Four Beautiful Letters (Desire Island 4)

Laura eyed her for a long moment, doing that disconcerting thing she did where she peered directly into Sophia’s head. “Whatever you say, chief,” she finally said.

In stage whisper, she added with a sly grin, “Liar, liar, pants on fire.”

~*~

Nick woke energized and excited on Friday morning, despite having had only five hours of sleep. He was still firm in his resolve to make some dramatic changes in his life, and determined to make it happen sooner than later—today if possible.

He looked at his phone in case Sophia had texted him, but the screen was blank. He opened the message app, but then closed it again.

He spent the next ten hours straight on the phone and in meetings, only taking a break when Margery forced him to eat a sandwich and get outside for a few minutes of fresh air. Of course, it would take time to actually seal the deal, but he now had the workings of a positive arrangement that would profit everyone involved. More than that, it would set him free.

He was aware that Sophia closed her shop at six and lived within walking distance of her business. He hadn’t yet been to either her shop or up to her apartment, though he had been outside the building when Samir and he had picked her up.

It was just a little after seven when Samir dropped him at the curb in front of her building. He hadn’t seen Sophia in six days. He hadn’t told her he was coming. He wanted it to be a surprise—hopefully a good surprise.

“I’ll text in a while to let you know if I’ll need you again tonight,” he said to Samir as he gathered up the items he’d purchased. He flashed a grin, adding, “If things go well, I won’t need you until tomorrow.”

He juggled the large shopping bag and flower box into one hand as he punched in the four-digit code Sophia had shared with him that would gain him access into the building. When the buzzer sounded, he shouldered his way into the small, rather shabby lobby, which was deserted.

He walked to the single elevator and pushed the button. He took a step back and waited, bouncing nervously on the balls of his feet.

The elevator wasn’t making any noise and there were no lit numbers indicating movement of any kind. That was when he noticed a placard lying on the floor near the elevator door. It had apparently fallen from where it had been taped, and read: Out of Order in bold printed letters. Beneath it, someone had scrawled in ink, Again.

With a sigh, Nick headed toward the stairwell. He climbed the four flights, gifts in tow. As he neared her floor, his heart picked up its pace, not out of exertion, but excitement. He walked down the narrow hall, past the sound of a baby crying in one apartment, someone playing loud music in another.

When he came to Sophia’s number, he stood outside the door a moment, listening for sound. What if she had someone else in there? He should have called first. Or at the very least, texted. Well, it was too late now. He was here. And if he didn’t see her soon, he would explode.

He pushed the doorbell and heard it ring inside the apartment. He held his breath, listening for the sound of her footsteps. But there were none. After a minute or two, he pushed the bell again, a little more insistently. Still nothing.

He took a step back, pondering what to do. He glanced at his watch. Maybe she had stayed a little late at her shop with a last-minute customer. Or maybe she’d stopped on the way home to pick up dry cleaning or some groceries.

He set down the bag and placed the flower box carefully on top of it. Leaning against the wall, he crossed his arms and settled back to wait.

Ten minutes passed. Then twenty. Nick slid down to the worn carpet and rested his back against the wall, legs extended, his eyes fixed on the stairwell door. After fifteen more minutes had gone by, Nick forced himself to admit that Sophia probably wasn’t coming home any time soon. For all he knew, she had already been to her apartment and gone out again. At this moment, she could be engaged in a hot scene at that club she liked to go to—The Den? Or, she might be out with some other guy. Or worse, at his place, in his bed…

Stop it, he admonished himself. Whatever she was doing, it wasn’t really his business, even though he’d like it to be. He’d agreed with her friends-with-benefits arrangement when she’d proposed it. It had seemed like a good idea at the time.

Now, he could admit, at least to himself, it was the worst idea ever.