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k at any second, like ice. It had always been fire with Henry, passion and heat, making love frantically on the floor of a construction site in a puddle of sunlight. She should have known then what their relationship was. Not real, not love.
Sophie stumbled away from Henry’s penthouse, tears blurring her eyes as she went.
Chapter Sixteen
Her apartment appeared to be under water, but that was just because tears still filled Sophie’s eyes. She didn’t even bother dashing them away anymore. Fresh ones just took their place.
It had all been a fake. A lie. A fling to shove in his ex-girlfriend’s face. Henry Medina didn’t care about her. She paced the confines of her living room, muscles twitchy and restless. Every time she tried to sit down, to calm herself, Nicole’s words came back to her, “a little girl who’s tragic slip-and-fall robbed her of a big Buenos Aires dreams.” She wasn’t sure what hurt more, that Henry had just been using her, or that he’d shared such private things with that viper. Right now, her chest was just a mass of pain.
Her ribs felt as if they’d been dipped in cement, her lungs made of stone. Dragging in each breath was hard and painful. Conversely, her stomach felt full of helium, floating up into her mouth. Bile surged into the back of her throat and she lurched into the bathroom and dropped to her knees before the toilet. But her stomach settled again for the time being. Sophie pressed her forehead against the cool porcelain, sobbing.
She had to get away. If Henry was using her as a pawn in some sort of high stakes game against Nicole then she’d just... take herself off the board. She scrubbed at her cheeks until they were raw, but all traces of her tears were gone. All but the sting of her bloodshot eyes and the wet, spiky lashes. She swallowed each new sob that bubbled into her mouth and blinked rapidly to hold new tears at bay.
Sophie crawled from the bathroom to her bedroom. It was the perfect position to tug the suitcase from beneath her bed. She heaved it onto her mattress. The thing was huge and weighed a ton, even empty. It was a hard case, scuffed and dented, an unfortunate shade of yellow. Sophie had had it ever since she moved out of her parents house and come to New York City the first time, for school.
“Okay,” she murmured into the quiet apartment. “Okay.” She pulled herself to her feet and yanked open her closet doors. She didn’t even really look at the clothes, she just snatched things off hangers and tossed them toward the suitcase. She dragged open her dresser drawers and began lobbing balled up socks onto the bed.
She turned back to the bed and froze. The suitcase, still closed, was heaped with clothing. Several of the socks had bounced off onto her night stand. She hiccuped a small sob. Her brain was so scattered she couldn’t even pack right! Think. She had to think. Whirling, she left the ransacked room and hurried to the living room. Where was her purse?
Sophie found it on the kitchen table, tipped on its side, spilling tissues and change. She stuck her hand inside and tugged her cell phone free of the other detritus. She strode back into the bedroom as Darren picked up. “Hey, Soph. Need more fashion advice for your next media date with Mr. Medina?”
Henry’s name was a knife to the heart. “You need to open the studio in the morning.”
“Oh. Kay. Are you going to be late?” Darren’s words were faltering. Her voice had come out harsher than she’d intended, but her throat was raw from holding in sobs.
“I’m... I’m going away for a few days. But we have to re-open. We can’t afford to stay closed any longer.”
Sophie rubbed at her forehead. She could feel Darren frowning at her over the phone.
“What do you mean you’re ‘going away’? This is not a good time, Soph. We’ve had more cancellations—”
“It doesn’t matter. It’ll die down. We have to open. And I need to be... somewhere else.” Somewhere far enough from Henry Medina that she could get her head on straight. Figure out her next move.
“That’s just it. I had two calls last night from professionals. They both said they heard rumors the ‘relationship’ thing is a cover up. It’s not going away. We might need to scale back on some—”
“Fine. We will. If that’s what you think then... We’ll talk about it when I get back.” She strode into her room and popped the heavy suitcase open, tossing the clothes haphazardly inside.
Darren sighed. “Where are you going? Sophie, talk to me. What’s going on?”
The suitcase wouldn’t latch over the mound of unfolded clothing. Sophie shoved at it, grunting in frustration. Why did everything have to be difficult right now? “I didn’t expect him to tell everything,” she blurted. “Not everything. But she’s his ex. That seems pretty relevant to me. To hear it from her... And he told her! I just... I can’t even deal with that.”
She was babbling. She tried to reign in her tongue but it was running away from her. On the other end of the line, Darren’s chair scraped across the floor.
“Is this about Henry? What happened?” His voice was sharper than she could ever remember it being. She scrubbed at her tear-stained cheeks. Ridiculous. Darren couldn’t see her.
“Nothing. I’m fine. I’m just...” Inspiration struck. “I’m just going to visit my parents for a day or two. That’s all.” The lid of the suitcase finally came down far enough for her to twist the clasp into place. She felt a spurt of triumph at the small victory.
“Soph, honey. You need to talk to me. We can wait on discussing cutting back on classes, if you want. But if something else is going on here, you can tell me.” Darren’s voice was laced with a tinge of genuine anxiety. Sophie’s heart ached with the sound. He was such a good friend. But she just couldn’t talk about it. Not yet. Maybe in a few days.
Henry’s warm voice murmuring “Dolce amore, Dio, che me si bruciano!” echoed through her head. She had no idea what it meant, but the passionate syllables had seared themselves into her brain. Sophie’s heart twanged. Maybe more than a few days.
“It’s fine, Dar. I swear, everything’s fine. We’ll figure this whole thing out in a few days. I promise. I just need to go... now.” Her voice cracked. She cleared her throat. She had to get off the phone quick or she’d burst into tears again and Darren would be over here in the blink of an eye. His gaze would be sympathetic, but the “I told you so” would be lurking in the back of it. And even if it wasn’t, she just couldn’t handle any of it right now.
“Okay, Soph.” It was anything but okay. The words were resigned but heavy with dread. “Call me when you get in.”
“Promise,” she murmured again, and hung up before he could say anything else. She was out the apartment door a minute later with barely a backward glance.
***
