Marrying Mr. Wrong (Dirty Martini Running Club #3) - Claire Kingsley Page 0,81
me eat. I mostly stayed in the background, letting the two of them talk. There was something about seeing Mom and Sophie enjoying themselves—smiling and laughing together—that made my chest feel tight.
Eventually, it was time to say our goodbyes. Mom walked us out and embraced Sophie in a big hug.
“Thank you for everything, Georgia,” Sophie said. “It was so good to meet you.”
“You too, sweetheart.” She turned to me and for the first time today, didn’t glare. Instead, she patted my chest. “Love you, son.”
“Love you too, Mom.”
“Y’all come back soon. And Sophie, whether or not you stay my daughter-in-law, you’re welcome anytime.”
“Thank you so much.” Sophie glanced at me and the look in her eyes was like a knife to my chest. I could almost hear her unspoken question.
Are we really going to get divorced?
Skyline was breaking ground soon. At this point, even if I did take some flack in the press for marrying Sophie, it wouldn’t be enough to hurt the project. And that was why we’d stayed married in the first place. We could file for divorce anytime.
But did I want to? Did she?
The fact that I was questioning this was such a mindfuck.
We said our last goodbyes and I led Sophie to my car. She was quiet on the drive home. Was she thinking the same thing as me? Was she wondering how the fuck this was going to work?
I couldn’t deny I had feelings for Sophie—feelings I’d never had for a woman before. She was making me question everything. The way I lived. My staunch commitment to bachelorhood. I’d never considered what I’d do if I found someone I wanted to marry. I’d always assumed that would never happen.
And then Sophie had dropped into my life. She’d changed everything. And a single question kept swirling through my head.
Was I going to lose her?
28
Sophie
Meeting Georgia had been so wonderful. She was funny and sweet and she’d been so nice to me. She hadn’t made me feel the least bit bad about how Cox and I had wound up married. I felt like I could have stayed for hours, just chatting with her.
But we’d left on a bit of a sad note, and I wasn’t sure what to do about it.
Cox drove us home in silence. He didn’t seem angry or upset. Just preoccupied. Was he thinking about us? Or had his mind already moved ahead to work? It was Sunday, after all. Maybe he was mentally reviewing all the things he had to do at the office the next day.
I fiddled with my dress, remaining just as quiet as he was. But I wasn’t thinking about work.
I was thinking about the big D word.
If we filed for divorce, did it mean we’d break up? Would I go back to my apartment and move on, like none of it had been real?
Because we had to, right? We couldn’t stay married.
When I’d agreed to wait to file for divorce, I hadn’t counted on falling for the man I’d married.
But I had. I’d fallen for him hard.
We got back to his place and went inside. I half-expected Cox to go straight to his office, but he followed me to the bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed while I stepped out of my heels.
“Come here.” He patted the spot next to him.
I sat, not quite sure if I could meet his eyes. My feelings were all over the place.
He gently brushed my hair back from my face. “Sophie, I need to apologize.”
“For what?”
“For how I treated you when we were kids. I should have already, but I kept thinking it was so long ago, how could it matter? And maybe it doesn’t. But I’m sorry anyway.”
“Thank you. I forgive you.”
I thought that was it—that he’d said what he needed to say. Because he was right: It had been a long time ago. And we’d been kids. I wasn’t going to hold him responsible for things he’d done when we were children. He certainly wasn’t mean now. And he only pulled my hair when I wanted him to.
But he fingered one of my curls and kept talking. “The time we lived on Ashford Street was something of a low point. It was before my mom finally kicked my dad out.”
“Your dad?”
He nodded slowly. “He drank. A lot. He wasn’t so bad when he was sober, but when he wasn’t, he got violent.”