by Trixie More
"You know her father," she began, hoping Sophia would figure it out, so she didn't have to say the words.
Sophia tipped her head, and then her eyes widened; shock and sorrow filled her expression and something close to horror.
I am, I'm going to hell, Marley thought.
"The red in her hair..." Sophia whispered.
"Hey! Look who's here. Two beautiful women!"
Of all the rotten timing, he would have to walk in. Marley's pulse leaped, and she felt both woman and traitor. Karito was already back again, wrapping an arm around Ben's leg and hugging him sideways, laying her head against his thigh. Marley smiled at them, and then looked back to Sophia.
Oh God, Sophia was staring at Karito, pain etched across her face. She turned her wide brown eyes toward Marley, and the joy that had ignited inside her fizzled out and died. She couldn't do this, she'd hurt Sophia, but why? Sophia didn't want to stay with Ben.
Marley wanted to finish, to say the words—make sure there was no misunderstanding, but now she couldn't because he was here.
"Sophia, my God, who did this to your face?" Ben asked. He was moving into the room, coming to Sophia's bedside, his rough hand resting absently on Karito's head, her daughter sucking soda through a straw, two more cans tucked in the crook of her left arm, her right hand still resting on Ben's hip.
"I fell down the stairs," Sophia said and chuckled a little. "Actually, my last performance review didn't go so well."
"Not funny, Soph," he said. God, he was so handsome and so kind. Marley felt the jealousy burning in her. She wanted him, and he belonged to her. To her, and to Karito. This woman, she didn't want him. Marley did. She wanted to just jump up and say it. He's mine. She folded her hands in her lap and forced herself to wait.
"Where else are you hurt? Anything broken?" Ben was staring at Sophia intently, but his hand, oh that masculine hand, with its blunt fingers, stroked over Karito's hair.
"I've got bruises all over, but my face is the worst," she said.
The hand left her daughter and brushed gently through Sophia's hair. "How did this happen?"
Sophia told her story again, and while they listened, Ben pulled a chair to his side of the bed. Karito climbed in his lap. When Sophia got to the part about Doug following her, Marley watched the man she loved. His lips compressed, his eyes became hard. What was he thinking? Then came the part that surprised Sophia and Ben but that Marley could have told them both. Doug, blinded and wounded, coming down the stairs, calling to Sophia, risking everything to strike at Jacob.
Marley was sure in her bones Doug must have been praying to God to guide the table leg, to hit the right person, but it didn't surprise her that he'd done this. Hadn't Doug done the same for Marley? Hadn't he done the same to build up a business from nothing? The man wasn't some rich-rich person like Sophia, like Derrick, born with money and opportunity. Marley could tell by the way Doug spoke, the way he carried himself. He had to take everything he had. Of course, he would fight, even blind and injured. It would have been strange if he'd run. Marley flung one leg over the other and glared at Ben.
"Of course, Doug would fight for you! Of course," Marley said.
Now Ben was looking at her, his blue eyes staring straight into her, and she could feel it, that jolt, that desire. Marley wanted to bury her hands into his hair and pull it, she wanted to straddle his lap and ride him. She wanted to pull him into her family and make him take his rightful place.
Sophia was looking between the two of them, confused. "Marley knows him a little."
Ben flicked a glance at Sophia and then back at Marley. "That true?" His voice was a growl.
Oh my God, Marley thought, and her heart soared. He wanted her.
"Well, I think he used to come into Mastrelo's," Sophia said.
Ben kept staring at Marley, and suddenly it was too much. Sophia was her friend, Ben hadn't wanted anything to do with her or Karito all these years, and these two needed to finish whatever it was they were doing. Marley stood abruptly.
"Yes. He always tipped very well," Marley said. "Come, Karito, let Sophie get her rest." Her greatest love let go of Ben's hand.
"Kiss, Sophie." Marley gave Sophie's cheek a kiss. "Get better soon, we will see her at the restaurant soon, right, Karito?" Her daughter smiled and nodded, and then they were free, briskly moving to the elevators and out into the familiar world where she didn't steal her friend's man.
Ben watched as Marley fled the room, taking Karito with her. It was the second time she’d run from him. The last time, she’d left him in his apartment, drunk as a skunk. Not so drunk that he didn’t know what they’d talked about. He’d told her he was done with Sophia, and he’d meant it. If what Sophia had said was true, she was done with him, because she was still talking to that bastard Lloyd.
Something else was wrong. Ben had known Sophia for a long time, and he could tell. So, even though he wanted to go chase down Marley and pick up Karito and take the two of them to breakfast or the zoo or whatever it was they liked to do, he stayed in his chair.
“Soph, what’s up?”
She prevaricated, of course. She could never just be straightforward with her sorry self. The woman was too smart for her own good. She out thought herself and wound up making everything a puzzle. Now that he’d had some time away from her, he could see it, and he could see that Marley was the exact opposite of that. He couldn’t wait to go find her.
“Nothing. It’s nothing,” Sophia said.
“Cut the line, Soph.” Ben took one of her hands. He needed to say this wholeheartedly to her and, even though she was injured and in a hospital, it was essential things were clear. “You’re never coming back to me, are you?” he asked.
Her head jerked up, and she looked at him with wide eyes. He almost laughed at the fear and frozen stillness in her eyes.
“I know you’re bad at this shit, Soph, so let me help you.” He rubbed his thumb over hers. “I’m not waiting for you to return.”
She glanced away.
“I’m okay with that, Soph, are you?” She turned and looked at him, and his ego took a hit at the relief in her expression. He didn’t want her back, but he didn’t want to know he’d been a pity-fuck for the last year. But then again, he already did know it. “It’s over, Sophia.”
She nodded. “It is.”
“I’m not happy about how it went down, but I did most of my grieving while we were together,” he said.
She had the grace to look ashamed. Deep down, that shame of hers had been what kept her with him too long. That and his hope.
“I’m sorry, Ben,” she said.
“I know,” he said. “Me too.”
He took a breath. “You’re going to take your things once you recover from all of this?”
“Nice, Ben,” she said. For a minute, it seemed she would fight, but then she just sighed.
“Is any of this what’s bothering you?” He already knew that it wasn’t. Getting things right between them had never been her first priority.
“I was thinking about Karito.”
That surprised him. “What about her?”
“Marley was just about to tell me who her father is when you came in.”
That had all his attention. Who was the father? He wasn’t sure he wanted to know. There was a small part of him that just wanted to pretend if things with Marley worked out, Karito would just come along and he’d be an instant father. No other man to worry about, a good head start on the life and family he’d wanted so badly.
“Who is it?”
“She didn’t say,” Sophia replied, her face sad. “But she told me I know the man and...”
“And?”
“And all that red in her hair got me thinking, that’s all.”
That’s all? Why was the red—oh shit.
“Not that fucker!” Ben said.
“I don’t know,” said Sophia.
“So you’re looking all sad because you feel bad for me because that idiot Lloyd
could be the father?”
Sophia frowned.
Oh shit, Ben thought. Well, the cat was out of the bag now.
“Why would that bother you?”
“Shit, Soph,” he stood and pushed his hands over his skull. “I want to start seeing Marley.”
“You and Marley?” Sophia pushed herself up, sitting straighter in the bed. “You and Marley?”
“You’re going to find out sometime,” he said.
“Is she even interested in you?”
Oh, the ways this woman took him down peg after peg. No fuckin’ wonder he’d been miserable.
“I’d like to think I’m man enough that some women, who are not you, will want me!”
Sophia raised her eyebrows. “Yes, of course. I just, I never thought of you together.”
“We hooked up once years ago. So yes, I think she might be interested.”
“Wow,” Sophia said.
He flung his hands down. “I, well, we’re going to have to be all right with this—’cause you’re going to be at Mastrelo’s, and Marley works next door, and there’s a fuckin’ door in the kitchen that joins the two businesses, so we’re going to see each other.”
Sophia tipped her head, a small, mean smile on her face—her lawyer smile—her gotcha smile.
“What if I’m with Doug Lloyd?”
“What?” Ben felt his heart rate rise instantly. If the man had been standing there, he’d have punched him straight out.
“You heard me. How are we going to handle this if I’m in Mastrelo’s with Doug, and Dot’s over at Allison’s with Ed, and Marley and you are playing pool?”
For a minute, Ben wondered if she’d known about the night he’d played pool with Marley. Couldn’t be. Just a lucky guess, but it was enough to bring up a touch of guilt because he’d been attracted to Marley for a long time now if he admitted it. That brought him back to reality. Their friends were all connected.
“It’s going to have to be,” Ben said. “But I don’t expect that Ed and Dot are going to agree.”
Chapter 23
The sun was brilliant. The air had a physicalness to it, cold enough to be felt as it entered Doug’s lungs. He was in his trial suit again, chained again. The officer with him waited next to his obligatory wheelchair, which the hospital volunteer had parked outside the entrance. Sophia was standing next to him, one cool hand on his shoulder, her nails restored to their standard subdued shade, but her ivory coat and boots were missing. For today, she made do with a thick, cowl-neck sweater in a soft off-white. He placed his right hand over hers, a few inches higher than if he’d put his hand on his heart. Maybe he had because he couldn’t imagine how he was going to be whole without her.
They were headed back to court, to present what evidence they had that he didn’t belong in jail. At least this time, he was starting his journey from a hospital bed rather than a cell. William was waiting in his car, just across the street. Doug’s left eye remained useless. From looking in the mirror, he could tell that it at least looked semi-normal, not quite tracking correctly with the right eye. The sight in the right eye was still very blurry, but his brain had sustained a direct hit, bouncing around inside his skull—resulting in sensitivity to light and mild nausea if he turned too quickly. All of that meant he could tell the car that had pulled to the curb was a black and white, but not much more.
“I’ll see you over there,” Doug said to her. He stood and turned to look past Sophia to Tommy. “You too,” he said. He hesitated. Tommy seemed off today, his movements slow, his face sullen and sallow. Doug had to remind himself that all this was hard on Tommy too.
“You’re riding with William?” Doug asked.
Sophia nodded.
Doug shuffled to the rear door of the vehicle. The cop opened the door for him and didn’t do the head-pat thing, and Doug was appreciative of that too.
“Thanks,” he said. Then they were off.
Funny how different it was this time. No sweating, no nerves. Doug could very well be headed back to jail today. He’d violated his bail agreement by heading into New Jersey, he’d killed a man while he was there—a man who was in law enforcement. They had very little evidence at this time. Sophia’s coat, her phone, her boot—all remained in police custody.
He did have her testimony to corroborate his account, and she had recovered her photos and texts onto her new phone, so there was one clear shot of Jacob, reaching into the freezer, cleaning supplies at his feet. Another thing in his favor turned out to be the wad of hair, curled in Jacob Park’s dead fist. The nickel-sized rope of Sophia’s hair had been twisted in his fingers and clutched inside his fist when Doug had hit him on the head. Those strands were still in his fist, and no one could doubt that she’d had such a chunk ripped out of her scalp. The idea made Doug angry, even though it was long over, and Jacob was dead. He hoped nobody wanted him to express regret.
His breath filled his lungs, in and out, a sense of deep calm, replacing the anger. If he was going to jail, this time it was for a reason he didn’t regret. He’d do it all again.
The police brought him into the courtroom, William met him and gave him a stoic grimace. The mild lighting in here made Doug squint. His brain was tired from the sunlight and colors of the car ride. There she was, regal even with the purple staining she said was fading around her eye and across her nose. She wore her hair differently now, parted on the side to cover the missing patch. The oval of her face turned toward him, and the sweep of her mouth curved. His chest felt tight, a slight warning to control his emotions. She was shrouded in a soft haze; he couldn’t focus in on her eyes, couldn’t see that raw, intelligent glitter in their dark chocolate gaze, and that was his only regret.
Tommy watched in horror as Doug approached the bench, the judge asking to speak directly to him. The man’s face was severe and sympathetic, and Tommy knew this wasn’t going to go down the way he needed it to.
The whole thing, setting the bomb, realizing Doug was the man coming through the door, hiding behind the detached garage, unable to find the courage to go back and save Doug, unable to run until finally, the blast hit and pieces were raining down around him. Tommy had been sobbing while he ran to the car, sure that he’d beaten and killed the love of his life.
Now, this. The experience had somehow formed a bond between Doug and Sophia Moss. Meanwhile, Camisa was breathing down Tommy’s neck to separate them. He needed Doug to go back to jail, as ironic as it was.
Doug’s trademark red hair was longer now; no haircuts in the hospital, Tommy supposed. That just made it worse, because he looked more like his Doug, the Doug who’d been a clean-cut high school loner, the Doug who’d kept his looks conservative to blend in with Wall Street and with the investors they’d built a business around. That Doug was the one Tommy missed when the lights went out in his apartment. That was the Doug he’d finally started looking for in other men while this Doug, the criminal who got so broke up over a woman that he lost his shit and put a girl in a trunk, was rotting in jail.
Anger reared up inside him. There was no joy in cruising gay bars this late in the game. It made Tommy feel old, out of shape, out of step. He had no real longing for casual hookups, and he’d been driven into a lifestyle he didn’t want by him. The wasted years hung on him like a damp coat.
Tommy looked away. There were no windows in this courtroom. Reporters filled the back row, taking notes, old-school style. The hallway outside was a different story. The four of them had braved the media and the questions on their way in. Things had gone so wrong, it almost didn’t bother him that Doug insisted Sophia be braced by them with William in front, as if she was the one on trial.
Tommy glanced at her. Sophia was a nice-looking person objectively speaking. Tall, glossy hair, and an air of cool elegance that just rubbed Tommy the wrong way. He liked women who had a friendly, casual way about them. None of that was her. Sophia felt him looking and glanced at him, giving him that faint smile that didn’t reach her eyes, sort of like
she smelled something bad. What the hell did Doug see in her? She shared some of Janice’s physical characteristics, the height, the dark hair, but Janice’s hair had been black and she’d carried herself like an over-priced, low class slut—like a reality show star. Tommy had been surprised, more than surprised, that Doug had kept Janice around as long as he had. It wasn’t until Sophia showed up that Tommy lost all hope. She was substantive, and Tommy had to admit that Doug was never going to choose him over her.
In some ways, he was glad he’d blinded the bastard.
In the overhead fluorescent lights, Doug looked exhausted, his freckles standing out on his pale face, the red in his hair dull. Tommy still found him sexy, God damn him. It was the pale eyebrows, the intense way he focused, the loose fists his hands naturally rested in, the way he moved his whole body forward when he was engaged, as he was now. He was looking up at the judge, nodding, face serious. Then he turned from the bench, and his eyes found hers. As an afterthought, he flicked a glance at Tommy, but something was missing. Doug couldn’t really see him anymore, if he ever really could, and now that connection from looking at the man he loved was gone.
Tommy Kretlow felt a surge of sorrow. He’d blinded the man he loved, and he might as well have killed him. That man wasn’t coming back.
Doug stepped back from the bench. His Honor was calling for a brief recess, fifteen minutes. William and the prosecutor were invited to chambers. Doug had to remain where he was, a young cop at his side. He glanced toward where he thought Sophia was. There was someone there, probably female, tall, with an ivory blur roughly where a sweater would be. Close up, he could see facial features. He’d been able to see the judge’s face. Maybe reading and using a computer would be next. That’s all he really needed. For now, he could tell if the sun was out.
Alice would never get to teach him to sail. Doug rolled his shoulders and waited, a sense of loss building in him, not for his eyesight but for himself, his life. Before he’d met Sophia, the idea of a different kind of life hadn’t really meant anything to him. Now?
