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I laugh and extend my hand. "Ryan," I say. "She just asked me to keep her company."
"Yeah, I have a boyfriend," Sophia cuts in. "I know—shocker."
It's the first time she's said boyfriend, and I'm pretty surprised. This whole time, I thought I was the one coming on too strong...but Sophia didn't hesitate, not even tripping over the words.
"Ooh, I love it," Edie says. "Well, you can come this way—I just got a shipment in from an estate sale. There are some beautiful pieces here."
Edie guides us to a back room filled with boxes, the smell of dust, incense, and old fabric filling my lungs. Sophia gasps andpractically leaps forward, reaching for one of the boxes with wide eyes.
"Edie…this is incredible," she says. "Thank you."
"No problem, hon'," Edie replies. "I'll leave you to it."
She flashes me a wink before leaving us behind, and I take in the sights around me. There are old clothes everywhere, a few strange antique items, sketches all over the walls, and posters from various fashion weeks that go back decades. Sophia is completely enamored with the boxes, and I walk around to kneel across from her, frowning.
"Can I help at all...?"
She chews on her lip. "Yeah...go ahead and parse through this stuff. If it's severely stained or falling apart, I can't use it—otherwise, I want it."
"Gotcha," I say.
We start to go through the cardboard box, pulling out old clothes that smell like an old woman's perfume. It feels strange to be here—to watch how Sophia treats this stuff like it's buried treasure when, to anyone else, it would be trash. My heart warms at the sight of her at work, a burning heat traveling up my throat.
Fuck, she's so damn lovable.
"How did you get into all this anyway?" I ask. "The boutique, the vintage clothes...ever since I started seeing you outside of the White Oak, it hasn't escaped my notice that you're a bit of a savant with needle and thread."
She scoffs. "You flatter me."
"I mean it," I say. "The stuff you do is pretty amazing. My mom has always been a quilter and wasn't opposed to patching stuff up, but this is on another level."
Sophia sighs. "Well...it's kind of a sad story, so I don't tell it too often."
"Try me."
"Okay." Sophia keeps working, averting her eyes to look closer at the clothes. "We were really broke growing up. My parents were junkies. Or...I guess they still could be because they lost custody, and I went into foster care when I was thirteen."
"Shit," I mutter. "Sophia, I'm sorry, you don't have to—"
"That's okay," she says, shaking her head. "I'm fine with my childhood these days; it was long ago. But basically, the way I was brought up, I didn't get new clothes. I got secondhand stuff, and then I had to make the used clothing my own if I wanted to feel beautiful. So that's exactly what I did...and the hand-me-downs turned into a bit of an obsession, then a dream."
I sit back on my heels. "It's your dream?"
She gives me a small smile. "Retro Revival...a shop of my very own. I still scope out spaces sometimes, but I've never been able to afford it."
"And if you could?"
She lets out a dreamy sigh. "Well, obviously, I would quit my job at the White Oak. Work full-time on vintage clothes and my own designs, running the business...it just slips away from me every so often."
"I can imagine," I say. "You're one busy lady."
She meets my eyes. "At least I have an apartment, though. I've got friends, a great job, and insurance...enough income to buy new clothes if I really want to. Plus, I've got a sexy-as-hell boyfriend now."
I laugh. "Yeah...I thought I heard you say that."
"Is it okay?"
"Yeah," I nod. "It's more than okay."
