And good God, do I want all of her.
But I think better of it because that’s the kind of thing a boyfriend would do, and we both agreed not to complicate this. We even shook on it …
Rolling to my side, I shut down my urges with a massive dose of self-control. But an hour later, I’m wide awake, replaying tonight in my head. And in the middle of the night, I turn to watch her sleep, utterly absorbed by the one woman who can never be mine.
Thirty-Three
Sophie
Past
My morning started with two pink lines and ended with me walking out of Planned Parenthood with a sonogram tucked into my purse.
I don’t understand how this happened. I’ve been on the pill for years. And I don’t know how Nolan will react. We’ve never discussed what we’d do if something like this happened. I’ve been feeling tired and nauseous lately, chalking it up to stress. Between studying for mid-terms and running from school to Nolan’s hotel and back, I hadn’t had a chance to sit still in months. But when I finally looked at the calendar, it hit me…no period in eight weeks.
I sit in my car, tears streaming down my face as I call him.
“Hey, Soph.” He answers after the first ring.
I try to speak, but my lungs gasp for air as I hold back tears.
“Soph? You there?” he asks.
“Yeah.” My voice is a breathy whisper.
“What’s wrong? What’s going on?”
I wanted to tell him in person tonight, but that’s three hours from now, and I don’t want to sit with this for any longer than I have to.
“I’m pregnant,” I say.
His lack of a reaction makes me think of my mother, which only makes me want to cry more. She’s going to be beyond disappointed in me. Not to mention, she’s already got her hands full caring for Emmeline. Add a crying newborn to the mix …
“All right,” he finally speaks. “I’m in and out of meetings the rest of the afternoon, but we’ll talk about this tonight, okay? Don’t … don’t cry. Don’t get upset. We’ll figure this out.”
We end the call, and I check my reflection in the visor. There’ll be no hiding these bloodshot eyes or this puffy face. I can’t go home looking like this.
I drive around until I find an abandoned parking lot, and I have a good cry.
Nolan said we’d figure it out together.
I have to trust that he’ll know what to do, that he’ll have our best interests at heart—all three of them.
Thirty-Four
Sophie
Present
I wake naked, with a satisfied ache between my legs.
The bathroom door is ajar and fog leaks into the bedroom as Trey showers.
The water stops, and a minute later Trey steps out, white towel wrapped low around his hips. His abs glisten, still damp, and droplets of water form rivulets down his shoulders. The scent of soap and cedar fills the air, and when his gaze meets mine, he smiles—dimples and all.
My heart trips over itself, but I quickly remember last night, how quickly everything happened, how my inhibitions flew out the balcony windows, thanks to a few too many celebratory drinks and a pact made in good faith.
Tucking the sheets around me, I try not to make it obvious that I’m checking him out as I replay last night in my head. I can practically feel his feathered, frenzied strokes against my sex. In fact, my recollection is so vivid I almost come just thinking about it …
“Sleep well?” he asks.
I nod. “Haven’t slept that hard in a long time …”
The last man to go down on me had no idea where my clit was and jammed his fingers into me with a haphazard rhythm, like he’d dropped something in my cervix and was trying to fish it out. When I suggested we move onto fucking, he fished an old condom from his wallet and pounded me jackhammer style until he came five minutes later. The guy before him couldn’t get hard, and when he finally did, he used porno moves the whole time. Of course, there’ve been guys who have been too good, which has its own implications. But none of those experiences have come close to the way I felt last night.
It was more than physical, it was liberating.
I’ve never been so at ease with a man, like there was zero pressure to be anything but myself.
Earlier in the day, I promised myself a fun evening. And for some inexplicable reason, there’s something about Trey’s presence that makes me feel safe. His honesty, perhaps? The fact that we’re on the same page? His peculiar interest in getting to know me?
The man shatters my expectations on a daily basis. Sometimes it’s the little things, sometimes it isn’t.
At dinner last night, he didn’t take his eyes off me once. Not to check out the gorgeous brunette who sauntered by our table. Not to peruse the menu (he already knew what he wanted). He studied me with an intensity in his gaze unlike anything I’ve ever felt before. And in the car on the way home, our fingers brushed, causing a hitch in my breath because I almost thought he was going to hold my hand—and I almost thought about letting him.