46. Sophie
FORTY-SIX
SOPHIE
Foster’s uncle is droning on about some new boat accessory he got for some amazing deal when we walk into Marley and Bennett’s place. Everything about that man in this house is wrong, and I tighten my grip in Foster’s.
“Would you look at that? Still putting up with him, eh?” he goads. “Guess I owe Marcus twenty.”
I lean closer to Foster, my other hand automatically wrapping around his upper arm as I gaze up at him. “It’s him that has to put up with me.”
“Hardly,” he says, dropping a kiss on my forehead instead of acknowledging his uncle.
“Foster! Sophie!” I look toward the living room just in time to see Foster’s dad walk through the doorway with his arms spread, a red tinge already dotting his cheeks.
“Dad’s been celebrating since about nine a.m.,” Cass stage-whispers next to me.
“Hey, you only get to celebrate sixty once,” he slurs, pulling Foster in for a hug.
“Happy birthday, Dad,” Foster says once he steps back.
“Glad you could make the trip up to celebrate your old man. I know how much you hate spending time with that jackass.” He laughs, pointing at Foster’s uncle.
Foster laughs uncomfortably and avoids looking to where his dad is pointing. “Just happy to celebrate you, Dad,” he says as he steps around him and leads me to the dining room where a buffet is set up.
“Sophie!” Mrs. Walsh sounds surprised when she sees me, but at least she looks pleased. “It’s so nice to see you again.” She hugs Foster then me. “Wasn’t it so nice of Bennett to let us use his place? Have you seen the tent? Your sister and that quiet little friend of hers did an amazing job. The flowers, I mean, those are completely lost on your father, but they’re stunning. If this whole dog thing doesn’t work out, I could see her getting into the flower business.”
“We arrived and came right in,” Foster explains, reaching for two plates and handing one to me. “We’ll grab some food and head out.”
“Good,” Mrs. Walsh says, squeezing his arm as she passes. “Marcus, you better not have put any of that heavy metal stuff on the playlist,” she calls as she walks from the room.
“What quiet one is she talking about?” I ask while I scoop various salads onto my plate.
Foster shakes his head. “I have no idea.”
“Cass would have mentioned it if she was dating someone, right?” Have I been a terrible friend? Maybe I’ve been too self-centered lately and she hasn’t felt comfortable talking to me? She’d always maintained that she had no interest in a relationship with anyone.
“You’re not a bad friend.” Foster’s warm breath brushes my ear.
“How do you know that’s what I’m thinking?”
“Because I know you,” he says, straightening up and plopping potato salad next to four giant shrimp and then setting the plate down, turning to me. He grips my chin in his hand and gently eases my head up so I have to look at him. “There is nothing bad about you, sunshine.” His amber eyes search mine. “Got it?” I nod, so lost in his gaze that I don’t notice that anyone else has entered the room.
“Private moment alert!” someone taunts.
Foster drops his hand, and I miss it immediately. Every second he hasn’t been touching me since I left his place this morning has felt empty. I hate it.
We find my parents in the tent chatting with Foster’s grandmother, and I feel him relax when she looks up and waves at him.
“Oh good, you finally made it.” She swats him away when he leans down, opting to stand and hug him, practically disappearing as he wraps his long arms around her. “Has he made the tea ring for you yet?” she asks, pulling me in for a tight hug of my own.
“He has not,” I say accusingly, glaring up at him.
He holds his hands up. “I haven’t had a chance yet, but I will soon, I promise.”
“What tea ring?” my mom asks, hugging me tightly before moving on to Foster.
“It’s this…” I try to come up with a description but can’t think of what it would be like. “I don’t know, pastry?” I look at Foster and his grandmother for help.
“It’s a yeasted pastry stuffed with spices, brown sugar, and pecans,” his grandmother says.
“Sounds delicious,” my dad says, releasing Foster from a hug. “Please include us when you make it. Hello, my favorite daughter,” he murmurs, pulling me in.
“Still waiting to meet the least favorite one,” I joke.
“And you never will.” He laughs, releasing me and returning to his seat. “Go get some of that delicious barbecue and come back and join us. Cass and Florence should be back soon.”
“Is Florence the ‘quiet little one’?” Foster asks, looking around, easily seeing over the heads of all the other guests.
“She’s pretty quiet, not so little. She’s twenty-one,” my mom says.
“Does she work here?”
“She came to help for the weekend. She’s a friend from up in Marmot Point.”
“That’s where Teddy and Nellie are,” I tell Foster.
“Ah.” He nods in understanding.
“She’s in school down this way but comes here every now and again to get away from the hustle and bustle of the city.”
My dad scoffs. “That university town is hardly a city, but I suppose it’s a lot more peaceful here.”
“Peace is always wel?—”
“Denver, you made it!” my dad shouts across as a friend of his walks in.
“So much for peace,” I whisper to Foster, grabbing his hand and leading the way to the massive barbecue pit that’s set up outside the open end of the tent.
“My god, what isn’t here?” Foster says in wonder.
“Is your dad a big barbecue aficionado?”
“I mean, he likes it, but this has my uncle written all over it. He probably knows a guy or something.”
He’s mid reach for a chicken thigh when I hear the voice that I’ve learned to despise in the short time I’ve known it. “I knew he wouldn’t go for the real meat.”
Before anyone can say anything, I whirl around. “Oh, is that the fake chicken I’ve heard so much about?”
Phil looks at me, mouth slightly agape, a dumb look on his face. “No,” he finally says indignantly.
“Then what precisely makes it ‘not real meat’?”
“You know, it’s the healthier option.”
“Phil, I am a social worker and I hear a shitload of dumb stuff, but that may be the dumbest thing I’ve heard yet.”
He stands there looking dumbstruck, and I enjoy it for about half a second before I see the look of shock on Foster’s face. I can’t decipher whether it’s a good look or not and I automatically assume it’s bad.
I laugh nervously. “Anyway, I’m gonna…” I reach for a set of tongs and put chicken on my own plate before turning and practically running to the table.
“What’s got you spooked?” Dad asks when I sit down.
“Hmm? Oh, nothing,” I stammer before realizing Cass and who I’m guessing is Florence are sitting at the table. “You must be Florence?” I stand and extend my hand.
She greets me shyly, her face half hidden behind a curtain of wavy brown hair.
“The flowers look great,” I compliment, gesturing toward the arrangement at the center of the table.
“Thanks,” she replies, sitting back down. “The university has an excessive amount of flowers right now so I got lucky.”
“What are you there for?”
“Plant science.”
“What does a plant scientist do?” Foster’s grandmother asks, leaning on her elbows, giving Florence her full attention.
“I’m not sure yet. I’m specifically studying plant activity in harsh climates. Areas that seem a bit more inhospitable.” She explains, lighting up as she goes on to tell us how much she’s looking forward to an upcoming research trip opportunity on the east coast.
“Where’s Foster?” Cass asks, turning in her seat to look around when her grandmother starts asking Florence more specific questions.
I take her lead peering around, expecting to see his head above the crowd, but he’s nowhere to be seen. I stand. “I’ll be right back.”
His uncle is nowhere to be seen either, and as I make my way to the house I can hear elevated voices.
“She only said what everyone else was thinking,” Foster says, and I stop dead, leaning into the side of the house.
“She thinks she has the right to walk into this party that I paid half for and get lippy with me? If you were more of a man, you’d have put her in her place.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” I lean forward the tiniest bit in time to see Foster’s mom put her hand on his uncle’s arm.
“Phil, not now. Let’s go back and have some more food. Everyone seems to be really enjoying it.” Her attempt to defuse the situation sets my teeth on edge.
“Oh, that’s right, Mom, protect him and his bullshit views from any kind of confrontation.”
“Foster!” she exclaims, her hand clutching at invisible pearls.
“What’s going on?” Cass whispers from behind me, making me jump.
I shake my head and shush her, not taking my attention off the three of them.
“No, Mom, it’s fucking bullshit. He’s treated us with nothing but contempt since we were kids and has only gotten worse in the last five years. He acts like Cass is less than human because of who she is. He makes constant remarks about my job, which I happen to love, by the way.”
“That’s not t?—”
“True?” Foster shouts. “That’s nothing but the truth. And if he’s not making those comments you’re commenting on how I could have done so much more. Been so much more. But I’m happy. I love my job. I make a difference in the lives of kids who society deems to be unworthy in some way. My students smile every morning when they see me, and the only thing that comes second to is when Sophie smiles at me. Yes, the first person who stood up to your nonsense, Phil,” he seethes. “She’s brilliant and kind and everything you could never be because your heart is full of hate and bigotry. She’s the polar opposite of who you are and what she did, what she said, only makes me love her even more.”
Love her even more.
Love. Her. Even. More .
“Did he just—” Cass starts.
“Shhh.” If Cass wasn’t here, I’d have assumed I was hallucinating what he said.
“I knew you two were too good at pretending,” she squeals, without keeping her voice down, and I watch in horror as Foster, his uncle, and his mom look in our direction.
“Can’t even fight without having backup hiding around the corner, eh? Pathetic,” Phil sneers.
Hate is not something I generally feel toward other human beings on a regular basis. But right now my whole body is filled with it. When I look at Foster, he’s in shock. Wide eyes stare back at me, and I have the sudden urge to apologize. Apologize for listening in and for sneaking around. Apologize for setting this whole thing into motion and potentially ruining the entire party.
“Foster, I—” I begin, but he shakes his head to stop me as he begins walking my way.
He takes my face in his hands and looks down at me, his expression softening the longer he looks. “I’ve gotta take care of one thing, okay?” I nod, unable to look away. “Did you hear everything?” I nod again. “So you heard that I…” I’m nodding before he can even get the words out, already worried he’s about to tell me he didn’t mean it. “Then you should know I meant it, okay? I love you, Sophie Hore.” The kiss he plants on me isn’t one that should be seen by others. He should be kissing me like this behind a closed door so we can keep kissing. Just as I think I may start climbing him, he pulls away. “Cass,” he says, looking past me at his sister.
“Yeah?” she asks, a hint of mischief in her voice.
“Would you mind holding Soph back? She looks about ready to take matters into her own hands.”
“I don’t need to be controlled, Foster.” I pout as his hands fall, and Cass wraps her arms around me from behind. “She’s tiny. If I wanted to get away, I could, easily.”
“Try me, Soph, I dare you,” Cass taunts, and I let my shoulders drop, utterly defeated. “Okay, big brother, go get ’em.”
Foster drops a kiss on the tip of my nose, turns, and marches back to his mom and uncle.
“Mom, if you want the two—no, three of us—to ever show up at a family event again, he can’t be there. He shows up and spreads his toxic worldview around, and I’m done with putting up with it. I’m done with doubting my career and whether or not I’m enough. I’m done wondering how the hell I could possibly prove to you that I’m doing what I want to do and that I don’t want to be an engineer or lawyer. I’m so over trying to convince you that there’s so much more to happiness than a piece of paper from a school and the issuer’s name on a paycheck. Cass is happy in her life. Hell, look where you are right now. This is because of her. She’s amazing at her job and she loves it, and that should be enough. We should be enough.” He looks back at me and for the first time since we arrived, he looks content. “I’m where I want to be in every aspect of my life, other than standing next to this complete hodenkobold.”
I try and fail to catch the cackle that bursts out of me and don’t even care when I see Foster’s smile.
“What the hell is a hodenkowhatever?” Cass whispers.
“I’ll tell you later.” I’m too distracted by the sight of Foster walking toward me, head held high, chest slightly puffed, hot as sin.
“How was that, sunshine?” he asks, taking my hand and leading me back to the tent.
“Hot,” I breathe out.