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She rested a hand on my forearm. “I couldn’t ask you to do that.”
“He’ll give it to me for wholesale.” Even if he didn’t, I’d cover the excess.
“Can you do an estimate for what this would cost, and I’ll let you know if it’s in the budget?”
“Of course.” She didn’t need to know my estimate would be skewed. I didn’t want her to hire anyone else. I had this ridiculous desire to make her dreams come true.
Before I moved back, I thought I was okay with her moving on—marrying and having kids with someone else. But now that she was standing in front of me, our shared memories and her presence flooding my mind, I wasn’t so certain about anything anymore.
“I really appreciate this.” She moved toward the kitchen.
I hesitated, taking in her office space. It had a similarly neglected look to the storage area. A beat-up desk, metal filing cabinets, cheap shelves that sagged from the weight of the books, and a small black couch with cracked leather. The only thing new in the room was her laptop.
She stood in the doorway. “Are you coming?”
“You know, this office reminds me of those storage shelves.”
She shook her head and crossed her arms over her chest. “Not happening. A new office is not in the budget.”
I moved closer to her, her eyes widening with each step. “Is it because you always put other things and people before yourself? Don’t you deserve the best?”
Her mouth opened, then closed. Her fingers tightened on the doorframe. “I don’t know.”
“What if you had a beautiful space for your office? A new desk, bookshelves, filing cabinets that weren’t from the seventies.”
She laughed at that.
“Can you imagine yourself sitting at the desk?”
Her eyes clouded for a minute as if she were imagining just that. “That would be nice, but—”
“But nothing.” I moved around her, intending to start the measurements for the shelves, figure out the cost, and whether I could help her with the office.
She hurried after me and stopped me with a hand to my elbow. “You can’t help with the office.”
I raised a brow.
“I shouldn’t even be accepting your help with the shelves.”
“And why is that? Because we have history? Because we hurt each other?”
She waved a hand at me. “All of that. I’m not your responsibility anymore. Are you doing this to relieve the guilt for how things went down?”
I turned to fully face her, her hand naturally dropping away. “What are you talking about?”
She hesitated, licking her lips before she finally answered, “You feel guilty because you left.”
“What are you talking about—”
Her phone rang, and she held up her hand to stop me. “It’s Colton. I have to take this.”
Why would Colton be calling this early in the morning? It was a welcome interruption because I wasn’t sure what Sophie was getting at. She was the one who’d rejected my proposal.I hadn’t left her.
She answered her phone. “Hello.”
She listened intently, her eyes widening, then she rested her hand on her forehead.
I wanted to move closer and comfort her, but something held me back. My mind was still spinning from her assertion from a minute ago.
