Chapter 14
Sophie was not going to Iona’s the next day to whine about her failed-before-it-really-started relationship with Nate.
She’d had to escape from her condo early that morning.
The walls had been closing in on her all day, and all night too, ever since Nate had left.
She’d gone to the dojo and convinced Jack to work with her for her first krav maga workout since the fire, but even that hadn’t helped.
Trying to work at home today, the day before Thanksgiving — which was really her only option since she didn’t yet have a new office for Green Systems — had proven futile.
Everywhere she looked, she saw Nate. He’d been to her place exactly twice, and yet he’d been in every room, infiltrated each one with memories, and right now, Sophie couldn’t handle those. She only wanted to forget.
After ringing Iona’s doorbell, Sophie took in the details of the tiny, well-kept adobe house tucked into a modest neighborhood on the mainland.
This was the first time she’d been to her assistant’s house in the almost three years Iona had worked for her.
And her visit had nothing to do with work.
She was here because she once again craved friendship.
The door opened, and Iona’s welcoming smile gave her the sudden urge to cry.
“Come in,” Iona said, arms open for a hug.
Sophie went to her with only a moment’s hesitation before realizing a hug was exactly what she needed.
“Thanks for letting me barge in,” Sophie said, holding on to her friend for an extra moment to try to dry her eyes. “I brought beverages.” She handed Iona the bottle of Shiraz she’d picked up on the way over.
“The best kind of beverages. Thank you. I’ll pour us a glass.” She led the way down a short hall to an old-fashioned, compact, bright yellow kitchen with a built-in dinette. “Have a seat.”
“How soon are you leaving for Thanksgiving?” Sophie asked as she slid onto the wooden bench.
“Not till tomorrow. Noonish. Two-hour drive, and my family goes out to a restaurant for dinner every year so that nobody has to slave over a stove.”
“Going out on Thanksgiving sounds nice.”
“That’s what happens with five brothers who don’t cook, only one of whom is married.
” Iona worked with a corkscrew for several seconds before the cork popped out.
“If my mom were still with us and I weren’t the only girl, everyone would bring a dish and no one would think it’s a big deal.
Boys are nothing but a pain in the butt.
Double pains in the butt when they become men. ”
The tears Sophie had forced back seconds earlier reared their heads again.
She looked down, opened her purse, and pretended to search for something, anything, so that Iona wouldn’t notice.
She spotted the unopened travel pack of tissues and went after one.
“Stupid men,” she managed without her voice giving her away.
Iona set two full glasses of wine on the table, then settled into the seat across from her. She lifted her glass, presumably to offer a toast, but froze when Sophie met her eyes. “Sophie, what’s wrong?”
Sophie blew out all the air in her lungs. “Damn.”
Iona set her glass down and put her hand over Sophie’s. “Tell me.”
Sophie’s lip quivered, and she fought to get it under control. “This isn’t why I came over…”
“It’s okay.”
“Or maybe it is. I hate this.” She dabbed at the corners of her eyes with a tissue.
“I have cookies. This looks like cookies might be required. How about if I get those while you work out what you want to say.”
“Cookies,” Sophie said, about to remind Iona she didn’t eat cookies. “Bring ’em on.”
When Iona sat back down, Sophie had taken several warm, calming sips of wine and felt like she might be able to speak without losing it.
“Chocolate chip, gingerbread, and scotcheroos.”
“You baked these?” Sophie picked up a scotcheroo and savored the first heavenly bite.
“For Thanksgiving. Because even though we go out, there’s always a time and place for homemade cookies. Now what’s going on, Sophie? You can tell me.”
Sophie took another bite first. And another. Because this homemade cookie was one thousand times better than talking about herself. When Iona leaned forward to stare accusingly into her eyes, she swallowed her carbs and sat up straighter.
“I ended it with Nate,” she said in a rush, before she could get all closed-throat again.
Iona stopped chewing mid-bite, her eyes going huge. “Firefighter Nate?”
The way she said it, scandalized, as if to say who would ever break up with a firefighter, almost made Sophie grin. “The one and only.”
“Shit, Soph. Forget cookies. I can see if I have tequila.” She started to get up, but Sophie stopped her.
“It’s okay. It’s for the best. My condo was just … mocking me.”
“Times like those, living alone sucks.”
Sophie nodded, astounded by how well this woman got her. And just having someone understand … well, strangely enough, it helped.
“I’m so glad you came over. Now tell me all about it. What happened?”
Three more sips later, Sophie decided what the hell. She told her most of the story, skipping over her brother’s confession — because that was mostly irrelevant — and sex details. It was embarrassing enough to admit they’d done the deed multiple times.
“Okay, let me make sure I’ve got it straight. Sex was fantabulous?”
“And then some.”
“But then afterward, there was a role reversal, and he wanted to talk, but you didn’t?”
Sophie grinned weakly. “Pretty much.”
“But he backed off.”
“Yes. For now. But…”
“That’ll only last for so long. Because, Sophie, honey, he’s into you. He wants to know everything there is to know about you.”
Just hearing the words made Sophie squirm. “And therein lies the problem.”
“You don’t think you could ever talk about your family?”
“I don’t talk about my family. They’re dead to me.” Or they had been until they’d tried to make her dead. Stuffing them back into that category was proving difficult.
“Bad stuff?” Iona asked, a sympathetic look on her face, and Sophie answered with a nod.
Iona refilled their mostly empty glasses. “We all have skeletons, Soph. Stuff we hate. Stuff we hate to admit to. Every last one of us.”
“Maybe.” Brothers who tried to kill their sisters, not so much. Dads who cared so little about their kids that they were able to walk away without looking back and move on to a new family, not so much.
“Tell me something, Sophie. Be honest with me. What are you afraid of?”
“I’m not afraid.” Even as she said it, she knew it was a lie.
But Iona didn’t call her on it. If she had, it might’ve been easier to argue, to convince both of them she wasn’t scared. Instead, her friend took a silent sip of wine and waited.
Having emptied her second glass enough that it wouldn’t spill, Sophie spun it around by the stem. “Maybe I am,” she conceded quietly.
“Maybe?” Iona’s question was gentle. Sympathetic.
“For sure.” There wasn’t enough wine in the world to make this not suck.
Iona touched her hand again — she was more touchy-feely than Sophie had ever realized — and leaned forward. “News flash, Sophie. When it comes to love, everybody’s scared. Love is scary.”
“I didn’t say a word about love.”
“Potential love. If that potential wasn’t there, you wouldn’t be here right now.”
Again, Sophie couldn’t argue. Her knee bounced up and down, and she broke a cookie into bite-sized pieces and stuck them into her mouth one by one.
“Are you afraid of losing a guy you care about?” Iona asked.
“Well … of course.” Because, yeah, she cared. In the past, she hadn’t worried about it because there hadn’t been a guy she’d felt particularly strongly about. By her design, no doubt.
“And you think talking about things that are important to you will scare Nate away?”
“I guess so.”
“Sophie, I don’t know a lot about your family either, but if this guy is as crazy about you as he sounds, then I don’t think you have anything to worry about.”
“Maybe you’re right.” Sophie pursed her lips and shook her head.
“That’s not enough to convince you, huh?” Iona said with a sad smile. “Maybe the timing just isn’t right for you two.”
“Maybe.” Which was still a big bucket of suck. “I’ll get over it,” she said, sitting up straighter. “Thanks for hearing me out. I really didn’t come over here to go on about him. I want to hear about something happier. Like that little baby boy your brother’s wife just had.”
“I have a new picture,” Iona said, perking up and pulling her phone out. “Cutest. Thing. Ever.” She flipped through photos with her thumb, then handed over the phone to Sophie.
It was a professional studio shot of the family of three.
Iona’s pretty sister-in-law sat holding the tiny baby, who was decked out in a darling baseball outfit, and pressed her lips to the little guy’s forehead while Daddy stood behind them.
But what really struck Sophie was the look of utter love and adoration in the man’s eyes as he stared at the mother of his son.
The knot of sadness balled up in Sophie’s throat again and pulsed with every beat of her heart. That’s what she was missing out on if she couldn’t just get over herself and open up to the right man someday.
The problem was … what if Nate happened to be that right man?