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She kisses my cheek before walking away and I’m left staring as she leaves. The past thirty minutes barely even feel real. What was real though? That kiss. It was more real than anything else in my life right now.
And that’s fucking terrifying.
CHAPTER14
Sophia
When it comes to living, I have a pretty easy-going attitude. I take things as they come. And I never take things too seriously. If something goes right, it goes right. And if something goes wrong, then it was meant to go wrong. I suck it up and I move on.
I guess you could say that makes me a free spirit. My mom was a free spirit. She loved to dance and travel and she loved life. My dad rarely ever talks about her. But when he does, he always mentions her boundless energy. Her strength, her wisdom. According to him, we took the best parts of her. So much of her lives inside of us. She was taken from us earlier than she was supposed to. And that isn’t fair.
Sometimes, I can’t help but blame myself for her death. Even though it’s not my fault. Unfortunately in my family, her death is a topic to tiptoe around. No one quite knows how to talk about it. Katerina talks about her, but never how she died. And dad barely even talks about her at all. I guess it hurts too much.
When life rips away the person that was meant to love you the most in the world, you learn an important lesson. That it’s too short. And you might as well live it to the fullest while you’re still here.
But despite all my talk about enjoying life and doing reckless things in the moment, there’s one thing I’ve never done. I have never in my entire life had a man in my home before. And I am most definitely freaking out about it.
“This is so fucking ridiculous,” I say to myself, blowing out a soft breath as I take in my living room.
I just finished cleaning up my bedroom, which I rarely ever do and now I’m trying to decide if there’s anything else to clean in here. It’s tidy enough and if Tony doesn’t like it, he can get over himself.
I still can’t believe he agreed to come here. Hell, I still can’t believe yesterday even happened at all. I keep expecting someone to pinch me and tell me it’s an illusion. Or for someone to say ‘sike’ or some shit. I would have never in a thousand years thought Anthony Legan would forgive me, not to mention… kiss me. I guess I really do have insane powers of persuasion after all.
Or he’s using you.
The thought creeps in into my head and I frown. He wouldn’t do that to me. But then I have to consider the fact that he would and he could. Because in our world, we take the phrase, ‘all fair’s in love and war’, to the next level. Using people, betraying people, it’s all fun and games. And Tony definitely seems like the kind of guy who would consider taking revenge on me fun.
But this isn’t about trusting him. It’s about seeing where this thing between us goes. It’s about enjoying life. When my doorbell rings, I fight off a grin, getting to my feet to open the door.
My eyes widen at the large bouquet that’s in front of my face. Well his face.
“Hey, blondie,” Tony greets, his head popping out from behind the flowers. “I got you these.”
He hands them to me and I’m still staring in surprise.
“Aren’t you going to invite me in?”
I shift from the doorway and gesture for him to enter. Once he does, I close the door behind us and follow him as he heads inside the house. It’s not much, just a small two-bedroom home with simple minimalist décor. I try not to think about what he must be thinking as he looks around the house.
I’m still focused on the large bouquet of roses in my hand. They smell great.
But my suspicions are piqued. “No offense, Tony, but you really don’t strike me as the kind of guy to bring a girl flowers.”
He turns to look at me and grins.
“Why would you think that?”
“Because it’s a sweet gesture. And I’m not naïve enough to think you’re sweet.”
“True. I just figured you were the kind of woman that would appreciate flowers. It fits into your aesthetic,” he says waving a hand into the air. “This house though, arguably does not.”
I frown, “What’s wrong with my house?”
“Blondie, it has no color,” he tells me. “Just beige and gray and white. Don’t get me wrong, it’s nice. But really, why no color?”
“It’s called minimalism,” I state. “Look it up.”
I walk away, leaving him in the living room.
