Chapter 33
jett
Sofía clutches my hand as we weave through the throng of people to the front, where there’s a microphone and a small stage. My heartbeat is erratic, pounding in my ears, and if it weren’t for the grounding touch her hand provides, I wouldn’t believe the last twenty minutes were real.
This night started with an intense pep talk in the mirror. Smile. Get through the night beside Sofía without making her uncomfortable. Go home and try to get her off my mind. The prospect of giving a speech wasn’t as nerve-racking as the idea of speaking to her.
Instead, I’m still trying to wrap my head around her confession.
I glance down to make sure she’s still beside me.
Real.
Hundreds of people crowd the lobby, all dressed in their nicest finery and here to watch what we’ve spent weeks working on. Molly’s eyebrows shoot up when she spots Sofía and me, nudging Doug with an elbow.
He spins and mutters, “Holy shit.”
“I told you,” she hisses, wrapping her arms around us. “Is this a thing? Tell me it’s a thing.”
I defer to Sofía, mostly because I can’t speak right now. I think any sentence that comes out would be caveman-style. Sofía. Love. Shocked. Maybe a few grunts.
Any eloquence I have is delegated to the speech I’m about to give.
“It’s a thing,” she confirms, and my heart soars straight to outer space.
If you squint, you can spot it floating beside the space station.
Sofía leans into my side. “I am not quitting,” she declares, like any other person had that concern.
“You were planning to?” Doug asks, scratching his beard in confusion.
“There were thoughts.” Sofía lifts her chin. “But I’m not going to.”
Molly and Doug look at me and tilt their heads. Sofía is blabbering about quitting while I wear a deranged smile, and when I get a whiff of her cherry perfume, I blurt out, “Sofía loves me!”
It’s loud enough that a few heads turn. Molly’s mouth pops open. Sofía blinks up at me, and I wait for any regression or explanation.
Instead, with a calm demeanor and a gentle pat on my arm, she says, “Yes, I do. But maybe we declare that with our inside voice.”
I say it again, at a lower volume, and it’s as exciting as the first time. Molly and Doug watch us like we’re a reality television show, and I couldn’t care less that Molly is going to ask a million questions later.
A woman taps Sofía, and she nods. “Time for that speech before they usher people to the theaters.”
“Will you stand up there with me?” I ask.
I’m not ready to let go of her hand yet, so I don’t give her much of a choice before I drag her onto the stage. Hundreds of eyes descend on us, and Sofía squirms, linking her arm in mine and gripping my bicep with surprising strength.
“I was going to tell you no,” she hisses through a bright smile. “I hate public speaking or being perceived by this many people.”
Someone hands me a microphone, and I step forward, keeping her by my side. I’ve practiced the words a thousand times, and they roll off my tongue. There’s the precursory thanks to everyone here, then everyone who worked on the docuseries, followed by the inspiration behind the project.
I’m going strong, highlighting Sofía’s hard work and effort to make this all possible, until she sniffles. Her eyes are glassy, and my chest constricts. I forget the rest of my speech and end the babbling with thanking Doug for being a super rad guy.
“Again, thank you so much for coming. I hope you enjoy the episode. Someone take this microphone away from me now, please.”
The crowd laughs, and I climb off the small stage with Sofía.
“You did great. New rule: Never drag me into that again.”
“Got it.” I steal a kiss, and her pursed lips soften. “Ready to watch the episode?”
This will never grow old. Kissing her. Holding her hand. Calling her mine.
Our friends meet us at our seats, a whole row of my friends and family. Three women and a man wave at us, and the similarities are uncanny to Sofía. Her sisters waggle their eyebrows and flutter their fingers at us, and Sofía flushes crimson.
“I told them it was too soon, but they want to meet you. I can tell them no,” she murmurs. “Though I don’t know if they’ll listen.”
Her nervous gaze flickers around while we settle into our seats. I clasp her hand and lay it in my lap. She’s going to have to get used to this. I don’t think I’m capable of stopping.
“I’d love to meet them,” I tell her. “Tell them to join us for dinner.”
The lights dim, and the opening clip begins.
Mateo nudges me with his elbow, lifting a brow and mouthing, Way to go as he jerks his head toward Sofía.
Pride courses through me, and as we watch our time in Sydney—albeit from a shifted perspective—I realize there’s no place I would rather be in the world than beside Sofía.
Each clip is accompanied by a memory of her.
If you look at it from a different lens, it’s a love story.
Our love story.
And I wouldn’t trade it for the world.