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Chapter Thirty
Sophie had texted she was on her way home and he paced the floor, unsure if her coming back from Chicago early was a good thing or a bad thing. He glanced at the clock. She should be there any minute, and the later it got, the more agitated he became.
His entire future was at stake.
His happiness, the life he wanted, it was all right here in front of him, waiting to happen. No matter how much she refused, he’d go with her to Chicago. She’d fight him, he knew that, but it didn’t matter. He needed to be with her. He’d convince her he’d be happy. And how could he not be? He’d be with her. So he was going.
End of story.
A car pulled into the driveway, and he didn’t even think about playing it cool, he just raced through the house and slammed out the back door.
She climbed out of the car and waved.
He took a deep breath and prepared to meet his future.
She walked over, and when she stood in front of him, she wrapped her arms around his waist and hugged him close, resting her cheek against his chest and closing her eyes.
He had no idea what it meant, but he pulled her tight and kissed the top of her head. “How’d the interview go?”
“I got the job,” she said, her arms squeezing tighter.
Of course she did. He’d never had any doubt about that. He decided not even to give her an option. “When do we move?”
She put her chin on his chest. “We’re not.”
He clenched his teeth and entangled himself from her. “Now, Sophie, I don’t care what you think, I’m not going to lose you. If I have to move to Chicago, I will. I’m not taking no for an answer.”
“No.” Her voice was light, far too light for the subject matter. “We’re not moving to Chicago.”
“I’m not living without you, and that’s final.”
“Final, huh?” She raised a brow, that sassy expression on her face.
“Yes, final.” Something that felt a lot like hope stirred in his chest because she’d lost that tired, strained, stressed expression she’d been walking around with.
“Is that your final word, Ryder?” She flashed him a sly smile.
He narrowed his gaze. “Are there other options on the table?”
“Yes, I thought of one.”
Please, please let it be what he thought. “Should we go inside and discuss it?”
“Yes, let’s.”
They walked into the kitchen and she kicked off her shoes, went into the living room, and plopped down on the couch. He followed, taking the seat next to her, twisting to face her. “So let’s hear it.”
“Well, I was thinking.” She smoothed her hand over her hair. “That I could stay here, in Revival.”
All the air seeped out of his lungs. God, it was what he wanted so badly; all he wanted was to agree, but he couldn’t.
And finally, he understood things from her point of view. Why she’d been so resistant. He shook his head. “Soph, I can’t let you do that for me.”
She tilted her head as though contemplating the meaning of life before she nodded. “Good.”
He didn’t know what to say to that, but his stomach sank and his hope died away.
“Because I wouldn’t be doing it for you. I’d be doing it for me.”
