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If I were another man, I’d declare it love here and now and drop to my knees to confess. But I’m not, and I’ve always sworn that I wouldn’t let myself get distracted by women. Relationships have always seemed messy and annoying to me, and any crushes I’ve had have been short-lived and quickly extinguished.
But Sophie…
I have hundreds of people whom I’d call friends, but none of them really know me, not like her. There isn’t a single other person in my life who would challenge me like she does, who would push me to do better. Who I can always,alwaysrely on to be there.
If she gets her way, if she leaves, who am I going to depend on? Who’s going to be there for me? I can’t let this happen.
A plan starts formulating in the back of my mind, and even when the kids present me with a horror of a cheese-and-peanut-butter sandwich, I don’t mind that much. I’m too occupied with more important things as I open up an email and start drafting an offer.
CHAPTER 15
SOPHIE
“Good night, honey,” I say with a smile, trying not to let Chloe’s yawn or Ava’s tiny snores make me too sleepy as well.
I’ve had a hell of a day, but a productive one. And I absolutely aced my interview. Not to brag, but the interviewer and I got on really well, and really hitting it off is like the first step in getting what you want from a situation. You can go far if you’re charming.
But because I spent the afternoon out, that meant I didn’t get home until nearly four p.m., by which time the kids needed their dinner and their baths and their beds. Shockingly, Lucas hadn’t just holed himself up in his room, which made a big change and one that was a welcome relief. But I guess I was still expecting too much to hope that he might have prepared their dinner as well.
So, despite having a brain of sludge, I still had to keep it together enough to cook and clean and entertain.
I need to get this new job. I need something that’s going to leave me feeling good at the end of the day. I need to stop feeling like this.
I drag myself back out into the kitchen, expecting to have to make myself something to eat. I feel it should be an instant-noodles kind of night, but dinner is a meal I make sure I never miss. I don’t believe in skipping food. It’s important stuff.
So my mouth drops open when I enter the kitchen to find a great spread of food — it’s takeout, but still plentiful. It’s enough that I don’t have to think about any of it at all. I blink hard, my eyebrows creasing in confusion. “What’s all this?”
Lucas shrugs, and if I didn’t know him better, I’d describe his look as humble.
But I do know him better, so I tense, preparing for the sting. Inevitably, he wants something. Despite my best efforts to resist it, when Lucas wants something, he gets it.
“I thought you’d be hungry,” he says and the creases in my forehead deepen.
“I am, but… Lucas what’s all this about? What do you want?”
“Who says I want anything?” he says, smiling like he’s innocent. It’s a move he’s clearly learned from Chloe, but I’m not falling for it.
“Oh, pull the other one. I’m too tired to deal with bullshit right now. Will you just tell me what’s going on, so I can eat and go to bed?”
He chuckles, and I’d almost call it nervous if I didn’t know him better. “Sophie, I really mean this. I thought you’d be hungry. Please, will you sit with me and share a meal?”
I’m too dumbfounded to move, let alone think. Some days, it feels like he barely knows my name, and now here he is, not only saying my name with complete earnestness, but also sayingplease? I didn’t think that word was even in his vocabulary. Lucas Adler is generally all aboutI want, I will have, give it to me nowrather thanplease, may I, and thank you very much.
But I am hungry. Against my better judgement, I move towards the table. “Okay, okay. Thank you.”
As I approach the table, he even pulls out my seat for me. I chuckle awkwardly as he does. This really does feel like I’m being buttered up for a shark trap, like I’m about to be bait for something with incredibly sharp teeth. But I can’t imagine what. There’s not a whole lot left that he can take from me.
“How was your day today?” he asks.
I feel like I’ve literally entered an alternative dimension. “Fine, I guess?”
“Wine? I have the finest red money can buy, and a pretty damn good white. And I can probably find some rosé in the cupboard somewhere too if you want.”
“Um, I guess red’s okay,” I say, still trying to process any of this.
He whips out a lighter, lights a pale pillar candle in the center of the table, then pops the cork out of the bottle “Excellent choice, madam,” he says with a grin. He’s even holding the bottle at the bottom like servers do in fancy restaurants. I guess it’s not a complete surprise that he knows that’s what people do. I’m sure he’s been to more than enough fancy restaurants to have observed it. It just seems like a bit of a miracle that he's ever paid enough attention to the staff to notice.
“So,” I say, narrowing my eyes as I sip my wine, “what have you done with the real Lucas Adler?”
