her favorite. Here it’s an ordinary Saturday morning, and I almost forget about last night.
Almost.
“I can take over, Mom,” I say. “Go do what you need to do. We’ll be fine.”
Mom exhales as she secures the end of Em’s braid and then she kisses the top of her head.
“I’ll be back in a couple of hours,” she tells us on her way out.
As soon as the front door closes, Em turns her chair and wheels down the hallway toward the living room like she’s got somewhere to be.
“You want to watch our show?” she asks with sparkling eyes.
I chuckle and pretend to resist. “It’s so awful.”
“Please?”
Ever since my relationship with Nolan—if you can call it that—my mom has become ultra conservative and hyper protective, especially when it comes to what she allows my sister to watch. Things with sex (gasp) or swearing (God-forbid) are outlawed under her roof.
But she’s not here.
And what she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.
I grab the remote, cue to Netflix, and settle in on the sofa.
The opening credits of Emmeline’s favorite show—one about a college-aged escort living a secret double life in New York City—begin to play. I don’t know why she loves this show with its cheesy dialogue and second-rate acting, but I suppose we all have those themes that just resonate with us for whatever reason.
That and she loves the male lead. She’s had a mad crush on him ever since I took her to see one of his movies several years ago.
An italic subtitle flashes across the bottom of the screen—produced by Westcott Cinematic Enterprises.
I roll my eyes. How I never noticed that before is beyond me.
The man owns software companies, grocery chains, pharmaceutical companies, newspapers, and the largest e-commerce website in the world. Amongst a million other things. Of course he owns a movie production company.
My sister laughs, and I recall a time not so long ago when that wouldn’t have been possible. I’ll never forget the first time I saw her smile—truly smile—or the first time she was able to brush her own teeth. Or the day we moved her from her expensive motorized wheelchair to one that allowed her more independence because her needs had changed for the better.
I can say many things about Nolan Ames, nearly all of them unfavorable, but at the end of the day, he was the one who put us in touch with the world-renowned physical therapists and physicians who were able to use cutting-edge stem cell treatments and yet-to-be FDA approved medicinal regimens that completely changed Emmeline’s prognosis and quality of life. And he paid for every last cent along the way … he still does.
It didn’t come for free though.
I sold my soul to the devil—though it’s not like I had a choice at the time. And I’m happy for Emmeline, for what she got from the bargain. But he took a piece of me I’ll never get back and left something hollow in its place.
But I’m older now. Wiser.
And I’ll be damned before I let another man put a price on me again.
Thirteen
Sophie
Past
The number of times I’ve lied to my mom I can count on one hand.
Fresh red roses—two dozen of them—perfume the darkened hotel suite we share tonight. In the corner, my boyfriend, Nolan, uncorks a bottle of wine. The curtains are pulled wide behind him, city lights twinkling like something out of a fairytale.
Tonight’s the night.
My mom thinks I’m staying the night at Stacia Hendricks’ house.
She also doesn’t know I’ve been seeing Nolan every weekend for the past two months—or that I quit my job at the café.
Three weeks ago, we found out she’s officially in remission, and she’s been slowly gaining back her strength and energy. But there are good days and bad. And when she’s not caring for Emmeline, she’s sleeping or zoned out in front of the TV.
She’s yet to notice I haven’t come home smelling like French fries and salad dressing—or that the bills that normally pile high on the kitchen table are dwindling one by one as I secretly pay them off.
I don’t think she’d understand this arrangement we have—nor would she understand how much I want to be with him.
“For you.” Nolan hands me a stemless glass filled halfway with white wine. “Shall we toast?”
My stomach flips. We’ve fooled around in his car several times, but we’ve never gotten carried away. He knows I’m a virgin and he knows I want my first time to be special. It’s why he rented this penthouse suite,