Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 123579 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 618(@200wpm)___ 494(@250wpm)___ 412(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 123579 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 618(@200wpm)___ 494(@250wpm)___ 412(@300wpm)
I’m tired of trying.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Trevor
I’ve missed something.
Something vital, and it’s bugging the hell out of me. I am, by nature and by necessity, a meticulous man. I don’t mean that my socks all have their own cubby and all my shit is color sorted and alphabetized. I’m meticulous about the things that really matter. I’m meticulous about people. I observe them. I discern. I intuit. I’m rarely wrong. And if I’m not mistaken, Sofie Baston loves me. I saw it in her eyes our last morning together. It charged every touch, every kiss. I know it the same way I knew she hungered for significance.
Because I recognized it in myself first.
Henri can say we’re not right for each other. Sofie can say it’s too fast or she’s not good enough. Everyone can tell me it will never work. Sinner, saint, whatever. I know my own heart. I always have. It told me I couldn’t spend the rest of my life with Fleur, and it tells me with Sofie, I must. And she feels it, too. I’d bet my life on it.
So why am I reading a caption under a picture of my woman having dinner with that damn quarterback? At Minnow last night? Why did she take me off her list? Why won’t she return my calls? Or texts? Why is she boxing me out when all I want to do is protect her? Why didn’t she tell me about the baby? About the abortion? It grates that she still doesn’t trust me to accept her, flaws and all. I can’t blame her. She’s been rejected, exposed, and disdained in the past. For someone like that, unconditional love and acceptance is a foreign currency she doesn’t know how to exchange. I experienced it from my family and closest friends all my life. I have to remember for Sofie, it’s still a novelty.
But she could have told me.
I drop my head into my hands, elbows on my desk. I shove aside the documents ratifying the transparency measures I proposed for the Collective. I can’t care about anything else right now. I’m no good.
“Long day?” Harold asks from the office door.
“Something like that.” I lean back, composing my face and propping one elbow behind me on the chair.
“Still no word from Sofie?” Harold’s eyes and voice hold caution. He rightfully ascertained that I’m a powder keg set to blow at the least provocation.
“No, and I don’t get it.” I shake my head, meeting my best friend’s eyes. “I know she needs me, but she won’t let me in. Believe me, I nearly got arrested trying.”
“Did you see the latest development?” Harold takes the seat across from me.
“You mean dinner with Rip?” I grit my teeth but manage to speak. “Yeah, I saw. It’s bullshit. There’s an explanation for it.”
“No, not that.” Harold frowns. “You didn’t hear?”
Dread creeps over me like a morning chill.
“What happened?”
“She had a press conference or something earlier today.”
“Yeah, for her new scent, Goddess,” I say quickly. “What about it?”
“Apparently some of Kyle’s supporters, or maybe some protesters, defaced the ad. You can pull up the footage. It’s everywhere.”
I immediately search for the press conference on my laptop. The footage is awful, and Sofie is magnificent. Not just beautiful. It’s what she says and how she stands. I don’t see a woman’s curves and the perfect hair and makeup. I see conviction. I see courage. I see a fighter, and she’s my match. Let anyone try to tell me differently, even Sofie herself.
“She’s pretty badass.” Harold’s eyes and words hold respect.
I glance up, pride in her making me smile, even though she won’t even see me right now.
“Yeah, she is.” I shake my head, but my thoughts don’t settle. It still doesn’t make sense. “I’ve been retracing my steps to see what went wrong. We were fine. We were fantastic, actually.”
We made love that morning. It was perfect. I made omelets. We showered together. We laughed over things that only we would find funny.
“We left her place and came here,” I say aloud, not seeing Harold, but seeing that morning. Seeing Sofie stretched out on my bed upstairs, smiling and tempting me to make love to her again. “She seemed quiet when we rode back to her place, but we were fine. And then when all hell broke loose at her apartment building, it’s like a switch flipped. I don’t know what she’s doing or why she’s doing this to us.”
I lean forward, resting my elbows on my knees, hands hanging between them.
“To me,” I add. “I don’t know why she’s doing this to me.”
“Maybe I do,” Henri says from the door.
I glance up to find her in the spot Harold occupied before he sat down.
“What do you mean?” I demand, tensing. “How would you know why Sofie’s shutting me out?”