CHAPTER TWELVE
JACK
That was bloody amazing .
I sit in my car outside Giuseppe’s for a full ten minutes after Sophia has driven away, grinning like an absolute fool.
My face actually hurts from smiling, but I can’t seem to stop.
The ghost of her hair between my fingers lingers, that soft strand I’d tucked behind her ear instead of kissing her like every instinct had screamed at me to do.
God, the restraint that had taken. She’d looked up at me with those incredible blue eyes, lips slightly parted, and I’d wanted nothing more than to close that last inch of distance between us.
But something had held me back—maybe the newness of it all, maybe the knowledge that when I finally kiss Sophia Mitchell, I want it to be perfect.
The way she’d shivered in the night air, how natural it had felt to drape my jacket around her shoulders.
She’d practically melted into the warmth, and the sight of her wrapped in something of mine had done dangerous things to my composure.
And then she’d driven away still wearing it, taking a piece of me with her.
“This was…”
“Yeah. It was.”
Christ, if that wasn’t the understatement of the century.
My phone buzzes. Emma, of course.
Emma: How'd it go, Romeo? Did you cock it up?
I type back:
Jack: Definitely didn't cock it up. She's...bloody hell, Em. She's incredible.
Emma: That good, eh? When's the next one?
Jack: Sunday.
Emma: Moving fast. I like her already.
Sunday. Two days away. It feels like forever.
I finally start the car, my mind replaying every moment of the evening. The way she’d laughed when I’d told her about the ram incident, how she’d opened up about that mass casualty event, the quiet confidence she carries. How she’d made me feel both completely comfortable and utterly off-balance.
“I don’t know yet, but I want to find out.”
Her words echo in my head as I drive home. That honesty, that willingness to step into something uncertain together. No games, no pretense. Just Sophia being brave enough to admit she doesn’t have all the answers.
Back in my apartment, I pace restlessly, too wired to sleep. I keep thinking about the way she’d defended her work, how she’d made that crack about having a tiny crush on “the new paramedic who keeps bringing me coffee.” The flush on her cheeks when she’d realized what she’d said.
My phone rings. Charlotte, calling from New Zealand.
“Well?” she says without preamble. “How was the mysterious date?”
“How did you—Emma,” I answer myself.
“Obviously. She said you were properly smitten. True?”
I lean back on my couch, still grinning. “Char, I think I’m in serious trouble.”
“Good trouble or bad trouble?”
“The best kind,” I admit. “She’s…I don’t even have words. Smart, funny, gorgeous. Doesn’t take any shit, but she’s got this incredible warmth underneath all that competence.”
“And you’re seeing her again?”
“Sunday.”
Charlotte is quiet for a moment. “Jack, this is the first time I’ve heard you talk about a woman like this. Ever.”
“I know.”
“So when do we meet her?”
The question hits me like a physical blow. When do they meet her? When do I tell Sophia about the estate, the money, the family expectations? When do I risk everything I’d just found by revealing how much I’d been hiding?
“Jack? You still there?”
“Yeah, sorry. Just…it’s complicated, Char.”
“It’s always complicated with you.” Her tone softens. “But if she’s as special as you seem to think, maybe it’s worth the complication.”
After we hang up, I sit in the dark, the high from the evening slowly giving way to a familiar anxiety. How long can I keep this up? How long before Sophia starts asking more pointed questions about my background, my family, my life before America?
“It can just be…this. Whatever this is.”
She is right. It doesn’t have to be complicated. Not yet. Not when we are just figuring out what this is between us.
I have to tell her eventually. Soon. Because whatever this is, it is too important to build on a foundation of half-truths.
But not yet. Not when everything is so new, so fragile. A few more dates. A few more chances to show her who I really am before revealing what I come from.
A little more time to be just Jack.