The phone stops ringing, th
en starts again almost immediately, I pull it out of my bag, thinking of switching it off, but when I see David’s name flashing on the screen, I give in and answer the call.
“Sophie.” I hear him breathe. “Where are you?” He says, with something like relief in his voice.
I swallow the lump in my throat. “I’m at work.”
“You could have let me know you were leaving.”
“Like you did before you left?” I retort sarcastically.
For a long moment, he doesn’t say anything. “I had something to attend to.” He says finally.
“You always do.” I reply.
He sighs, “Look Sophie, I need to see you.”
I shake my head. “Please David, there’s nothing more…”
“I’m on my way,” he continues, interrupting me.
“Don’t come here.” I protest.
At first, he doesn’t reply, but when he does, his voice is firm and determined. “Try and stop me.” he says, before he cuts the connection.
I consider leaving before David arrives. I still feel too raw to talk to him. How do I tell him that I’ve had enough, that we’re over, when I feel like any moment I’ll shatter into a million tiny pieces.
He must have been driving really fast, because in less than thirty minutes, I see a black car I don’t recognize park on the sidewalk in front of the store, and the next moment, David is striding through the doors.
I expected him to be dressed for work, but he’s wearing casual clothes, jeans, a white shirt, and a black jacket. For a second, I allow myself to be distracted by how beautiful he is. From his perfectly sensual face to his athletic body and long, long legs.
This is the man I love, I realize. This is the man I’ll always love.
“Can we talk?” he asks, gesturing towards the door to Jan and Larry’s office.
Can I refuse? I wonder. If I say no, would he walk out of the door and out of my life? I don’t think so.
I nod.
“About this morning...”
There’s something about the sound of his voice. The tenderness is pulling at my heart, and suddenly I can’t bear it anymore.
“Don’t tell me.” I say, stopping him, “Please David. This morning I...” I swallow as my voice catches in my throat. “Nothing has changed David. I’m always going to be the girl who loves you even though she shouldn’t, and you’re always going to be that man to whom love means nothing.”
“Sophie…”
“No wait.” I continue. “I spoke to your mother this morning.”
His body stiffens and a shuttered expression comes over his face. “What?”
“I bumped into her when I was leaving this morning,” I tell him, “and she asked me to join her for breakfast so we could talk.”
“And what did she have to say?” He asks coolly, his tone betraying that whatever his mother has to say means little to him.
“She explained that she may have hurt you by putting your stepfather’s needs ahead of yours.” I say. “I think she was trying to say that she hurt you then, and that you’re still hurting because of that.”
He snorts bitterly. “Is that what she said?” He laughs harshly. “Well beneath those pretty words Sophie, the truth is this. I never got along with my stepfather. He hated me from the first, and I grew to hate him too. He mocked me, belittled me, and verbally abused me any chance he got. But my mother never saw that, all she wanted was to be his wife, to travel the world with him and attend parties, play the socialite.