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She pulls back, gripping my shoulders and giving me a once-over. “You know I would do anything for you, right?”
An appreciative smile pulls at my lips. “I know. I love you.”
We sit and she reaches across the table to take my hand in hers, inspecting the cut and the stellar job Mack did in cleaning it up. “I love you too, but if you don’t start taking your safety more seriously, we’re going to have a problem.”
From there, I tell her everything.
“So basically, until this fucker tries something else, they’re not going to do shit,” Sophie seethes. “That is not acceptable! I think I should call my dad or Harrison and see if they can help.”
I groan, dropping my chin into my hands as I brace my elbows on the table. “God, Soph, as much as I hate this, I can’t let you do that. I don’t want you to do that. I just want all of this to go away.”
She sits quietly for a minute, obviously thinking of solutions, and when she begins chewing on her bottom lip, I feel like I know what she’s going to say before the words come out of her mouth.
“Maybe you should call your parents.”
“They don’t care,” I retort. “They’ve basically written me off. For fuck’s sake, they might be the ones who hired this guy. Maybe their new tactic to get me to cave and come back to the fold is to scare me into it.”
A sad expression washes over her face and I reach over and squeeze her hand.
“Stop,” I tell her. “You know I’ve come to terms with all of that and I’m fine. If things don’t calm down, I might take you up on that spare bedroom you offered.”
“Promise?” Sophie asks.
“Promise.”
After another glass of wine, we decide it’s too late for responsible working women to be out and about in the city and we schedule our respective Ubers.
“Call me if anything happens,” Sophie orders. “I mean, anything. An email, a note… whatever. And don’t walk anywhere alone.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I say, saluting her and trying to diffuse the seriousness of the situation.
“I love you, you bullheaded, independent woman,” she says, wrapping her arms around me tightly.
“Love you,” I tell her, hugging her back and soaking up her goodness, hoping to take this calm feeling back to my apartment with me and get some sleep.
“Text me when you make it home.” Every time she tells me that, she reminds me what I missed out on by having the mother I did. Never, not once in my life, did my mom tell me to text her when I got anywhere. But thankfully, God gave me Sophie, and she’s the best person I could ever ask for.
As I take the flight of stairs up to my apartment, the weight of the day starts to lay heavy on my shoulders and I feel like I might have to skip the shower and head straight to bed. Pulling my key out, I notice something hanging on my door handle before I even get there.
It’s a small floral gift bag.
Who could’ve left this?
For a split second, I wonder if it was Mack, but then I remember he doesn’t know where I live.
Sophie was with me all evening, unless she ordered something to be delivered as a pick-me-up while we were out. I wouldn’t put it past her, because that’s just the kind of friend she is.
Opening the door, I’m grateful I took the time to come home and leave a light on. My apartment is glowing in the dim light from the lamp and television, and it looks so cozy. Setting the bag down on the coffee table, I head straight to my bedroom to strip and put on my favorite silk pajamas. It was a gift to myself last year at Christmas and they were worth every penny. Pulling my hair back in a ponytail, I wash my face and brush my teeth, before heading to the kitchen for a cup of tea.
A couple glasses of wine, followed by a nice cup of chamomile tea, is my secret to a good night’s sleep.
With my steaming cup of tea in hand, I settle onto the couch and pull my favorite blanket onto my lap before grabbing the cute little gift bag and searching for a card or tag.
There’s no identification or label to let me know where it came from, just a piece of tissue paper concealing the contents. I can’t help the faint smile on my face as I reach in and find a small box.
My phone chimes and makes me jump, dropping the box on the floor.
“Damn it, I forgot to text Soph,” I mutter to no one but myself.
