“Doesn’t matter. I’ll be there in ten minutes,” he said, sounding a little out of breath, as if he were already running toward her.
“Okay,” she replied. “I’ll leave the door…” She didn’t finish the sentence, realizing he’d already clicked off.
“Curiouser and curiouser,” she murmured as she stood to put the flowers in a vase and the champagne into the fridge.
It occurred to her then—she still didn’t know if his news was good or bad.
Chapter 11
Nick raced up the four flights of stairs, his heart pounding. This was it. This was the moment when things either soared or plummeted between them.
When he got to her apartment, he started to ring the bell but then saw the door was ajar. Giving it a push, he said, “Sophia?”
“Come on in,” she called.
He squeezed down a narrow entrance hall containing a bicycle, a backpack and a pair of sneakers. He stepped into a small but very nicely appointed living room. The roses stood in a blue glass vase on a small, octagon-shaped table beneath a large window. He could see what must be the bedroom through an open doorway.
“Back here,” Sophia said.
Following her voice, he moved toward a rice paper screen. Behind the screen was a tiny kitchen with barely enough space for the top-freezer refrigerator and a two-burner hotplate and microwave set on the single counter. The box of chocolates was on the counter too.
Sophia stood at the sink, her long, curly hair hanging in ringlets down her back. She turned as he stopped in the doorway. She wore a long, colorful tunic, her feet and legs bare. She grabbed a towel to wipe her sudsy hands and held out her arms to him, her face dimpling in a wide smile.
“There’s my prince charming—my bringer of chocolates and champagne, the perfect finish to sausage and onion pizza.”
Laughing, Nick went to her, taking her into his arms and kissing her for a long time. She kissed him back, her hands circling his neck as he held her close.
When they parted, she looked up at him. “I can’t take the mystery another second. What’s all this about?”
“I have good news. Exciting news.”
In spite of this declaration and his firm belief it was true, a stab of anxiety poked at Nick’s gut. He didn’t want to put pressure on Sophia by giving her the impression he’d done this for her. Yes, she’d been the impetus in highlighting the emptiness of a life lived only for work, but he’d done this for himself—for his own sanity.
He noticed the two champagne flutes drying on the rack beside the sink. “How about let’s pop a cork and have a glass?”
Sophia flashed a grin. “You’re determined to make me wait, huh? This is worse than waiting on the sequel after a really good cliff hanger,” she teased. “But, okay. I’m not one to refuse a glass of good champagne.”
He had to step out of the tiny space so she could open the refrigerator door. She took out one of the bottles and handed it to him. Picking up the two glasses, she said, “Let’s walk the three steps from my vast kitchen to my huge living room.”
“I love your place,” he said sincerely, following her to the couch. “It’s got a certain quirky charm.”
“Thanks. I think,” she replied with a chuckle. “As long as you’re not claustrophobic, it’s a great place to live. I love this neighborhood.”
Nick peeled the foil from the cork and untwisted the metal housing that held it in place. Holding the bottle away from her, he popped the cork. He filled the glasses and handed one to Sophia.
She lifted it in a toast. “To friends with seriously excellent benefits,” she said, her eyes twinkling.
They clinked glasses and sipped. Nick drew in a breath, ready at last to fully speak his mind. “That’s the thing,” he said, turning toward her on the sofa. “I don’t want that. Not anymore.”
“You don’t want the benefits? Or to be friends?” she replied, that impish grin again on her face.
He set down his glass and took hers, too, gently from her hand. “Sophia,” he said. “I’ve sold my business.”
She looked at him a moment without appearing to comprehend. “What?”
“The real estate development business. The deal isn’t quite final, but I’ve got several buyers very interested and I’m definitely moving forward with this.”
“Okay,” she said slowly. “That’s good, I guess?” She made the sentence a question.
“It’s very good,” he said emphatically. “It’s what I want. I’m done working 24/7. I want more in my life.”
Nick waited for more of a reaction. While he hadn’t necessarily expected her to leap to her feet and squeal with excitement, he’d hoped for more than her somewhat bemused response.
He leaned toward her, speaking from his heart. “I didn’t do this for you, Sophia, if that’s what’s freaking you out. I did it for me. Meeting you—connecting with you—has made me reexamine my priorities. I’ve come to realize that my life has basically been one non-stop workday. I’m never not working. And for what? I have plenty of money. All the money I need and then some. I have my BDSM clubs, and I have plans to develop more. But, for the first time in my life, I want more than just work.” He took a breath, and then said the real thing—the main thing. “I want you.”