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Her formerly languorous muscles tightened. What if Doug ignored her and showed up? Holding her breath, she peered through the peephole.
Sophie’s shoulders softened. A young boy sporting a backward baseball cap, slouchy jeans, and an enormous bouquet of flowers stood on her doorstep.
Had Doug somehow found her and was now sending flowers, his usual MO when he’d messed up? Well, except for the ultimate mess-up at the end––no flowers had accompanied the abandonment at the altar. But this colorful bouquet wasn’t her ex’s customary two-dozen pink roses, so who knew.
Bemused, she accepted the flowers from the gangly teenage boy and carried the bouquet into the kitchen. A vibrant mix of sunflowers, bird-of-paradise, and violet-colored accents, it was like a burst of tropical sunlight. She sniffed the fragrant blooms and happiness sparkled inside her.
She ripped the envelope open. “Thanks for being such a bright ray of sunshine. Nick.”
She hugged the card to her chest and two-stepped around the kitchen. Cracking open one eye, Zack watched her joyous dance. Wow. Flowers just because. Not for an apology, not for a birthday, not for an anniversary. Just because he was thinking of her.
Without hesitation, she dialed his cell to thank him.
“Hello, Nick’s phone,” a woman’s voice purred.
Sophie’s glanced at the screen to make sure she hadn’t called his office number. Nope, it was his cell. “Umm, can I please speak to Nick?”
“Can I tell him who’s calling? He’s in a meeting right now.” Was this Heather answering his cell phone? It was one thing for her to be answering the office phone, but his personal cell?
“Of course, it’s Sophie.” Had she covered the slight tremor in her voice?
“Sophie?” A long pause ensued. “Oh, the tenant. Is there a problem with the cottage?” Boredom dripped from her tone.
Sophie fought back a rude retort. What a bitch. Apparently, Nick hadn’t informed Heather that he was seeing her.
“No, nothing wrong with the house. Just tell him I called, please. Thanks.” She hung up, the initial elation over the flowers deflating.
Maybe Nick sent flowers to all the women he slept with. If Heather, who worked with him daily, had no clue they were involved, maybe she’d read too much into last night. She shouldn’t assume anything from his note or gift.
Hell, the flowers were probably a send-off gift. After sleeping with her, he was probably sprinting for the hills to escape the woman with the steamer trunk overflowing with issues. What healthy, awesome man would want to be with her?
Glancing at the clock, Sophie cursed her mother. Going to a fancy lunch held about as much appeal as a root canal. Oh well, at least it would distract her from obsessing over the Heather situation. She grabbed her keys and headed into town.
Pulling up at the Surf and Sand Hotel, she squared her shoulders and donned her invisible armor for an hour of Martine. At least she looked the part in a simple ice-blue summer sheath and strappy nude sandals, a far cry from her daily attire in the last few weeks.
Her mother waved from a table nestled by the balcony overlooking the powerful Pacific Ocean. As usual, she looked beautiful, a petite, glamorous redhead with a porcelain-doll face. In a nod to her mother’s French heritage, Sophie greeted her with a kiss on each cheek.
“Ah, you look lovely, Sophie, very elegant.” Her mother sounded relieved. What did she expect? That she’d show up in her pajamas?
“Thanks, Maman. What a surprise to see you. How’s everything?” She settled into her chair and picked up a menu. The faster she ordered lunch, the sooner she could escape.
“I’m fine, but I’m worried about you. This impulsive tantrum has gone too far. You must move back to San Diego and get a real job. Nobody will take care of you but yourself, and you can’t squander your savings while you chase pipe dreams.” Her mother leaned closer, her dark eyes intent.
Sophie recoiled, shifting back in her seat. So much for being the ladies who lunch. She inhaled deeply. Exhaled a steadying breath.
“Nice to see you too. Look, I appreciate your concern, but everything’s going well for me here. I’m healing. I’m independent. I’m making a life for myself.” Why couldn’t her mother accept her as she was?
“Ahh, I am glad you’re feeling better after what happened with that bastard who humiliated you. Didn’t I tell you he would cheat on you? Leave you?” Her sculpted eyebrows winged upward, a knowing expression marring her beauty.
She ground her molars together and prayed for patience. “Mother…”
Her mother’s ivory complexion suffused with color as she warmed to her favorite topic: never trust any man. “I warned you. Men are all alike. Just like your pitiful excuse of a father. He ran off with some slut, left us high and dry, without a cent. You know this, and yet you got engaged to someone just like your father—a charming snake.”
“Yes, you were right. Does that make you happy? But I don’t remember my father, so how could I pick someone just like him? I’m getting over my mistake. I refuse to believe that all men are evil.” Sophie hissed and gripped the edges of her chair.
A waiter approached, and her mother flicked him away like a pesky fly. He scuttled back, not eager to interrupt their obviously tense exchange.
“Look, I love you. I only tell you this because I want you to be happy. But you need to be practical. You’re twenty-eight years old, not a child. Believing you can write a book and make enough to live is ridiculous…” Her mother threw up a slender hand.
