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“No,” he said, his tone brooking no argument. “There is nothing broken in you, Sophie. And certainly nothing that makes you unlovable.”
“I’m a horrible person,” I sobbed against his chest.
His big hand cradled the back of my head. “You are not a horrible person. You did something incredibly difficult, taking on my life when I was at my lowest. You may have thought about leaving, but you didn’t. That’s what makes you different. That’s what makes you not like him at all.”
“But I ruined Holli’s life.” I sniffled. “You said Deja would never work in New York again. They’re totally fucked. They’re getting married.”
“It wasn’t my finest moment,” he admitted. “I was hurt. I like Deja, and I like Holli. I felt rather personally betrayed, and I lashed out. But I have no intention to pursue any kind of retribution.”
“Great. So Holli hates me for no reason.” I looked up at him. “Well. Almost no reason. I still ruined her life.”
“Deja lost her job because she endangered it. Not you.” He brushed a tear from my cheek with his thumb. “If you had come home, and you hadn’t told me, how would you feel right now?”
I shrugged. “I would feel normal. Keeping important stuff from the people I love is pretty much normal for me.”
“And when it all came to light, when your guilt was too much to bear and you told me… How would you feel then?”
“I would feel…pretty much exactly like I do now.” Damn. I hated when his logic and reason gave me a reason not to hate myself. “But worse, because I kept it from you for so long.”
“You were put in a situation where you were damned no matter what. And that isn’t fair, but as I’m sure you are already aware, life is very rarely fair.” He stepped back. “Let me go get you a cold cloth for your face. Otherwise, you’ll complain all night about your puffy eyes.”
His gentle teasing made me laugh despite the sadness I still felt. As he left the room, I dropped onto the end of the bed. I was worn out and achy. There was a marked difference between a good cry, the kind you cry to relieve emotional pressure, and this kind of cry. This kind just condensed the pressure, made it heavier and sharper in my chest and behind my forehead, and worst of all, made room for more.
Neil came back and dropped a cool washcloth into my hands.
I pressed it gratefully to my hot eyes. “Thank you.”
“I hesitate to suggest it, because I fear it might bring on a wave of fresh tears,” he began. “But I know that when you’re
upset, you turn to Holli, and the comfort of those horrible low-brow comedies you two inexplicably enjoy.”
A laugh burbled up my throat.
He went on. “I know I make a poor substitute, but if you would allow me to interview for the position—”
“Yes, I will watch stupid movies with you,” I agreed, and for a moment, I felt some of my sadness lift. Not too far off the ground, though. “Hey. In the interest of honesty… I am still really bothered that you told Deja she wasn’t going to work in New York again. I know what that feels like. It doesn’t feel good.”
He winced. “Yes, I know. I won’t actively try to block future employment. I’ll give her a decent enough reference, something about her position not fitting into the restructure. Vague enough that I don’t have to lie, nor condemn her.”
“Good.” I reached for his hand and squeezed it. “Good.”
A silent moment passed between us, him studying my face with an expression I couldn’t quite discern. Then he said, “I didn’t realize the loss of your job still affects you so much. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I guess until I saw it happen to someone else…” There was really nothing left to say.
He looked properly ashamed. “I thought that since you had your book deal—”
“It’s a memoir. If I had been a creative writing major, maybe I could be happy just writing memoir after memoir. But let’s face it, the only reason anyone is interested in my life is because I’m with you.” I’d accepted that from the moment the manuscript had gone to auction. “This wasn’t how I imagined my career. I wanted to work in fashion. I invested so much of my time… Baby, I took a dog to a yoga class for pets, all so someday, I would have a good job at a top magazine.
“I worked so hard, and it’s all gone. And I can’t help but see the parallels between my situation and Deja’s. The only difference is: Deja doesn’t have a billionaire to come home to. She has a model. And Holli is one of the hardest working models I know, but that’s not a lot of money. You know that, you’ve seen Porteras’s fashion budget.”
“I have.” He took a deep breath and braced his hands on his knees. “I had no idea how much this bothered you. I am…deeply sorry.”
“Well, it’s not entirely your fault. I did screw up. And I screwed things up with Gabriella Winters. That alone should guarantee that my job prospects in the industry will be few.” I managed a tremulous smile. “But I did right, turning her down. I don’t want anyone to own me. And I didn’t want to lose you.”
He had an epiphany. I could see it on his face. Slowly, he raised his hand, one index finger pointed at the middle distance. “Wait right here.”
“Where are you going?” I asked, but the only response I got was “Wait there.”
