pussy or is it his law partner he spends his nights with these days?”
It was a low blow and I knew it, but it got the desired response. “Fuck you, Theodore. You’re no better off considering Mariska found somebody who wasn’t you to share her body with. Just because it was after your separation doesn’t mean the desire wasn’t there before it was made final. What does that say about you? So, excuse me for being stupid enough to believe we could help each other. Or that you’d, at the very least, be willing to help the girl you say you care about.”
My chuckle was low and dark, building as my head shook at her ruse. “You’re lucky, Sophie. Adele is still in your life in some form despite the bullshit you spew at her. I’d suggest stopping while you’re ahead before you lose her for good. She won’t need my help making that decision if you keep it up.”
Her breathing halts for a split second.
“And Sophie?”
“What, Theo?”
“Don’t waste my time with your false concern. You never wanted to help me, you simply wanted to claim what you couldn’t have to get back at your husband. I’m no pawn.”
Before she replied, I hung up and blew out an irritated breath. Who the fuck did she think she was? She was no more than a sad middle-aged housewife who threw away any future picked out for her by someone else. I’d raise hell if anybody pushed that on Della. She deserved more. Anthony knew it. Elizabeth knew it. Everyone but Sophie, who did whatever she pleased despite her brother’s wishes.
I dropped back into my chair. “I need a fucking smoke.”
I was staring at the desk when I heard, “I thought you were going to quit.” Without even looking up I knew who the feather-light voice belonged to.
“Shouldn’t you be at school?” As soon as I looked up, I took in her outfit and fought back a smile. Her white shorts were a little too short on her long legs, but they didn’t cling to her smooth skin. They were high-waisted like she preferred wearing and loose, with a striped shirt tucked into them and an oversized white blazer over top, left unbuttoned. She always dressed to impress, which made her parents happy. I knew when she wasn’t out, she was in paint-stained overalls, pajamas with ridiculous fucking pictures on them, or workout pants with knee-high socks featuring obnoxious patterns.
Della was always eccentric in her style preferences when she had nobody to dazzle, and that was what impressed me most about her.
She walked in, the heels of her shoes clicking against the floor as she stopped in front of my desk. “It’s almost five thirty. I don’t have anywhere to be since…”
Since she stopped dancing. I knew that. It wasn’t like she’d stopped recently—it’d been years. But that didn’t mean it wasn’t hard to see her lingering when she was normally elsewhere doing something that she loved a long time ago.
Her throat cleared. “I was going to head back to my place and work on some projects a little, but I figured you’d still be here.”
While my building was on her way home from campus, it didn’t make sense why she’d come. “Something I can do for you?”
Her lips twitched, tilting downward like the question hurt her. I wasn’t trying to play coy, or even play it off, but I was no stranger to the way her eyes lingered on me. It was the same way mine did on her, I was just better at hiding it. “I was checking in, I guess. I…” I wanted to kick myself knowing she was hesitating because I made her feel unwelcome. She brushed it off. “Can I make you dinner?”
I blinked. “Come again?”
She stood tall, nodding once. Her hair was pulled back in some kind of twisted updo, but a thick strand fell loose and caressed her cheek. The same one that was tinted pink at her own words as she waited for my response. “I want to make you dinner. I have something in mind that I think you’d like. You can’t go wrong with a homecooked meal, right?”
The chair creaked under my weight as I leaned back with my hands folded on my stomach. “Depends what it is.” That was a lie. I’d be happy with anything that I didn’t have to take out of a container, especially if she were the one cooking it.