“I do.” Though, Sophie was sure an embarrassed flush crept across her cheeks.
“Do you still have feelings for her?” Nina asked.
Sophie pursed her lips. “I mean, I don’t know? Carla has always been my catnip.”
“Yes.” Poppy raised her glass of celery juice in acknowledgment.
“Or kryptonite? I never really read comic books, but she always makes me—”
“Not yourself,” Poppy cut her off.
“Right.” Sophie did know that Carla brought out a different side of her—some of that great, and some of it less so. But still, she’d almost loved Carla. They had history, and Sophie thought she’d be a good ex to talk to, especially if there was still a connection between them. She wouldn’t know for sure until they saw each other again.
Sophie put the phone back in her dress pocket and exhaled sharply. She knew what she had to do.
Nina was right: there would be another book. Sophie would make their mom proud. She wouldn’t be a one-hit wonder, and she wasn’t going to let her writer’s block get the best of her. She was a fighter, and self-sufficient, the way their mother had taught them to be. She’d worked hard to get to where she was, so she was going to do everything she could to save her career and find a happily-ever-after she could write about, even if it meant putting herself out there way more than she liked.
“I’ll be right back.” Sophie pushed her chair out and stood from the table.
She walked through the restaurant and wove around the tables. She overheard hints of conversations—“She’s a Pisces rising with a Capricorn moon? You better run”—and took a moment to eye a massive, framed painting of bananas covered in the Louis Vuitton logo. Eventually she found the bathrooms and locked herself in a stall.
She leaned a shoulder against the wall and took out her phone. Loud background music played through the speakers as she went into her texts and typed in Carla’s name. She stared at the message from her: Saw the video… Sophie squeezed her eyes shut. She’d never been given closure with Carla. So maybe talking to her could finally help Sophie understand what had happened with their relationship. And, whatever—Carla had already seen her at her lowest because she’d watched the viral video—there wasn’t much else to lose.
Sophie shook the lingering apprehension out of her shoulders, then typed back, Yeah, about that video… Can we talk? and hit Send.
So what if Carla never responded? At least Sophie would know that she’d tried. And if Carla did want to talk, then maybe Sophie could turn it into a new book idea, or something.
Sophie unlocked the bathroom door and pushed it open just as her phone pinged with a text. When she glanced down at the screen, she stopped abruptly in her tracks.
Carla: That would be good.
When Nina dropped her back off at home, Sophie felt motivated for the first time in a long time. She had a mission, a potential way out of her writer’s-block fog, and she also had a bag filled to the brim with cinnamon-sugar bagels—Dash’s favorite treat, according to Poppy. She wanted to properly apologize for the previous morning’s…disaster. Vomit fest? Whatever, she planned to make things right.
Sophie avoided the fallen purple petals from the overhead jacaranda trees as she walked across the pavers of her lawn that led to Dash’s 1920s Spanish-style house. When she got to his door, she rolled back her shoulders and rang the bell. For some reason, a little jitter of nerves fluttered through her at the idea of seeing him again. Or maybe she’d had one too many coffee refills at breakfast. So she took a breath in, put on a smile, and told herself to relax.
And she did relax, sort of, because Dash didn’t immediately answer. She waited, and waited some more. She stood outside for what seemed like a few solid minutes, then checked her phone. It was noon, practically lunchtime. The sun had fully come out, and the air had turned into the dry desert heat she actively avoided by staying inside. But maybe Dash wasn’t home, though his car was in the driveway…
As she bent down to leave the bagels on his welcome mat, she heard the unmistakable sound of his front door creaking open.
She looked up, and Dash stood there in nothing but boxers, rubbing at an eye with the palm of his hand. He ran fingers through his thick dirty-blond hair, and a strand fell across his forehead as he took her in. His hands landed on his hips, drawing her attention to the thick black outlines of a tattoo that traveled down and into his boxers.
“Shit,” she muttered. But what she meant was I cannot think about Poppy’s brother’s dick. Sophie was doing everything she could not to stare at his junk, but honestly, it was just there, filling out those boxers and practically winking at her.
“Are you telling me that’s what’s in the bag that you just left on my doorstep?” An amused look crossed his face, and his muscled thighs flexed as he shifted from one foot to the next.
“Uh, no.” She stood and brought the bag up with her. She held it out directly in front of Dash’s boxers so she’d have something physically blocking her view of the…elephant in the doorway. “This is not a bag of shit.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Good to hear.”
“I hope I didn’t wake you?” She waited for him to respond, but all he did was cross his arms over his chest so, yes, she’d guessed she had. She internally cringed for ruining not one but two mornings in a row for him. So much for making things right between them. “I don’t know if I’m Sorry Bagels are actually a thing, but I am sorry about yesterday. I still owe you, but food tends to make everything better, in my experience.”
Dash cautiously took the bag from Sophie and opened the top. He grunted back—a sound so low and deep it made the hair on her arms stand up.
“Poppy said you like cinnamon-sugar bagels?” Sophie really, really hoped he did, because if he didn’t, then she was officially the worst tenant ever.
“I don’t like them,” he said.
Her breath caught at the realization that she’d made a huge miscalculation.
“I’m obsessed with them.” He rubbed a hand across his chin as he eyed her. He had just the shadow of a beard. “Consider us even, Soph.”
She’d never heard him shorten her name to Soph before. She couldn’t help the small smile that crossed her lips. He held her gaze; she’d forgotten how deeply blue and piercing his eyes were.
She almost leaned toward him, but the sound of Dash’s phone pinging startled her. Dash flipped the phone over and read the screen. His expression went dark.
“Gah,” he muttered to himself.
But Sophie had always been a bit nosy. “What is it?”
He looked up and glared back at her, like he’d forgotten she was there. “You don’t want to know.”
4
DASH
FROM: [email protected]
SUBJECT: URGENT/TIMELY REQUEST/RESPOND
IMMEDIATELY
Dash, Kitty has requested to see a copy of the speech for William within the next few weeks. Please respond immediately with your thoughts.
Something about the email from his mom—well, his mom’s assistant—and the reminder of his mom’s expectations had his heart thudding harder than he liked. The same way it always did whenever he was dragged back into the family business.