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“I don’t know,” Sonia muttered. “But I can’t tolerate dishonesty. It’s a hard no for me.”
Was that it? Or was she jealous of Diana, of the history Brendan had with her?
Or was Brendan right — that she was so scared of a relationship, she’d grab any excuse to leave?
Would he have actually told her, if Di hadn’t?
What would her reaction have been then?
“Ugh!” Sonia grabbed her hair in frustration. “I can’t take this. I’d rather be alone forever. People are shit.”
“Have some tea,” said Adrienne mildly.
Blowing out a breath, Sonia took a sip of tea. “I never should have accepted his help with funding the dance company. That offer’s got a thousand strings attached. Not that I’ve heard from Mary de Lorca yet. He was probably making it all up.”
“Sonia.If this woman is such a philanthropist, she should be easy to find. Reach out to her yourself. Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth.”
“I am definitely looking this fucking horse in the mouth. Because it contains Brendan O’Brian’s lying tongue. The man wants to be a politician! It’s all about favors. If I take this one, I’ll owe him, and I promise you he’ll collect.”
Adrienne snorted. “Based on my unbiased impression of meeting him in his underwear, and my seventy-plus years of experience in judging men, he’s sweeter and far more sincere than you give him credit for.”
Dammit, Sonia knew that. But acknowledging it made it so much harder to move on.
She stared into her mug of tea. “If I accept the donation from Mary de Lorca, Brendan will be squiring her to my dance shows. I’ll have to see him. I’ll have to refrain from rearranging his face.”
But the connection ran deeper than that. If she stayed friends with Diana and Ian, Brendan would never be far away.
“If you don’t accept the donation,” Adrienne said calmly, “there won’t be any shows.”
With a growl, Sonia put the mug aside and pulled the blanket over her head.
Her phone chose that moment to ring.
It was embarrassing, how quickly she shoved away the blanket and grabbed for the phone on the nightstand. The mug wobbled as her hand knocked against it.
She didn’t recognize the number, and her heart sank.Not Brendan.She was inclined to toss the phone aside, but some instinct made her answer.
“Hello?”
“Is this Sonia Jacobson?” It was an older woman’s voice, polished and modulated.
“Yes.” Sonia sat up straighter.
“This is Mary de Lorca. I was given your number by Brendan O’Brian. Is this a good time for you?”
“It is,” said Sonia cautiously, putting her phone on speaker and widening her eyes at her grandmother. “Brendan mentioned you might call. It’s — it’s great to hear from you.”
Saying his name sent a pathetic, persistent flutter of hope through her.
“Well, Brendan has had nothing but praise for you. And when he showed me a clip of your performance, I was positively blown away. It’s one of the most exciting things I’ve seen on stage in years. I love your mission.”
“Thank you,” Sonia said faintly. Her heart was rocketing in her chest.
“I’d like to have a conversation about how I can support you. Would you be interested?”
“Very much.” Her brain felt scrambled, but she tried to find some words. “Can we meet soon?”
“I’d be delighted. Before we find a time, let me just say how lucky you are to have Brendan in your corner. If he’s behind someone, he’s behind them a hundred and ten percent. He gives his all in supporting the people and causes he cares about. And believe me, with some of the characters you meet around here — well, he’s special, that’s all. But I’m sure you know this. He said you’ve known each other for years.”
