Twenty-Two #2
Would Marilyn be happy if there was still the inkling of something happening between Sophie and James? That something might rekindle?
But even so, what was the use of spinning a story?
“It’s from James,” Sophie said.
Marilyn raked her eyes over the box, her expression unreadable.
“I see.” She walked briskly over. “Is it an apology?”
Sophie nodded, sitting behind her desk. “But I don’t know if I should forgive him.”
Marilyn sighed. “I’m so sorry. You never deserved to be accused like this.”
“But didn’t I?” Sophie shrugged, scratching her nose. “We knew this would be the potential consequence, but we did it anyway.”
She clenched her jaw. And we both had too much to lose.
“Sophie, look at me.”
Meeting Marilyn’s frown, Sophie’s eyes searched for any sign of exasperation, but there was none.
“No one deserves these accusations; do you understand me?” she said. “You and James did nothing wrong, and if strangers choose to believe you did, that speaks more about them than you.”
“We vi—”
“No, you didn’t,” Marilyn interrupted, pressing down on Sophie’s shoulders. “I hate that you had to go through this, but I’m so proud of you, Sophie. And, as I said the other night, the fact that you’re not letting this affect your work is … well. I wish I had your courage when I was your age.”
Sophie quieted as she opened her email, mind spinning. An icy river coursed through her body, and something seized her lungs in its fist.
“And yet, I still didn’t get it on my own.” The words tipped off her tongue, far too stiff.
“What?”
She looked over her shoulder and swallowed, not quite meeting Marilyn’s eyes. “I know James talked to you.”
Marilyn took a few steps back. “Yes, he did. He told me what a good job you did in my absence at the gala and—wait, do you think he had some kind of sway over my decision?”
Sophie turned her chair and stood. “Didn’t he? He suggested it last week, and then I suddenly got the promotion I’ve wanted for years.”
The one she had sacrificed weekend plans, trips home, and nights out with friends for. The one she had spent hours diligently preparing for, and yet, Marilyn never noticed until now.
It didn’t make sense unless James had tipped the scale in her favor.
“Sophie.” Marilyn’s tone condensed into something impenetrable. “I can assure you, James had very little influence on me. I meant what I said after the Shasta case—I couldn’t spare you enough to promote you then. But now, I can.”
“Then—”
“Yes, he brought my attention to your effort that night, but don’t think that I hadn’t seen it before.
” A smile hung on her lips. “Do you think anyone else here would willingly add campaigns to their roster, or stay overtime?” She shook her head.
“You worked for every bit of this promotion. You proved it to me, not James.”
By the next morning, the click rate on the leaked articles Covey put out skyrocketed, and Sophie had more than a handful of apologies directed at her around the office.
“It’s about time,” Chloe grumbled when she called on her lunch break. “Anyway, did you hear from James yet? Those mooncakes were amazing.”
“No,” Sophie said, poking at her sandwich. “Listen, Chlo, I’ve gotta go. I’ll talk to you later.”
“Okay. Hang in there.”
She hung up and stared at her phone.
Irritation was a burr under her skin as she pressed a shaking hand to her forehead.
God, she had to call him and apologize for blowing up.
Digging her nails into her palms, she took a few shaky breaths and picked up her phone. Swiping open the thread with him, she paused.
What if he doesn’t want to hear from me? After all, I essentially accused him of ruining my life.
Her phone pulsed and she glanced down at the new message from him.
A ruined church touched her screen, walls crawling with tangled vines. Trees brushed their branches over empty arches that once housed windows, their green leaves already turning golden, dangling over the edges.
St. Dunstan in the East. Wish you were here with me
Her heart ached as her gaze lingered on the message. There was no use torturing herself by staring at it, but it was impossible to press the back button.
She lurched her head up at a knock on her door. “Come in.”
Nico opened the door, smiling like a kid on Christmas morning. Behind him stood a deliveryman bearing a large bouquet of yellow carnations.
“These just came for you,” Nico said.
Sophie strode over and took the flowers. There was no question about who sent them, but she rustled through the petals for a card anyway.
“It was a scheduled delivery,” the deliveryman explained. “We would’ve started yesterday, but it took a minute to set up. It’s interesting they chose this bouquet, though.”
Sophie tilted her head. “It is?”
“Sure. We usually get requests for rose bouquets when it’s an overseas delivery, but yellow carnations?” The deliveryman shrugged and shook his head. “Whoever sent you those must really want you to know they’re sorry. Anyhow, see you tomorrow.”
Her eyes widened. “Wait, tomo—”
The door shut and Nico raised a brow. “So it’s a recurring delivery. Interesting.”
Chuckling to himself, he slipped out.
Sophie finally dug out the manila card from the flowers, and glanced at the message inside.
‘Hope you like the flowers. I don’t know if you’ll see this, but I hope you understand that I really am sorry. I can’t say that enough-J’
Maybe it was the conversation with Marilyn, or something else entirely. But Sophie’s feet slid out from under her as her heart started to crumble.
Right as Sophie opened up her email after lunch the next day, her phone buzzed.
James, again.
Guilt flooded Sophie as she glanced at his contact name. She hadn’t called him after the news broke, or when she found out she was wrong. She couldn’t bring herself to.
Yet here he was, no doubt texting an attachment of a beautiful place.
Opening the message, she glanced at the picture of a water canal, golden bobs of lamplight skittering across the river.
Little Venice. Also, I’m going to be staying in London for a few more days. Things are taking longer than I expected. Marilyn mentioned you took yourself off Lotus’s case and I’m assuming since I haven’t heard from you, that answers the question on whether or not I can see you when I get back
Settling back in her seat, she placed her phone beside her keyboard and sighed, covering her mouth with her hand.
‘A few more days.’
What did that mean? One more day or week?
Turning the rose-gold bracelet on her wrist, she worried her lip.
As to whether or not he can see me…
The false anger surrounding her thoughts a few days prior had left, and only pure apprehension remained.
The person who hacked Delacroix and stabbed James in the back was still out there, and it was likely the same person who leaked James and Sophie’s relationship. With someone like that lurking around, doubt poisoned Sophie’s blood.
What if whoever the leak was watching them, waiting for them to find each other again before striking?
No, that’s just paranoia talking.
She bit her lip and picked up her phone. Reclining in her chair, she opened the text thread with her mother.
Sorry I had to cancel our celebration but I was thinking we could reschedule for a few weeks from now?
One of the hardest parts was hiding the truth from her mom.
She tended not to read pay attention to the news, and it was a miracle no one had sent her anything. Getting Noah to keep quiet was easy enough, but lying to her mom’s face …
Sophie’s phone pulsed and she read the message from her mom.
Aiyah, you’re scheduling your own mother now? But yes, a few weeks sounds wonderful.
Sophie smiled and set her phone down.
I’ll tell her at some point that this was all for her. But for now…
A knock rang out on her door frame and Nico entered with the same delivery man in tow, this time holding a bouquet of white orchids.
Thanking him, she glanced at Nico’s coy smile. “What?”
“My sister is obsessed with flowers, and last night, I asked her what flowers symbolized apology.” Nico’s grin doubled in size as he eyed the orchids. “Guess he really wants you to know he’s sorry.”