Sophia

 

 

I admit that I want him to work for it, even if it's just a little bit. I was tempted to give in when Nicholas was kissing me. My body was screaming at me to let him inch his fingers up the skirt of my dress so he could feel my arousal, but I stopped it. I had to. If I would have slept with him last night, I doubt I'd be sitting at my desk now staring at the dozen light violet roses that were delivered this morning.

I knew instantly that they were from him. I didn't even have to open the card that was attached to the bouquet, but I did.

Thank you for last night, Sophia.  Nicholas. xx

"Those are beautiful." Gabriel stops at my desk on his way into his office. "Would it be out of line if I asked if those were from Nicholas Wolf?"

It wouldn't be. Our relationship has slowly morphed from being strictly business to having faint touches of friendship woven into it. It's the main reason I agreed to go to the book signing when Isla, Gabriel's wife, asked me to. She told me that she planned to go herself but Gabriel's brothers Caleb and Asher decided to throw him a pre-birthday surprise dinner party. She had to be there, so I ventured out to the signing in her place.

I may have to thank her for that since that's the night I met Nicholas.

"They're from him." I tuck the card into my palm to shield the words from Gabriel's view.

He bends down to smell one of the perfectly symmetrical blossoms. "He has excellent taste in flowers and women."

The compliment is unexpected and I fumble in my mind with what to say in response. "Thank you, sir."

"Tomorrow is the last Friday of the month, Sophia." He stands upright, his left hand reaching to adjust the lapel of his jacket. "That means you can leave at noon for the weekend."

I've kept a close eye on the calendar and on Mr. Foster to see if he'd remember the promise he made. "Thank you again. It's with pay, right?"

"That it is."

I nod as he turns to walk back toward his office. When he's completely out of view, I fish my phone from the purse hanging on the coatrack near my desk. I open it and scroll through my contact list until I land on his name. Then I type out a quick text message.

The flowers are beautiful, Nicholas. Thank you.

I reach to drop my phone back into my purse when I hear the faint chime that signals a new message.

They pale in comparison to you. (Cheesy, I know.) Do you want to play the piano tomorrow? Say at seven?

I bite my bottom lip while I consider the invitation. I told him I wanted him to chase me and he is but if I walk back into that apartment so soon, I know I'll end up beneath him in his bed. Besides, I do have somewhere I need to be tomorrow night.

I type back a response, keeping one eye on the open door of Mr. Foster's office.

I have plans tomorrow. Maybe one night next week?

A boulder forms in my stomach as I watch the three dots jump as he types.

Next week it is. I'll be in touch.

I stare at the screen, reading the message twice. I expected him to suggest another day when I turned him down, but he didn't. I shrug it off, toss my phone back in my purse and get to work emailing all Foster executives about the board meeting next Tuesday.

 

***

 

When I open the door to my apartment the next afternoon, I'm surprised to find not only my best friend standing behind the stove but a stack of bridal magazines on the counter next to her.

"Den?" I say her name loud enough that she'll hear me over the buzz of the exhaust fan that is on its highest setting. "What are you doing here?"

It's a question I always hate asking when she shows up unexpectedly. She owns this two bedroom apartment outright so I can't exactly ask for her keys back. I appreciate the company on most days, but today I had a clear plan in place. I want to finish the white maternity dress I started last week before I need to leave at seven o'clock. I had every intention of dropping by Den's place tomorrow to give it to her and get her to model it for me so I can upload images of it to my website.

"This is your first official, Friday afternoon off, so I'm here to celebrate." She waves her hand through the smoke that's billowing off the two pieces of salmon she has on the indoor grill. "We're having salmon with that grainy mustard sauce you love and a sauerkraut salad with a mayonnaise dressing."

I cringe inwardly. The salmon sounds delectable. The sauerkraut salad seems more like a weird pregnancy craving than something I'd want to voluntarily eat.

"You didn't have to do this," I say gently. "I'm not that hungry."

I'm famished. I skipped breakfast entirely because I was hand sewing pearls on the white dress right after I woke up. I picked up a small coffee at the bodega on the corner but ended up tossing it in a trash can before I stepped on the bus. It was bitter and obviously left over from yesterday.

"I'm starving." She rubs her stomach. "Firi is a food fiend. My boy is always hungry."

I feel tears instantly well in my eyes. "Is that the baby's name?"

The fork that was in her hand drops to the counter before it bounces to the floor. "Tyler wants to name him after my dad. I love it, Soph. He'll be little Firi Monroe."

I love it too. Cadence has worked hard for the past year to bridge the emotional gap that developed between her and her dad, Sergio Firi. She may have followed in his footsteps when she became a chef, but that didn't cement their relationship. They were estranged for years and now, finally, they've found their way back to each other.

"It's perfect, Den." I wipe my eyes with the back of my hand. "He's going to be the most amazing little boy in the world."

"You and I both know it." She smiles proudly. "I can't wait for him to get here. I want you there, Soph. I'm going to need you with Tyler and me in the delivery room when he's born."

I reach to grab hold of her forearm to steady myself. The rush of emotions I feel barrels through me like a freight train. "I'll be there. I wouldn't miss that for the world."

"Good." She brushes her lips across my forehead. "I want you to kick off your shoes, change out of your work clothes and get ready for a meal you'll never forget."

I turn to race to my bathroom where I keep the antacid in the medicine cabinet. I might as well nip the indigestion I know is coming in the bud.