We walk down the stairs, side by side, and I use this opportunity to rest my hand on her back. I expect her to walk a bit faster or move the side, but she does the exact opposite and moves slightly closer to me. When we get to my Wrangler, I set my stupid coffee down and open the door for her, watching as she climbs in like a pro.
“I want one of these,” she says when I get in.
“I have to say, it’s one of my favorite purchases. I’ll let you drive it sometime.” This is saying a lot because I refuse to let my own sister anywhere near my car.
As soon as I pull out of the parking lot, I turn toward my new house. “Wait,” she says. “I thought we had to get boxes from your parents.”
I point toward the back and she turns. Her hand goes to her face. All of my boxes are there. “I’m such an idiot. I never pay attention to my surroundings.”
“That’s not good,” I laugh.
She shakes her head. “It’s not. I’ve been so caught up with the drama in my life, I’m not focused on what’s around me. It’s dangerous. The other day, I walked into my office, right past a patient and never said good morning or hi, which is incredibly rude of me.”
I have no idea what spurs me to do this, but I take her hand and bring it to my lips. “I’m declaring this a drama free zone. You have nothing to worry about with me, I’ll protect you.” Sophie keeps her hand in mine, even after I set it down on my lap.
When I moved back home, I never thought the person sitting beside me, helping me move, would be Sophie Peterson. As happy as I am, I’m torn. I’d love to make her my fuck buddy, my stress reliever, but she’s so much more than either of those things. She’s a relationship. The woman you bring home to mom, even though my mother knows her already. Sophie is the woman you schedule lunches with, the one you have flowers delivered to because she washed and folded your laundry. She’s the one you wife up because you’ve been in love with her from the first moment you laid eyes on her. Yet, a relationship is the last thing I need right now. Starting a new position, with new to me employees is going to be stressful. Add a relationship into the mix and one of the two is going to suffer, and it can’t be my job. But the joke’s on me because I want to be with the woman sitting next to me.
Every so often, I glance at Sophie. Her eyes are hidden behind her sunglasses and her face is titled toward the sun. You would think, after living in a place where it’s mostly sunny, you’d get tired of it, but there’s something about driving down the road, with the top down and having the sun shining on you. It’s refreshing, invigorating.
I turn down another road, and another, to where the trees are taller, and the sun isn’t beating down on us so much. “Wow, the trees really make a difference. The temperature has dropped considerably.” She rubs her arms against the chill.
“We are almost there,” I tell her. I signal to turn even though no one is behind us and drive down a dirt path. My driveway is scheduled for paving next week as long as we don’t get a rainstorm or anything. The moving truck is already there, backed up to the garage and I can see workers moving around. As soon as I park, my hand is on the door handle. “What do you want to see first?”
Her eyes widen. “Your house, definitely.”
We get out and I motion for her to follow me to the front door. I want her to get the full experience of seeing the inside of my home for the first time. What Sophie doesn’t know is I’ve already been here this morning to meet the movers. I didn’t want my meeting with them to interrupt my time with her.
I point toward the yard. “The landscaping isn’t finished yet, but this part of the driveway will have a circular brick layout, with trees and shrubs blocking the view from the road.” I open the door and step in first because I want to see her expression.
“Wow,” she says as she looks around. We’re in the entry way, where the staircase leading to the second floor is. The walls are an off white, with white wainscoting and black cherry flooring. She looks up at the ceiling. “That chandelier is amazing.”
“My interior designer found it at a flea market,” I tell her. “It’s an old bird cage.”
Sophie starts to look around and turns to me. “This is not what I expected at all.”