’t want to waste another second without you. I won’t stand by and watch anyone else, let alone that slimy fucker in there, try and get close to you.”
“I thought hearing those words would fill me with relief, but truthfully, it’s overwhelming.
All my deepest fantasies about what it would be like to have you and be yours are coming true, and…
” She looks up to the ceiling like she’s calling on a higher power, before looking down at her hands, and wringing her fingers nervously.
“I’m petrified that once I unlock that Pandora’s box where I have hidden a decade worth of desires, feelings and emotions and share them all with you, I will be ruined for anyone else,” she whispers.
Unable to help myself, I gently graze her jaw with my knuckles, before curling them under her chin and tilting it up so the only place she can look is in my eyes. The windows to my soul. “That’s perfectly fine, because there won’t be anyone else.”
I press a kiss to her forehead, and she doesn’t pull away instantly, but when she does, I see the pain swirling in her pretty eyes. I know she’s still going to walk out that door, and I wonder if this is how she felt all those years ago. Karma is indeed a bitch.
“I need time. Time to process what you’re saying and how easily you can confess to all these big feelings which are stirring equally big feelings in me—ones I don’t know I am equipped to deal with right now.
I went to Harvard because it’s what my dad wanted and what you insisted I do.
I broke up with Aiden because you told me to,” she says tapping my chest with her pointer as she lets out a watery laugh.
“Twenty-six years old and still taking orders and trying to please everyone else. I just need a minute,” she says again like she’s trying to convince herself she’s making the right decision.
“I need to choose me first. Figure out what priorities matter to me and give this career I have worked so hard for a good shot. No distractions, especially not ones involving your dick.” She mutters that last bit more to herself than me while tapping on her phone.
When she lifts her head, I take the opportunity to gently cuff her neck and fix my gaze on hers.
I desperately want to tell her why I did it.
Why I broke my own heart and hers in the process all those years ago.
But in this moment, I know all it will feel like is another manipulation in a long line of them.
“You want me to prove how I feel for you? That I listen when you talk?” I rasp, barely keeping my emotions in check.
“Against my better judgement I’m going to let you walk out that door, not because I think it’s the right thing to do, but because you believe it’s what you need to do.
But, just know this—I’m all the fucking way in. ”
She sucks in a breath, like my words physically hurt, but she doesn’t sway in her decision. Instead, she wordlessly shrugs on her jacket and leaves. Alone. Through the very same door we walked out of hand-in-hand just last night.
It’s the third time she’s slipped through my fingertips, what we could have together right along with it. But the only way this works is if she chooses me with her entire mind, body and soul and believes we’re worth fighting for too. And when she does, there’s no fucking chance I’m letting her go.