A true smile lights her face. “Oh, that’s right. How could I forget?”
“Don’t worry, I’m not too offended.”
“What a relief,” she says, and pulls her legs up beneath her on the couch. “Tomorrow, I can’t do this with you anymore.”
“Eating truffle burgers on your couch.”
“Exactly,” she says. “I’ll have to do it alone, and that’s just sad.”
I run a hand along my jaw.Still in love with her ex,I think. The words I’d prepared for tonight don’t feel appropriate right now. “We’ll see how we feel,” I say. “It’s not like we’ve signed a contract.”
“No, just a professional one,” she says, and smiles. It’s a soft one. A private one. Different than the sharply tinged professional one she’ll wear tomorrow. Hair likely swept back, a pencil skirt on, and delivering the pitch of a lifetime.
I can’t wait to see it, and I can’t believe I get to see this side of her now, too. The fierce and the soft.
“That’s a question for tomorrow,” I say. “First you have a terrifying client to pitch to.”
She pretends to shudder. “Yes, God help me.”
“I doubt he’s that scary.” I rise from the couch. Stay any longer, and I won’t be able to leave. And I should. She has work, and she’s sad. It’s there in her eyes even if she tries to hide it.
Sophia rises too. She’s standing close to me, body against body, heat against heat. “He’s scary sometimes,” she murmurs, “but tonight he was nicer than I could ever have imagined.”
“For you,” I murmur, “anytime.”
She takes my hand, and threads her own fingers through it. “Stay the night?” she says. “This isn’t technically off-limits until after the pitch tomorrow.”
It’s late when we finally stretch out in her bed to sleep. It’s a queen, smaller than mine, and it smells like her. I pull her close and she nestles against me, her breathing heavy. I look up at the ceiling and think about Percy’s smug face and Sophia’s tears.
It’s been years since I’d stopped believing that relationships can work, and years since I stopped thinking they were a worthwhile investment in my life. But here I am, starting to believe again, and all thanks to a woman who isn’t ready to love someone new.
23
SOPHIA
I wake up alone the next morning to my alarm. It’s early, the rising sun shining in through my windows. We’d forgotten the drapes again. I turn over in bed and find the other side, his side, still faintly warm.
In my living room I find a folded note resting next to my tea mug from last night. The takeout boxes are gone.
I unfold the little note.Good luck today, sweetheart.
Short and to the point, like most of Isaac’s communication. And then that endearment again. I don’t even think my boyfriends before Percy called me anything like that. Perhaps they used the occasional “baby,” casually, like an afterthought. But it was never spoken with warmth or deliberation, not a word offered like a caress.
I set the opened note on my dresser. “Thanks,” I say, and open the doors to my closet. “I’m going to blow you away today.”
Toby is already at the office when I arrive. His hair is styled to perfection, and when Jenna walks in a few minutes later, she’s in a canary yellow shirt, tucked into her cigarette-style pants.
They’re both dressed to kill.
“Game day,” Jenna says, looking between us both. “Feel like running it through one more time?”
“Let’s do it twice,” I say, “just to be sure.”
I hit all the points as we rehearse. The technology works flawlessly. I don’t let myself focus on what happened yesterday. Not on the incident at Salt, not on Percy’s declaration, and not the fact that after this pitch, Isaac and I can’t continue seeing one another. Not if the pitch goes well, at any rate.
I only let myself focus on the numbers and the words. A pitch is a performance, and I sink deep into the role. We leave Exciteur with plenty of time to spare and arrive at the Winter Hotel early.
The lobby feels familiar now, and so do a few of the receptionists, who give us all cheery hellos. Andrew takes us up to the second floor and the Winter Corporation’s official offices.