AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I closed the distance briefly, pressing a quick peck against her lips. Thank god Jamey was in the other room watching cartoons. “I’m sorry, angel. I didn’t even realize.”
————
“So, this one is from fifth grade. Sophie performed a Cher song for the talent show, she insisted on dressing up like her and everything. What song was it, honey?” Leslie asked Martin, the photo album spread out on the table in front of us.
“Oh my god, Mom, please don’t.”
“I think it was Dark Lady,” Martin laughed, crossing the room and taking a look at the photo Leslie pointed to. “She got in trouble for singing about killing people.”
I laughed as I looked at it, the sunglasses on her face and the sparkly dress so very Sophie. I turned the page, desperate to see more, and Sophie glared at her mother from the kitchen. “Mom, please.”
“What? You look adorable.”
The next page featured a younger version of Sophie with a reddened face and puffy eyes, tears halfway down her cheeks, as she clutched a baseball bat in her hands. Leslie cackled as she noticed me looking at it. “You’ll never believe the story behind that one. She had this great idea when she was at a friend’s party that they could play a game—what did you call it Sophie?”
Sophie’s face paled as she buried her head in her hands. “Catch Grandma With a Baseball Bat.”
Martin started laughing, clearly recalling more of the story. “That’s right. One of you decided to be the baseball bat wielder, and the rest were ‘grandmas,’ right?”
She nodded into her hands.
“And you went first,” Leslie continued for Martin, her laughter barely contained. “And you hit your best friend in the face with the bat.”
Sophie groaned. “Yeah.”
I pressed my lips together as I tried not to laugh, little Sophie’s crying face staring up at me from the page.
“She felt so bad about it. Broke Sandra’s nose, do you remember?” Martin asked her.
“Obviously.”
I chuckled as I looked at her, her bright blue eyes trained on me from between her fingers. “I’ll make a mental note to never let Jamey play that.”
————
The car ride home was quieter than I expected. Jamey had already fallen asleep in the backseat as I weaved through the Boston traffic, the excitement of meeting new people and playing with Aaron and Michelle’s baby, Brynn, too much for him. Sophie spent the majority of it on her phone or staring out the window, silently watching the world pass by.
Despite the initial awkwardness and having to think on my feet most of the evening, I’d had a good time. Martin and I had bonded over the fact that he teaches psychology at Harvard, we’d never crossed paths, but he loved that I was an alumnus. Sophie’s mom didn’t need to work. She came from old oil money, which explained their decently lavish home and cars, and likely how Sophie managed to purchase a condo at her age with a startup business.
I’d found myself actually enjoying being around her family. They were entertaining, to say the least, and seemed to buy everything we told them, even the hiccup about how long we’d been together. It had gone better than I expected, even with Sophie not telling them about Jamey.
I wanted to ask her about it. It had sat in my head like a stone all evening, but I wanted to wait until Jamey wasn’t in earshot, until he couldn’t potentially wake up and overhear us. I didn’t want to confuse him further, he had already begun asking questions before we’d left.
I carried Jamey up to his bedroom once we got home. Sophie had left some of her things at the house, so she’d insisted on coming in, even though I knew how horrible of an idea that was. By the time I’d made my way back downstairs, not bothering to change out of my slacks and button-up shirt, she was sitting where I’d found her before on the couch. In her hands, she held two glasses of red wine, and I seriously considered going back upstairs to change my shirt.
“Hey,” I said, slowly crossing the room that separated us. In the low light, she looked ethereal—her long brown hair hanging around her face, the yellow of her dress complimenting the freckles on her skin, the blue of her eyes. I already salivated for her, but I tried to tamp it down.
“Hi,” she breathed. “You didn’t change.”
“I was hoping we wouldn’t have another spilled wine scenario,” I chuckled, pressing my palms into the back of the sofa and leaning over the edge. “Oh.” She said with a weak smile.
She passed the glass over the couch and sipped on her own as I took it. I’d only had one drink earlier since I was driving, but she’d downed at least two with dinner and a third after the whole grandma-with-a-bat situation. I watched her, studying her. Why do you need another glass of wine, Sophie?
“Do you… uh, would you like me to go?” She asked, her voice quiet.
Every part of me screamed to say no, to tell her to stay, to drag her upstairs. “Only if you want to.”
She set her half-empty glass on the coffee table and stood, smoothing out her dress. Fuck, I’d said the wrong thing. Ask her to stay, ask her to stay, ask her to fucking stay.
