Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 123579 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 618(@200wpm)___ 494(@250wpm)___ 412(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 123579 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 618(@200wpm)___ 494(@250wpm)___ 412(@300wpm)
“Hey, why don’t you go get a drink or something?” I give her thin shoulders a reassuring squeeze. “Just give me a few minutes with her.”
“I’m not leaving.” Stil’s eyes are hard as pebbles in her little heart-shaped face. “I’ve been with Sofie a long time, and I’ve never seen her like this.”
She looks down at the floor, clearing her throat before looking back up at me, determination on her face.
“I’m not leaving.”
Thank God Sofie has this woman. Her parents certainly offer no support. I pull Stil in for a quick hug and drop a kiss on her cheek.
“I’m not leaving either,” I say. “So she’s got both of us. Just trust me with her for a little while, okay?”
She looks like she’s still not sure, glancing at the closed door for a few moments. She finally exhales a heavy breath and leaves the bedroom without a word.
I don’t bother knocking. I use the key Stil got from maintenance, turning it until the bathroom door swings open. My heart plummets at my first sight of her. I know she’s not dead, but she’s so completely still in a small lifeless knot on the bathroom floor, wearing nothing at all. She doesn’t even respond when the door opens. The beautiful hair she’s known so well for surrounds her, severed and cast down into silvery heaps on the marble floor.
I take a few steps until I can see her face, and her eyes stare vacantly ahead, tears rolling silently down her cheeks, into her mouth, onto her neck. I want to squeeze the life out of something, to rage at everyone who hurt her and left her for dead. To choke Kyle Manchester and everyone from his team. But I can’t do any of that right now. I can only do this.
“Sofie,” I say softly. “Sit up.”
She doesn’t speak, just shakes her head, eyes fixed on nothing and unblinking. I reach for her, startled by how cold her arm is.
“You’re freezing, darlin’.” Still no response.
I scoop her up and carry her into the bedroom. She doesn’t protest when I pull the covers back and carefully place her under the sheet and comforter. Without thought, I kick off my shoes and crawl in behind her, pressing my body to her back, reaching for her hands and chafing them between mine.
I don’t know how long we lie that way, the silence broken only by our breathing. Slowly, her back begins to relax into my chest, and I scoot as close as I can, tucking my chin into the cove between her neck and shoulder. I cross my arms over her waist, pulling her into me as tightly and gently as I can.
“I didn’t abort my baby,” she whispers.
I freeze. As much as the questions line up in my head, wait on my tongue, I hold them back. She has to do this, to tell her story in her own way. I squeeze her fingers between mine, silently encouraging her to say more.
“I…I was so young.” Tears crack her voice, and she sniffs before going on. “I knew I was pregnant at the Paris show. I was scared. I didn’t know what I was doing. I’d always thought I’d sow my wild oats and then settle down with Walsh, but he didn’t seem much interested in a life with me. I had this amazing guy I thought loved me, and I started thinking maybe he’s the one. Maybe we’ll have a family.”
Her laugh sounds harsh in the quiet darkness of the room.
“I was such a fool,” she says. “I’m having this man’s baby, and his wife shows up, confronting me, calling me names, making a fool of me in front of the whole world.”
She shakes her head, the jagged pieces of hair brushing my chin.
“There was some foolish part of me that wanted that baby,” she says. “Who did I have? Not my parents. I had no real friends, except Walsh, and he never wanted to be more than that. I thought, This is mine. I’m not giving this up. I wanted to believe Esteban when he told me their marriage was over. I was all set to tell him about the baby, but I needed reassurances, so I pressed about when he was getting the divorce.”
She draws in a trembling breath.
“He finally laughed in my face and said, ‘You actually think I would leave my wife for you, Sofie? This is all there is.’”
My jaw hurts from how tightly I’m clenching it to tamp down my anger. That little shit. I could crush his skull for doing that to her.
“So I didn’t tell him,” she continues. “I didn’t tell anyone. I pretended it was just not there for a few weeks; like it would go away. I had shoots and shows. I was sick all the time, but not eating. I was so busy, and I…I guess I didn’t take care of myself.”