by Holly Jacobs
“Let’s go over to the diner for dinner. Rumor has it Sebastian has a new frittata that’s to die for.”
“A frittata at a diner?” Tori did not seem positive that was a good thing.
“Only in Valley Ridge. Afterward, let’s stop at the Quarters and see what movies Marilee and Viv have on the shelves. I’m thinking this might be a perfect chick-flick night.”
“And popcorn. Not the bag stuff, but the stuff you make.” Tori had developed a taste for stove-popped popcorn.
“Definitely,” Sophie agreed.
Later that night, Sophie sat thigh to thigh with Tori on the couch, popcorn between them, watching The Big Year. It wasn’t quite the movie she’d thought it would be, but she was absolutely in love with the quiet film about birding. Tori wanted to put up some bird feeders and started making plans.
“We could start a notebook and log the birds that visit, like in the movie,” she said.
Sophie agreed and promised to take her to the Farm and House Supplies store and buy feeders and bird feed.
Sophie reflected that she’d thought this would be a big year for her because she was marrying the perfect man. It didn’t turn out that way, but it was still a big year. She’d found a daughter and was going to have a son. She had friends, and she had a community that had become a big extended family.
It was all pretty big.
* * *
COLTON WASN’T SURE why he was on Sophie’s porch at nine o’clock at night, but he was sure that if he didn’t see Sophie, he’d be spending another sleepless night.
Traditionally farmers were early-to-bed, early-to-rise sorts.
That’s what he’d been until the end of June.
He loved getting up at the crack of dawn. There was something about walking through his fields or his growing, expanding vineyards as the sun peeked up over the horizon, all pink and orange.
He remembered the first time Sophie had spent the night. He’d gotten up before dawn and there had been enough moonlight filtering through his window for him to watch her sleep. Her eyes had been darting back and forth under their lids, and the faintest smile had played on her lips. He’d wondered what she was dreaming. He’d wondered if there was any way she was as happy as he was.
When she’d woken up and smiled at him, he’d known she was happy, too.
They’d walked his vineyard that morning. He could have talked about his visions for growing the winery or about the farm. She could have talked about her expanding PR business or any number of other things.
But that first morning, they’d walked through the vineyard in silence. They’d climbed up to the top of the ridge, where they’d sat next to each other and watched the sun turn his vineyard and fields flame-colored.
And at some point he’d realized they were holding hands. He hadn’t even noticed it until that moment because it had felt as if her hand had always been there in his.
As if it belonged in his.
And then he’d realized that everything about Sophie felt as if she was part of him. A part of him he’d never realized he was missing until he’d met her. Oh, it sounded lame to even think it, but now that she’d left him, he realized with even more clarity that she was part of him. Without her he didn’t feel whole. Yeah, it might sound lame, but it was the truth. He’d read articles about amputees having phantom pains and feelings in their missing limbs.
That’s what it felt like to him. As if some vital part of him had gone. He could still feel her. When he crawled into his bed at night, he swore he could smell her perfume.
He’d doze off and reach for her...and touch nothing but a pillow.
After that, he’d be awake.
Everything came back to Sophie.
Which was why he was here.
He thought that maybe, if he could see her right before bed, he might be able to sleep for more than an hour.
He knocked.
She opened the door wearing her beat-up Mercyhurst sweats and a tank top. Typical Sophie sleepwear.
“Colton?” she asked fuzzily. She’d been dozing, probably. She had that soft sort of look he recognized.
“Mom sent these over for Cletus and I thought I’d drop them off.” He handed her the bag.
She took it and still looked puzzled. “Isn’t this about your bedtime? Past it, actually. Generally by now you’d be on your way up to bed saying, ‘Early to bed, early to rise, Sophie.’”
“Things change,” he muttered. He felt foolish. He shouldn’t have come. “I should go. You’re ready for bed.”
“I finished a movie with Tori. She’s on the phone to Sebastian’s Joe now.” She opened the door wider. “As long as you’re here, come on in.”
He didn’t need to be invited twice. He followed Sophie into the living room, and as he sat on her couch, a wave of exhaustion swept over him.
“So, why haven’t you been sleeping?” she asked.
He shrugged. He wanted to tell her he missed her next to him. He wanted to explain that she was his phantom limb, that he could feel her and smell her, and every time he woke up, the realization she wasn’t actually there hurt so much.
“Let me get you something my grandmother always made me if I was at her house and had a nightmare.” She stood and started toward the kitchen.
“You liked her?” he asked, stopping her in her tracks. “Your grandmother?”
“She loved me no matter what. So, yes. I liked her. I loved her. They put her in a home, you know. She’d gotten frail and fallen. We had this huge house with six bedrooms. My parents could have brought her home. They could have afforded nursing help. My grandmother could have afforded that herself. But my parents felt it would be too much of a bother. So, they put her in a home and then forgot about her. I visited almost every day. They didn’t visit once the last year she was alive. The last few weeks, she didn’t talk anymore. She mainly slept. And one night, she simply didn’t wake up. When we went to the funeral, my parents, they cried such crocodile tears, telling all their friends how much they’d miss her. It made me sick. Literally.”
She fled the room as she finished the sentence.
Colton realized that was the most intimate look at her childhood she’d ever given him.
Maybe she did trust him after all. It wasn’t much, but he could build on that.
He leaned his head back and the couch smelled like Sophie’s house. There was a hint of floral, and there was a spicy scent—cinnamon, maybe. As if she’d just made cookies.
He leaned farther back and realized exactly what the couch smelled like.
Home.
* * *
SOPHIE RETURNED WITH a cup of warm cinnamon milk and saw that Colton had passed out on her couch.
Tori came up behind her. “What’s he doing here?”
“He brought me some books his mom sent over for the baby.”
“Are you going to wake him and kick him out?” Anger was once again festering in Tori’s words.
“He’s exhausted. This is more than his normal summertime’s-too-busy-for-sleep sort of exhaustion. I could pack for a week’s vacation in the bags under his eyes so, no, I don’t think I will wake him. He knows his way out if he wakes up.”
She’d thought she’d talk to him about custody, about having something official on paper, but that conversation would have to wait. She gazed at him and almost ached with how exhausted he looked.
“You still love him,” Tori stated. Not accused.
Sophie wasn’t sure how to explain her mixed-up feelings to Tori when she barely understood them herself. “I do still love him. I don’t know how someone turns off that kind of love.”
Obviously that wasn’t enough of an answer, because Tori asked, “He asked you to marry him again, so why not say yes if you love him?”
“Because...” Sophie couldn’t think of anything else to add. Because he was simply another person she’d thought would love her without reservation and who didn’t. It sounded stupid. It sounded childish. But there it was.
Despite everything, all the promises she’d made herself after Tori’s father left her, she’d opened herself up and trusted him.
And once again, she’d been let down.
“Loving someone doesn’t always mean you can be with them.”
“That’s dumb.” When Sophie didn’t respond, Tori sighed. “Adults are complicated.”
“You can say that again,” Sophie agreed. “Come on, let’s go to bed and let Colton get some sleep. Go on up and I’ll check that everything’s locked tight down here.”
Tori went up the stairs and Sophie checked the doors were locked, then got the throw off her rocker and spread it over Colton. She watched him for long minutes. He had darkly smudged bags under his eyes. There were lines on his forehead she didn’t recall seeing before. She wanted to reach out and smooth them, but she didn’t.
Heck, she longed to get onto the couch next to him. She knew from experience that he’d reach for her. He’d draw her into his arms and tuck her up under his chin. So many nights they’d slept like that, her wrapped in Colton. She’d thought she’d spend the rest of her life sleeping like that.
She pulled herself away from that fantasy and continued studying him. His hair was longer than it generally was in the summer, as if even the act of taking a razor to it was too much for him.
She was right when she’d told Tori she still loved him. She did. But she didn’t trust him to stand by her no matter what. She realized she couldn’t trust that he’d be fair about the baby, either. She thought he would. She hoped he would. She wanted to believe that they could keep things friendly and share. But she was going to have to get something in writing. She didn’t need financial support, but she did want to spell out visitation. She needed to have some paper in hand that guaranteed he couldn’t come take this baby from her.
Sophie didn’t think she’d survive having another child ripped away from her.
She wished he’d loved her enough to stand by her, even though she knew she’d been at fault. After her parents, she’d sworn she’d rather go through life alone than to feel as if she had to be perfect in order to gain someone’s love. “I can’t be perfect. I only wanted you to love me warts and all.”
She turned off the light and headed upstairs. Tori’s door was open so she popped her head in. Tori had taken her permission to make the room her own to heart. She had put up on the wall a couple of posters of bands Sophie didn’t recognize. She had placed books on the shelf and the nightstand, and there was a pile next to her bed. Sophie had told Tori she could decorate the room however she wanted, and other than the posters, Tori’s biggest decorating feature seemed to be books. She smiled at her daughter. “I wanted to say good-night.”
She started to shut the door, but Tori said, “Sophie?”
She turned around. “Yes?”
“You were talking about me. Loving someone, but not being able to be with them. Right?”
“Yes, in part.”
“I get why you let Mom and Dad adopt me. But I don’t get why you can’t be with Colton.”
“I’m not what he really wants. He wanted who he thought I was. For a long time, I pretended my past away. I thought if I didn’t talk about my parents, about how much they hurt me, and if I didn’t talk about you and how much I missed you, that I could somehow pretend to be who he wanted me to be. To be honest, I liked seeing myself through Colton’s eyes. He saw someone who was better than I could ever be. But he was wrong. I’m flawed. Damaged maybe. I can’t go back to pretending, and that pretender is who Colton fell in love with. The woman who tried to be perfect. Well, I’m not perfect. And I won’t go back to trying, or pretending to be.”
Tori wrapped her legs around her arms. “I guess I get that. I’m not perfect, either. Overall, I’m a mediocre student.”
“Yeah, well, I can’t balance my checkbook, even though I took accounting basics in school,” Sophie confessed. “I mean, never. I’ve never once balanced the thing to the penny. I always show too much or too little and I simply use whatever amount I come up with and trust that I’m close enough.”
Tori offered, “I hate gym class. I couldn’t hit a softball to save my life. My jock friend Laurel was team captain once, and she still picked me last. I didn’t blame her because I’d have picked me last, too.”
Sophie realized that, in her whole life, she’d never told someone she loved about her flaws. She offered up another. “I painted the whole house, but I’m a horrible edger. Look at the ceilings sometime—they’re practically waves.”
“I can’t cook,” Tori said. “Not like my grandmother. She’d tried to teach me, but I’m a mess.”
“I can’t shave my legs without missing a section. And I don’t notice the section until I’m somewhere in public,” Sophie said.
Tori laughed. “I bite my fingernails.”
“I hate pedicures. Really, I don’t like touching my own feet. Why would I pay someone else to do it?” Sophie slept in socks in order to avoid her feet touching anything. Colton had bought her a box of wild socks last year for Christmas. He’d collected them all year. There were chick socks for Easter, pumpkin socks, striped socks....
They both burst into laughter. “We’re hopeless,” Tori said.
Sophie sat next to her daughter. “We’re perfectly imperfect. I wouldn’t change one thing about you.”
“Nothing?” Tori asked, as if she didn’t quite believe that.
“Not one single blue hair...or whatever color you dye it. You are everything I ever hoped you’d be. I’m so lucky to have you back in my life.” She threw her arms around her daughter and hugged her. She held on, holding Tori and crying. “Fabulously, perfectly imperfect.”
Tori hugged her back. “I love you. Sometimes I’m still so mad, but even when I am, I love you. Mom and Dad know it, and don’t mind. Mom said she loves you, too.”
“Sometimes I’m so mad, too, and ditto. I love your parents.” She reluctantly let go. “Now, you have to be at the library in the morning, so we’d both better get some sleep.”
“Did I tell you that I started a donation jar at work?”
The comment seemed to come from left field, but Sophie went along with it. “No, you didn’t.”
“I put it out on the counter, and wrote a little card that said, ‘Your change could change someone’s life...help us buy a book.’”
“That’s a lovely idea.”
“Yeah, but sometimes, maybe we need to change our own life. Maybe you need to figure out what you want and go after it.”
Sophie knew that Tori was talking about Colton, and she did want something from him, but not what Tori thought.
“Thanks. That’s good advice.”
She left her daughter’s room determined to see to it no one ever took Cletus from her. Not even Colton.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
COLTON WOKE UP with a start. He drew in a deep breath. Rather than the fresh farm air, he smelled...cinnamon.
Sophie.
He’d spent the night at Sophie’s. On her couch.
He realized that she’d covered him with an afghan.
He pulled it up and sniffed. Home. Sophie.
He felt more refreshed than he’d felt since their almost-wedding.
He sat up and glanced at the clock on her shelf.
A quarter after nine?
That couldn’t be right.
He got up and headed into the kitchen. Tori was at the counter. She spotted him and scowled. “I’ve got to get to get to the library early, Soph.” She turned and went out the back door without saying a word to him.
Sophie had her back to him so he cleared his throat.
She whirled around and said, “Good morning. I trust you slept well.”
“Yeah. I’m sorry about that. I didn’t mean to come and crash on your couch.”
“No problem.” She nodded at a chair, and he sat down. She brought him a coffee and sat next to him. “I wanted to talk to you about something.”
“That sounds omin
ous.”
She looked nervous. She fumbled with her cup, twirling it around and around as she said, “Well, first, let’s start with me saying thank-you for saying yes to Mattie and Finn getting married at the farm.”
“I should have thought of it myself.” Sophie didn’t say anything else so he prompted, “And?”
“Listen, I said I wanted things with us to be friendly and I do. But yesterday, when Mattie was talking about keeping the guest list down because their yard was so small and I thought of the farm, well, she also mentioned that Finn had wanted to invite their attorneys from when he’d planned to sue her for custody, and it got me to thinking about the issue of custody and visitation. The more I thought about it, the more I realized that it all should be put down in writing.”
Sophie studied him a moment, then hurried on. “So I thought I’d go see Mattie’s attorney about drawing up documents for us. Or we could go.” Her words came out in a breathless rush.
Colton let his coffee mug thump onto the table and weighed his words. He could tell she was nervous about her proposal. He thought about Tori, who’d stormed out of the room. He thought about what she had said that day about Sophie screaming for a chance to at least hold her baby.
“You need to respond with real words. Preferably English ones,” Sophie prompted. “I know you’re probably mad. And you’re going to say I should trust you. But I can’t afford to do that. I would never keep you from the baby, but I need to know that you won’t ever try to take him from me.”
Need. He was pretty sure that was the accurate word. Not want. Need. And he could understand that need. He could understand her needing to be sure the baby would never be taken from her.
“I don’t want any child support. We’ve already covered that I’ve got plenty of money. But I’m not saying that to make you feel insulted,” she quickly added. “I am worried about the custody arrangements, not so much the money. I... I’m making a muck of this, aren’t I?”
He reached over and put his hand on hers. “Sophie, it’s okay. I get it.”
“You do?” she asked. She sounded surprised.
He nodded. “You go ahead and make the appointment. See what Mattie’s lawyer says. I’ll sign anything that’s reasonable.”
