Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 123579 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 618(@200wpm)___ 494(@250wpm)___ 412(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 123579 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 618(@200wpm)___ 494(@250wpm)___ 412(@300wpm)
When we’re young, we live for the good times, setting moments on fire, laughing and dancing in the flames. We’re invincible. No one tells you the memories may haunt you like ghosts, knocking around when the house is quiet and you’re alone with your regret. No one tells you about the rubble of your destruction. No one tells you that you’ll get burned, and those fiery moments become your mistakes. At least no one told me. I wish they had. With this good man at my side who deserves more than the ashes of my transgressions, I wish more than anything someone had told me.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Trevor
I’m not a huge fan of Indian food, but Sofie’s eyes lit up over that menu, so that’s the one I chose. I’m just hanging up with the place around the corner when she comes back into the living room, dressed down. As good as she looked dressed to kill, I think I prefer the yoga pants and off-the-shoulder sweatshirt she wears now.
“Sorry I don’t have anything that would fit you.” She laughs up at me, shorter without her high heels. “Glad you made yourself at least more comfortable.”
My suit jacket, vest, and tie are draped over the couch. I’ve rolled my sleeves up to my elbows and even poured myself a scotch. I’m the picture of relaxed male, but inside I’m still seething over what happened at the restaurant. That weasel touching Sofie. That woman calling her a slut. I’ve been keeping a rein on my temper, but it’s fraying. Every time I think about the way Esteban Ruiz looked at Sofie, about his proprietary touch, I want to smash something. Preferably something shaped like his head.
“I ordered the food.” We sit down on the couch beside each other. “Are you sure the rice and vegetables will be enough? Where’s my horse tonight?”
“Oh, it’ll do.” Sofie pulls her long hair up and off her neck before letting it fall around her shoulders again. “The horse has a shoot in a few days, and it takes more than barre classes to look good naked.”
Her eyes fly up to meet mine.
“Not actually naked. I’ll be wearing panties.”
Okay.
“And, well, that’s it. Just the panties.” She scrunches up her face. “Sorry. It’s my job.”
“I get it.”
I don’t like it, but I get it.
She’s nervous. I could make small talk until our food arrives, but I’m not good at that. I want to know who Esteban is…was…to her. If they weren’t lovers, I’ll eat my shoe. I know Sofie’s not some shrinking virgin. She’s confident and unashamed of her sexuality. I like that about her actually, but there was more to Esteban. It seems that I’m always looking for more when it comes to Sofie, but this time I’m not sure I’ll like what I find.
“You’re dying to ask me about Esteban, right?” Sofie teases me, but her eyes can’t quite catch up to her tone.
“Yeah, li’l bit.”
I scoot close enough to pull her head down to my lap so I have an aerial view of her face. She relaxes some, flipping her legs up and letting her feet dangle over the arm of the couch at the other end. She closes her eyes and sighs before looking up at me.
“I left home right after high school.” She pulls a chunk of her hair across her mouth before speaking again. “I needed to get away from here, from this city, from this life. To do something nobody saw coming, not even me.”
“Is that why you turned down all the college offers?” I stroke the hair back from her face, tracing her silky eyebrows with my thumb. “Just needed a different direction?”
“Well, and remember I thought I was biding my time until Walsh popped the question.” Sofie rolls her eyes. “I could have worked at the 7-Eleven for all I cared. It was just temporary. Something fun to do until Walsh came to his senses.”
She gives a quick shake of her head.
“Such a fool.” She shrugs. “Anyway, I left New York altogether and lived in Milan for a year or so. I didn’t know it would become all that it did. A career that lasted this long.”
“At eighteen?” I shouldn’t be so astounded. By twenty-one, Harold and I had started Deutimus, but fresh out of high school living on her own in Italy? “Your parents let you do that?”
She blinks up at me, a frown crinkling her smooth skin.
“How could they have stopped me? I was making so much money modeling, and honestly, they just didn’t care.”
My mother sent me care packages every month my freshman year. I can’t imagine my parents being that detached.
“In hindsight, I wish they had found a way to stop me.” I barely hear Sofie’s addendum it’s so quiet. “They left me to my own devices, and I got in a lot of trouble.”