know?"
Sam nodded. "We saw your Instagram," she confessed. "You have a lot of followers."
Sophia shrugged, but I could see a small smile of pride on her face. "I could have more. Anyway, my agent said the attention I was getting as Athena could open up some opportunities for me."
"So you were the model for Connor's game?" I asked, having had the same thought myself.
She nodded. "I was Connor's muse." She bit her lip and shook her head, as if suddenly remembering he was gone.
"Had you two been together long?" Sam asked, her voice laced with sympathy.
Sophia nodded. "Three years. We met when I was still in high school. He came to do a talk at an assembly about young people in business." She shook her head. "He was such a geek then."
I thought of the pictures I'd seen online of Simon. He'd seemed pretty cool to me, but maybe my standards were different than a model's.
"Anyway," she said, continuing, "I didn't start seeing Connor right away. I was a cheerleader back then." She gave me a knowing look like I should understand exactly what that meant.
Sadly, I did not. "So, cheer kept you too busy to date…?" I guessed.
She laughed, picking at her manicure. "Well, yeah, I guess. But I mean, Connor wasn't my type, you know? I mean, I usually dated guys who were, like, ripped. Into sports, you know, more like manly types?"
Sam nodded. "I feel ya. My boyfriend plays rugby."
"Right?" Sophia said. "So, like, yeah. I turned Connor down when he asked me out the first time. But, you know, he was cute. And persistent."
Not to mention owned his own successful business. I wondered what his net worth had been back then. Clearly more than a high school cheerleader. The cynic in me wondered if Sophia finally going out with Connor had been less about him wearing her down and more about her realizing he could be a millionaire before thirty.
"Things were good between you, then?" I asked.
"Of course," she said quickly. "Why wouldn't they be?"
"No reason," Sam covered for me. "I mean, it just must have been hard with both of your busy schedules. I imagine modeling takes up a lot of your time."
I shot her a thankful look. Nice save, Sam.
"It does," Sophia agreed, her expression softening again. "But we made the time for each other." She took in a deep, shuddering breath, the grief of losing him seeming to come in waves.
I was about to ask more about their relationship, but before I could, Sophia jumped suddenly to her feet, causing me to flinch. "Can I get you something to drink? Or eat? Some friends have already stopped by with food. I thought that was something only old people did—bring food when someone has passed away. Anyway, there's a ton, and I don't know what to do with it, and well…" She wrung her hands, and it appeared that her emotions were getting the best of her.
"I could use a bite," Sam piped up. She gave me a shrug, and I couldn't tell if she was truly hungry or wanted to appease our hostess.
Sophia looked relieved, as if grateful to be doing something. Or maybe she was trying to prolong the company. No one wanted to sit in their misery alone. "Come into the kitchen," she said, leading the way.
The kitchen was small but tricked out in lots of granite and stainless steel. A large peninsula jutted into the center, and four wooden stools sat around it. Sam and I sat on ones facing the shiny, new-looking appliances that I doubted got much use. Sophia opened her fridge and placed a tray of ready-made turkey and ham sandwiches, a quart of potato salad, a fruit basket, and a tin of brownies down in front of us. After grabbing some plates, utensils, and three bottles of sparkling water, she sat down on the other side of the counter, across from us.
I looked from the spread to her size two figure. I'd expected a tray of celery and carrot sticks with a side of iceberg lettuce. This did not strike me as model food.
"Help yourself. I'll never eat this," she confirmed, her voice wavering on the last word.
"I can't imagine what you're going through," I said, grabbing a sandwich and a brownie. I hadn't experienced much personal death in my life, let alone losing someone that close to you. I knew what breaking up with a boyfriend felt like—that I had experienced, and it hadn't been