Chapter 39
SOFIA
El Río – Paula Mattheus
Being back in Ericeira after everything that had happened in Australia felt different.
She was different. Maybe the Sofia who had left had already been inching toward this version of herself, the one finally able to voice just how deeply she'd fallen for Ilias.
He understood her. He made her laugh. He took care of her.
And the sex? Gosh. The sex was on another level.
“What are you thinking about?” Elvira asked, breaking their quiet as they drifted in the middle of the Atlantic, listening to the songs of whales. They had come across a migrating group and had been recording them for the last two hours, to Jo?o’s absolute delight.
“Nothing,” Sofia lied.
“Here.” Elvira handed her one of Sofia’s journals. “Whatever’s going on in that big head of yours, you should write it down.”
Sitting with her back against the side of the boat, she began scribbling everything that had happened lately.
She tried to explain to the pages how Ilias’d slowly and steadily made a mark on her heart and how now, she couldn’t stop thinking about him.
She missed him. Terribly. And maybe she was getting cheesy, but she didn’t care.
She hadn’t even said it aloud, but Alejandra kept texting her that Ilias was walking around with the face of a man who’d just lost a limb.
Maybe she was exaggerating. Or maybe it was the truth. Maybe Ilias missed her just as much.
In her ears, the sound of the whales soothed her chaotic brain.
Because even though Ilias was the highlight of her journaling, her brain kept spiraling back to her father’s health.
According to her mother and sister, he looked fine, healthy even, but Sofia couldn’t quite believe it.
Because as much as she was trying her best gifting him those soothing whale songs, she knew cancer wasn’t merciful, and that the diagnosis they had given him wasn’t anything close to good.
And after another hour, more whale songs and more writing, to Jo?o’s happiness, they were satisfied enough to sail back to shore.
“You know,” Elvira said as they started packing up, “now that Sofi’s back, on these research expeditions, she can handle the boat, and you can stay home and binge-watch whatever it is old Portuguese men binge-watch.”
Jo?o waved her off.
“I like it,” he said. Or at least, that’s what Sofia thought he said through his thick, melodic Portuguese.
She spent the sail back chatting with him in broken phrases, letting him correct her gently, even though he claimed his Portuguese “wasn’t academic.”
She didn’t care. She’d grown up with grandparents who didn’t speak proper Italian or Spanish, surrounded by a mix of Ligurian dialect and Andalusian slang.
Academia had always felt like it tried to strip those identities from her.
Whenever she spoke in English, she felt too stiff, too polite, too far from the real version of herself.
Maybe that was one of the reasons she and Thomas had never truly connected, maybe the fact that he never bothered to learn even one of her languages had been the clearest sign of how little he cared.
With Ilias, though, they spoke a chaotic blend of all the languages they knew, though Spanish always slipped in as their anchor.
His Andalusian accent, tinged with Moroccan expressions, felt closer to who she was than the polished English she’d been forced to use for years.
It felt like a home she never realized she needed.
Once at port, as they unloaded the bags and gear, Elvira nudged her sharply with an elbow. “They’re back.”
Sofia frowned. “Who?”
Elvira nodded discreetly toward three people sitting in front of Salacia’s offices. A woman and two men.
“They’ve been lurking around here for a couple days,” Elvira said. “Asked for you. I told them you were back today.”
“And you forgot to mention it?” Sofia narrowed her eyes.
“It didn’t seem important.”
“They could be journalists.”
“Or clients,” Elvira offered.
“Then why didn’t they speak to you?”
“Because you’re the famous, pretty face of Salacia. I’m just the brains.” She smirked. “And the other pretty face, obviously. But I don’t have one million followers, a TerraVive sponsorship, or a boyfriend with an Olympic gold medal.”
Sofia rolled her eyes. “As if that frees me from my torments.”
As they approached the group, Sofia took a quick inventory. The trio looked about her age, early thirties, and definitely out of their element. Their stiff posture and slightly too-polished clothes screamed not locals.
One guy was blond with sharp, very fair skin that almost reflected the light, and Nordic features.
Definitely not from around here. The second man looked like a very attractive version of a finance bro or something like that: wavy black hair swept back, fairly tanned skin, sunglasses hiding his eyes.
But the woman caught Sofia’s attention most: dark-skinned, stunning, with sleek cornrows and a warm, toothy smile.
“Hello!” the woman chirped brightly coming forward in her direction. “Are you Dr. Sofia Moretti Gómez?”
That made Sofia’s eyebrow lift. If she was using the academic title, she wasn’t a tourist. Cue her inner porcupine activated.
“Yes. And you are?”
“I’m Asma Grent. I’m an environmental lawyer, strategic lead, and co-founder of Lamina Research Integrity Group.
” She gestured to the two men. “These are my cofounders. That’s Leif Haldorsen, data and tech lead, and marine robotics nerd.
” The blond nodded. “And that’s Callum Evans, finance and ops, and forensic accountant. ”
Sofia turned toward Elvira, who had taken over hauling equipment and was giving them all a good luck smirk.
“Very impressive titles,” Sofia said, folding her arms. “But what do you want from me?”
“We’re a startup founded two years ago,” Leif began, his sharp Nordic blue eyes steady.
“We specialize in scientific due diligence, verifying data, auditing funding, making sure eco-tech and ocean science orgs walk their talk. Think of us as a hybrid between investigative journalism and consultancy.”
Sofia didn’t blink. “And?”
Asma jumped in. “You used to work at Neptune. The European Commission asked us to do a preliminary audit. You left the company just before some red flags popped up. We wanted to ask you a few questions.”
“You could’ve sent an email,” Sofia said flatly.
“We were vacationing in Calais,” Callum added, his accent so thick it made her blink. Was that Scottish? Yorkshire? Who knew. “We figured we’d swing by on our way back to London.”
“It felt more informal this way,” Asma said cheerfully.
Informal was definitely the right word, since Sofia was still in her waterproof jacket, overalls, and non-slip deck boots. Even though she hadn’t dove into the water, salt clung in her hair as the sun started to dip behind the marina.
“And is any of this legal?” she asked. “Just showing up at someone’s workplace asking for an off-the-record interview about a job she left six months ago?”
Asma nodded. “It’s not exactly standard, but nothing we’re doing is illegal. We follow your work, and we’re big fans of the way you communicate about science. We thought you’d prefer something casual, no pressure.”
Still no mention of Ilias. That alone earned them a few points.
After a long pause, Sofia said, “Fine. Let me go home, shower, and change. I’ll meet you at Basilico Trattoria in town. If you want me to talk, I want pizza.”
“That sounds amazing. We love pizza.” Asma beamed.
“Great,” Sofia said as she turned back to her gear. “And you’re paying.”
The trio blinked, momentarily caught off guard, then nodded after sharing glances, trying to hide their surprise.
If they wanted answers, the least they could do was buy her dinner. Her Ligurian blood proudly acknowledged her saving money.