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"Mallory-"
"You're going to the meeting? You’re gonna give her a quote for the tell-all story that ruins your career?" She ignored me, her tone incredulous and packed full of disbelief.
It was impossible for me to keep my hands locked on the wheel with the overwhelming urge to take my little sister by the shoulders and shake some sense into her.
"Give me some credit, Mal." I settled for massaging my temple with my free hand, then turned my focus back to my destination. "I'm not giving her a quote for anything. That's not why I'm going to the meeting."
"Oh, I see. It all makes perfect sense now." Her tone, and the fact that she transformed a one syllable word into four, told me that she didn't get it at all. "You're gonna walk in with some misplaced belief that she's gonna apologize."
"Fuck no," I answered immediately. Too immediately.
"Language!" Mallory scolded.
"I'm not expecting an apology," I growled. I pretended I wasn't repeating it in hopes that repetition would make it more believable. The truth was, I didn’t believe me either.
Rationality told me that my sister was right, and attending this meeting was a mistake. After all, if I was gonna do something idiotic, like meeting with reporters from the most vicious tabloid in town, then going into it with zero expectations, and my game face on, was the way to do it.
But that was the wall I ran into. The expectations wouldn't fade. I wanted an apology. I wanted Sophia to lay at my feet, arms extended until her chest was splayed against the floor and her dark hair spilled in all directions. I wanted tears, lots of them, and somewhere in between the sobs, I wanted an explanation. Then I wanted...I wanted...
A red light brought me to a hard stop and the thing I really wanted screeched in my head. The truth was nearly as annoying as my sister reminding me of something obvious: I owed Sophia nothing.
But that was just it - what I really wanted was Sophia, and that's why I owed her this. I owed myself this. I wanted to give her a chance to explain herself. To prove that everything wasn't a lie.
It couldn't all be a lie.
When I'd stormed from Hush last night with blood in my eyes and rage filling me, I knew that something had changed. I couldn't stop trembling, barely able to get my limbs to cooperate long enough to get off the property—and I knew it had nothing to do with anger. Or rage.
There was an emptiness in my gut; a void that grew with every mile that separated me from Hush. From Sophia.
I'd been running from the truth; scared shitless by the prospect of being vulnerable again. Of having something to lose again.
I was sleepwalking before Sophia. Going through the motions. My loneliness masqueraded as indifference, when I just wanted someone that I couldn't live without. Someone who wouldn't run from my desires. My fear was tangled up in no strings attached, D/s play with submissives that I forgot as soon as the scene ended. I thought I was satiating my needs, but if I was honest, all those nights, I left the building as hollow as I'd walked into it.
I knew now that I had been choosing numbness until Sophia hustled her way into my life. And let's face it - I wanted to be hustled. Like Mary, I had my own suspicions about Sophia's authenticity, but ignored them. I needed to believe the lie because there was something in her eyes that was real. And when I touched her, felt her melt beneath my fingers, felt her body clench and quiver with release, any objections or need to be cautious were irrelevant compared to the bliss of finally waking up.
"I hope you're quiet because you're texting and driving, letting Sin know that you're not gonna make it."
"Only you would hope I'm doing something illegal," I grinned, still pointed in the direction of Melt. I didn't miss the way Mal said 'Sin' like it was something profane. As frustrating as my sister’s heavy handed objections were, I knew they were coming from a place of love and concern.
A crackle and rustling sound flowed from Mal's end and my smile twitched downward into a frown. I'd almost forgotten where my sister was. Was she shifting in those uncomfortable little plastic seats in that cold, dingy waiting room? Was she surrounded by bleary eyed people that had to practically strip down to their underwear to get a few precious moments with their loved ones?
"Don't worry about me, okay?" I said gently. "I'll be just fine."
I knew what I should say next. Mallory was not a girl of few words, but the silence stretched between us. Her expectations, her yearning, reached into my chest and clenched my heart.
I wrenched the words from my mouth like I was pulling teeth. "Tell Mom I said hello."
I ended the call before Mallory could make my last sentence into a bigger deal than it was, and pushed the past from my mind. I couldn't think about my sister, or my mother, or Caity. This was all hands on deck: lights, camera, action.
I drew to a stop at the valet station in front of Melt. I erased everything from my demeanor except business as I tossed the valet my keys and a tip, ignoring the chorus of photographers buzzing on the sidewalk. After I checked in with the stammering hostess, I held my breath as she scanned her list for Peter Rhodes' name. The cowardly, hidden part of me hoped that Sophia would be too ashamed to show her face. We could be cowards together and both languish in regret because every day apart would make it easier to dodge each other. Easier to make excuses for why it all turned out for the best.
"Here they are!" The hostess exhaled with relief, like she'd expected me to bite her head off otherwise.
‘They’.
She was here.
"Right this way, Mr. O'Connell."
