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“Of course,” I say, taking another sip of my drink.
Just at that moment, a redhead hops on the bar and removes her shirt. Her breasts hang freely. It’s too rowdy, so Sophia grabs my hand to lead me outside.
The air is crisper than usual, maybe because we’re deep into fall now. The vibrant trees’ leaves fall to the ground, and the cold air slaps me in the face.
“I think you should give him another chance,” she suggests. “When he came over, the look on his face—I’ve never seen him so worried about you. He doesn’t cheat on you or treat you like shit. He’s kind to you.” Her eyes gloss over. “He messed up, I get it, but are you going to allow one bad mistake to fuck up everything you had?” She tightens the brown scarf around her neck. “I wish I had someone to love me the way he loves you.”
I think about her words, and maybe she’s right. Maybe I’m being too hard on him, but the thought of loving him makes me nervous. I gave my ex my all and look at how that ended. He turned out to be someone I thought he wasn’t.
We stroll across the wet pavement, passing people.
I’m afraid to love again, to open up again, to express my feelings for him, because he might use them against me. I know he’s not like my ex. Jasper treated me a lot better, but I can’t help those thoughts circling in my head. My sister is right, during our whole marriage he has been good to me.
I catch a leaf in my hand and toss it to the ground. “I’ll think about it,” I murmur.
“Good.” She looks up at the sky, then back to me. “I have to start over, don’t I? My life, I mean.”
“Have you told Mom about your decision to divorce Tate?”
Her ponytail sways as she shakes her head. “No. And I don’t plan to for a while. I’ll tell her when I’m ready. I know she won’t be as hard on me as she was on you, but she’s still going to be mad.” She smiles. “You brought shame to this family, Sophia,” she says, mocking our mother’s voice.
I burst out laughing. “You can’t do anything right, Poppy. Do you honestly believe that cotton goes with cashmere? Poppy, you can’t do better than Link,” I mock along with her. “Sit up straight and eat with the proper fork.” I laugh, then burst into tears. The pain I feel from the way my mother treats me hits me in the chest. It hits me that she really is an awful person.
Sophia slings her arm around my shoulders, and we slowly continue our walk. I feel my mascara clumping around my eyes.
“Jasper has this crazy theory.”
We cross the street and stand in front of a well-lit boutique.
“What is it?”
I look at the lit buildings around us, trying to figure out where we are so Michael can pick us up.
“That Mom is jealous of me. And that’s the only reason she criticizes everything I do.”
Sophia stops, glancing at my face. “I always suspected it, too. I also think she resents you because you look like your biological father. Your father was a famous artist, and she put pressure on you because of that. I think you and her need space from each other, and I think you shouldn’t give Mother so much power over you. I get it, we only have one mother, but we have to do what’s best for our mental health.”
I place my hand over her forehead. “Who are you? You sure don’t sound like the Sophia I know,” I tease her.
She smiles. “I’m a grown-up, and I’m finally putting my daughter first.”
“I’m proud of you,” I repeat to her because I really am. I kiss her cheek.
“I’m proud of you, too,” she says.
Jasper
For the last few days, I tried everything to get Poppy to talk to me. I ordered food from her favorite restaurants, I tried to plead with her to hear me out, and I told her she only heard bits and pieces of the conversations and didn’t have the full picture, but she doesn’t want to listen to me. I never wanted to hurt her on purpose, and I wish like hell I never told Trent that. At the time I was only thinking about my own wants and needs, I didn’t care how it affected her.
It’s hard not sleeping in the same bed with her.
So I have to go to Lake for some advice on dealing with this mess I’m in.
I knock on the door, and Lake looks at me through the glass.
Her skin is glowing, and now she’s allowing her hair to grow out. Pregnancy looks good on her, but I don’t know why she’s working. If Poppy was carrying my child, she wouldn’t be allowed to work, she would have to focus on resting and taking care of herself and the baby.
Where the fuck did that thought come from? I shouldn’t be entertaining the idea.
