The part of the speech that was most personal to Dash, and revealed something he admired about his father was, of course, the one thing his mom wanted to remove from it entirely. Still, he wasn’t going to fight. He didn’t care if she watered it down to something more palatable. He wasn’t doing this for himself. He’d do it because he had no other choice.
“And, Dash?” She dabbed the napkin at the corners of her mouth, barely looking at him. “I need you to promise that nothing will go wrong at this event.”
Of course his mother would say that to him—always assuming he’d be the cause of some kind of trouble. Dash wanted to leave, though, so he nodded as a kind of answer.
He was practically vibrating with anger as he turned and walked toward the doors that would take him out of the restaurant and back to the safety of his car. He didn’t want his mother’s words to affect him: Unlike you, your father’s career isn’t done. But his eyes burned as he lowered a pair of sunglasses onto his face to hide any potential tears spilling out as he handed his valet ticket to an attendant.
He knew he was the most disappointing of the Montrose children. Even without his mom explicitly saying so, he’d understood his place in the pecking order at every dinner and family function. Still, her words caused his chest to tighten as he got into the car.
Before pulling away to drive home, he took out his phone. There was only one thing that would potentially interfere with the speech for his dad.
He typed a new message to @craftycindy. Can we talk?
23
SOPHIE
Sophie had never been good at puzzles. She didn’t have strategies—like, corner pieces first—to finish them. But still, she’d taken out her notecards and done her best to piece together all the information she’d received.
Across her kitchen table was a makeshift puzzle of neon-green cards for Carla, neon-pink for Ned, and neon-blue for Jewel. She’d written down all the reasons the relationships hadn’t worked out, along with what her obvious issues were （the word trust was circled on several of the notecards）。 But maybe because she didn’t have all the pieces, she just wasn’t seeing how they fit into a solution.
The last and final piece of her ex-periment was Kyle—an ex she truly did not want to see based solely on the fact that he was an absolute nightmare person. He’d catcalled a woman （terrible enough） while on a date with Sophie, for example.
Sophie would need to see Kyle before she could draw any final conclusions. So she scooped the cards up and tucked them into her desk drawer. Then she opened a text and typed in Kyle’s name, which is when she saw what she’d saved him as: Unfunny Kyle. She cringed at the accuracy because he was the least funny comedian she’d ever met.
Sophie: Hey, it’s Sophie. Would you be open to catching up soon?
She didn’t have to wait long for a response.
Unfunny Kyle: Sophie who?
She glared at the text. It was possible he had multiple Sophies in his life, she was just a little dubious that he didn’t have her name saved.
Sophie: Lyon
Unfunny Kyle: Roar ??
She put her face in her hands and instantly regretted texting him. Maybe she could just forget she’d messaged him at all.
Almost as quickly, another winner of a text came through.
Unfunny Kyle: Sure thing, little miss lion, get ready to purrr.
Sophie didn’t have long to wallow in the unfortunate wake of texting Kyle, though, as there was a knock at the door. She checked the time, and it was already past seven, which meant Carla had arrived for their date night.
When Sophie opened the door, the sun had set, which should’ve cooled the air, but outside still felt warm and stagnant. Carla stood in her hospital scrubs with a headband holding her hair back from her face. Sophie felt an intense rush of déjà vu at the familiar sight. There had been so many nights where Carla would come to her place after a long day of surgeries and making rounds, and Sophie would massage her shoulders while Carla picked a show for them to watch. They’d had the kind of effortless domesticity that Sophie had always wanted and that she hoped to find again. Maybe that could be with Carla.
Sophie stood on her tiptoes, wrapped her arms around Carla’s neck, and brought her in for a kiss. The kiss was a kiss—not fireworks, but still intimate—and Sophie tried to focus on Carla’s thick hair between her fingers and the way her soft lips curled up with pleasure as they stood locked together.
“Hey,” Sophie said as she pulled away.
“Hey.” Carla grabbed Sophie’s hands and held her there.
“Are you hungry?” Sophie pulled her hands back as she took out her phone. “We could order something.”
“No worries, I got us tacos.” Carla picked up the paper bag at her feet and walked through the door and into the house. “I remember that you don’t cook.”
Sophie could do this. She could refocus her energy on Carla, the same way she’d been zeroed in on Dash. Carla had wanted a future for them, and Sophie wanted one, too. Or, rather, she wanted to want one.
So when Sophie closed the door behind them, she also gathered her courage. She didn’t wait for Carla to settle in. If she was going to say the things she’d always been afraid to, she would just have to do it.
“Carla, I need to tell you something.” Sophie wrung her hands as she spoke. “I realized that I have this…pattern with people I date where I just kind of let them decide everything for me, like, what we do, where we go, what we eat. Don’t get me wrong, sometimes I like when those decisions are taken off my plate, so to speak, but if this is going to work, I want you to get to know me.”
“Okay.” Carla crossed her arms and studied her. “Do you not want the tacos?”
“No, no, I very much want the tacos. Tacos are delicious. But I’m just saying, like, moving forward.” Sophie gestured in front of her, as if to the future.
Carla gave an affectionate smile and placed the take-out bag on the kitchen table. “I can do that.”
“So you’re okay with everything I said?” Sophie’s hand had instinctively gone to her pacemaker, and she held a finger against the scar there.
Carla opened the bag of food and began to take tacos out one at a time. “I want you to be yourself. If ordering food does that, then you will order food.”
Sophie waited for the familiar swirl of tension that came whenever she was in a situation that might make her unlikable. Confrontation made her skin crawl. She’d spent so much time making sure everyone else was happy that she hadn’t spent much time being clear about what made her happy. But relief swept through her like a balm.
“So how do we do this?” Carla’s hands were on her hips, her stance was wide, and she looked like she was analyzing next steps in a surgical case. “Do you want to talk about what happened between us?”
“Maybe it’s better if we just start over.” Sophie approached Carla and rubbed her hands across her shoulders. “I held back a lot when I was with you, but I want to make this work. I don’t need to hash out everything that went wrong.”
“Okay.” Carla finally relaxed, and her hands fell to her sides. “I just want to be here with you.”