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There were women. And I’ve dated my fair share. But then there’s Sophie. On a level by herself.
A jolt zips through me.
“Um, congratulations, Sophie.” With the blood rushing through my ears, I can’t tell exactly how pathetic I might sound.
Sophie’s gaze moves rapidly over me, her brow jammed down. “Oliver. I’m not engaged.”
“What?”
“I was never officially engaged, okay?” She tugs her hand through her dark curls. “Troy blew things out of proportion and his family thought we were more serious than we were.” She finishes with an, “Ugh!”
I hate myself for the wave of relief that’s making its way through me. “Still. I didn’t even know there was a Troy to begin with.” Why am I so upset by this?
“I told you I met someone.” She resumes our walk, her steps dull.
“Well, met someone could mean anything.” My face is starting to fill with blood once more. “I’m confused as to how his family could assume you’re getting married when you weren’t? What’s the deal with that?”
“It’s really complicated.” Her cheeks flush and she shakes her head. “I didn’t tell you because I didn’t know if you’d care. And you never mention the women you date.” She interrupts my protest before I can even start. “I know you date, Oliver. But we never talk about it. Besides, things with Troy happened so fast.”
Things with Troy. Why do I hate that phrase so much? And she is right. We set an unspoken precedence a long time ago. We don’t talk about our romantic lives. Wasn’t hard. I’ve never had a serious relationship to speak of. And I’d assumed Sophie hadn’t either.
We always talked about our work, families, and when something embarrassing happened. She was the first person I contacted when I lost my wallet in Brisbane and when I broke my hand in Beijing. I got a late night call from her when her sister had to have emergency surgery.
But the love stuff? Nope. Nothing.
“Look, we were never officially engaged,” she says. “I never had a ring. And he and I aren’t right for each other.” She whirls to me and holds up a hand. “I don’t have to defend my engagement, or lack thereof, to you, Oliver.”
She scowls and her words have bite. I’m shuffling through reasons why she could be upset. Maybe it’s still because of what happened last August but somehow it feels bigger than that.
“I know,” I insist.
“We don’t talk about stuff like this. For all I know,youcould be engaged.”
“Well, I’m not. You know I’m reserving that honor for my brothers.”
She lifts a shoulder like she doesn’t care. But her eyes hold a different story. “Why can’t you get married?” Her hands fly up into the air and then slap her thighs on the way down. “That whole, ‘my brothers can carry on the Tate name’ thing is just so dumb.” She bends her knees as she raises her arms again. “You can all get married. It’s not like there’s a moratorium on the number of Tate boys who are allowed to walk down the aisle.”
“Why the hostility? You’ve always known I’m not interested in marriage.”
“You’re only thirty-three years old, Oliver. You haven’t wanted to get married yet, but that doesn’t mean you won’t change your mind.”
“And why does this matter right now? We’re talking about you,” I shoot back.
Her gaze softens, her brown and gold eyes brimming with tears. “I just want to understand, that’s all.”
I sigh and begin walking again. “I decided when I was young that if marriage meant you argued a lot and left your kids for months at a time, then I wouldn’t do it. Why would I want that? Besides, having a family with the job I have? I couldn’t drag them along while I’m scouting locations for Sebastian.”
I glance at her quickly, and her expression seems calm. But expressions can be deceiving. We walk in silence.
Finally, I can’t take the quiet anymore. “I don’t know what to say. Do I say I’m sorry that things didn’t work out with him? Because something about this seems a little off. I’m glad you’re not getting married to this Troy guy because I think I know you well enough to know if you’re in love, and this is feeling like…that’s not the case.” I bring my still-a-little-sweaty hand up to massage the back of my neck.
“Well, don’t you just know everything?” She’s snarky…seething. “I was nearly engaged to the guy. Of course I had feelings for him.”
I’m glad she’s using the past tense, but this conversation is way out of my league. Clearly, my emotions can’t be trusted right now.
“I’m sorry, Soph.”
She’s quiet—almost defeated. “You’ve said sorry like ten times today. There’s nothing to be sorry about. I dated someone. Some people got the wrong idea about how much our relationship had progressed.” Her voice grows sharp. “I’m in my thirties and I live in a small town that, when it’s not peak tourist season, might have maybe less than ten eligible guys for me.” She gives a humorless laugh and stops to face me again. “So, forgive me for entertaining the idea off and on. Troy isn’t a bad guy.”
