40. Far From Perfect
Jared
Ido not wallow. I never have. Yet, here I am, banging my head against a metaphorical wall as I play that scene with Sophie over and over in my mind.
I fucked up. Bad.
And I’m not sure she’s going to give me the chance to rectify my mistakes. She hasn’t responded to the text I sent yesterday morning, and it’s taken every ounce of my willpower to heed Sam’s advice and give her time. I’ve grabbed my keys three times today, prepared to go to her apartment and beg her to give me a chance to explain and to give me another shot.
A buzzing sound breaks the silence, and I pull my phone from my pocket. Pulling up my security company’s app, I log in and tap on the icon for the surveillance camera and speaker box at the front gate. My breath whooshes from my lungs when Sophie’s beautiful face appears on the screen, her teeth tugging lightly at her bottom lip.
I tap the icon to open the gate, and I see her look toward it and swallow visibly. I tap the screen to turn on the speaker box.
“Please come in.”
She startles, her gaze flying back to the camera. She nods quickly, then pulls forward.
Dropping my phone to the couch, I push myself up and jog to the front door. I step out onto the porch and wait for Sophie to park her car and get out. I fight the urge to run to her. The ball is in her court. I need to let her run this show, even if it doesn’t go the way I want it to. It’s hard for me to give up control like this, but for Sophie, I’ll do anything.
Even give her up, if that’s what will make her happy. I just hope it doesn’t come to that.
When she approaches, I silently step aside and hold out an arm, inviting her into the house. She doesn’t say anything as she passes, but her fruity scent wafts up my nose, making me ache even more than I already am. I miss that scent.
I miss her.
And this might be my only chance to win her back.
I follow her into the living room, and stop several paces from her. She has her back to me, and I can see the tension emanating off her.
“Sophie, I’m so sor––”
“I just saw your mother,” she cuts in, spinning around to face me.
My head rears back. “You did?”
She nods. “I was at dinner with Ava and Zoey, and she was at the restaurant. She came over and asked to speak to me. She…told me about Harrison calling you. And she told me about Victoria.”
I fight it, but I can’t stop the involuntary flinch at her words. I would’ve told her about Victoria, eventually, but everything was so new with us, I didn’t feel like it was the right time to discuss our exes.
“You hurt me,” she says before I can respond.
“I did,” I say simply.
I refuse to make excuses or try to defend myself. There is no excuse. I should’ve trusted Sophie. I should’ve talked to her about Harrison’s claims so she could tell me they held no basis. Then, I should’ve believed her, and we wouldn’t be where we are right now.
“Just because I understand now why you reacted the way you did doesn’t make it okay,” she says, and a glimmer of hope sears through me.
She understands. She’s here. She’s obviously making an effort.
“Nothing can excuse the way I treated you. I let old hurts dictate my thoughts and actions, and for that, I am sorry. My heart told me to trust you, but my head got in the way. I hope to have the chance to make it up to you. To prove I’m better than that. To prove I’ll never hurt you like that again.”
“Like that?” she asks, arching a brow.
“I can’t promise I’ll never hurt you, Sophie. I’m human and far from perfect. But I do promise I’ll never jump to conclusions or think the worst of you. I’ll always talk things through, express my feelings, fears, and doubts, and give you the opportunity to soothe them. I promise to trust you. To trust us.”
Her eyes are glassy with unshed tears, and a small laugh bubbles out of her. “Okay, that was pretty good, as far as apologies go.”
“Does that mean you forgive me?”