Trillion - Winter Renshaw Page 0,25

afternoon, but I won’t hesitate to reschedule them in exchange for some one-on-one time with her.

“I don’t want to get in trouble with my supervisor …”

“Weak excuse.” I huff. “Who’s your supervisor?”

“Barb Scottsman.”

“If Barb so much as thinks of reprimanding you, she’ll find herself in the unemployment line first thing tomorrow.”

“That’s cold.” She huffs as if disgusted. “Is that really how you operate? Like a tyrant child?”

“Like a ruthless businessman.” The crestfallen expression on her face tells me I’m not doing myself any favors, so I add a more flattering, “I’m nothing if not persistent.”

“Noted.”

“Give me the afternoon, Sophie. Spend a few hours with me. If you still don’t see me in a new light, just say so. I’ll never bother you again. We’ll be passing ships in the night, like before.” It’s a risky offer, but I’m confident.

She’s quiet. Contemplative, perhaps.

“Your time is valuable, Trey. Maybe even invaluable. I’d hate for you to waste it on me.”

“I’d hardly call an afternoon with you a waste. Besides, I’ll take my chances.”

Her ocean eyes light, but her expression remains unreadable. I’ve flattered her. I’m positive.

“Where would you take me?” she asks, slow and careful.

“Meet me in thirty minutes outside the west parking garage,” I say. “And you’ll find out.”

Fifteen

Sophie

Past

“What do you want, Soph?” Nolan pulls me into his arms, our naked bodies wrapped in silky sheets. My body reels, electric from head to toe, still pulsing from not one but two massive orgasms he gifted me with tonight.

We’ve been doing this every weekend for the past month—coming to this hotel, locking ourselves away in this very room, making love like the world is ending.

“I don’t know. I was thinking maybe the roasted chicken?” I exhale, staring at the ceiling. “I’d have to look at the room service menu.”

He laughs. “No, I mean, what do you want out of life?”

I’m taken aback, silent. He’s never asked me such a meta question before. And it’s not a question I’ve given much consideration to. With Emmeline’s needs and Mom being sick off and on the last five years, I figured maybe I’d attend a local community college part-time, maybe transition to nursing school—though blood has always made me queasy if I’m being honest. I’m good at math, but what would I do with a math degree? I don’t want to teach. High school isn’t the kind of thing I’d want to repeat in any capacity.

“If you could do anything, be anything …” he continues, “what would that look like?”

Married to him? I laugh to myself. It’s silly to think that far ahead when we’ve only been together such a short time, but a girl can daydream.

I nuzzle against the inside of his arm, roll to my side, and place a palm over his smooth, bare chest. “I just want to be happy.”

His mouth tugs up at the corner. “Can you be more specific?”

I shrug. “I don’t want to have to worry about anything. Like my mom getting sick again. Or who’ll take care of my sister if something happens to one of us.”

“Your sister has muscular dystrophy, yes?”

I nod. I’ve briefed him about it before, never going into too much detail. Most people aren’t familiar with it. There are hundreds of variations, some more severe than others. It’s complex and unique to each person. The details of Emmeline’s condition tend to cause yawns and glazed eyes to anyone who isn’t close to her—which is almost everyone. I tend to give CliffsNotes.

“I know some people who might be able to help her,” he says.

“She’s already seen every specialist in the Chicago area. And there’s no cure for MD. We can only make sure she’s comfortable, able to breathe, that sort of thing.”

“This person’s an old friend of mine from Princeton. He’s a neurologist. Actually specializes in muscular dystrophy. Runs a medical research center in Michigan … I’ll give him a call first thing tomorrow. See what he says.”

“I don’t know if our insurance would cover that ... it barely covers everything as it is.” Just yesterday we got a bill from the pharmacy for five hundred dollars. Emmeline’s insurance magically decided that one of her medications was no longer necessary.

“This wouldn’t cost you a thing. I’d take care of any expenses.”

“Really?” I sit up. “You would do that for her?”

He gathers my hand in his and brings it to his lips. “I’d do anything for you, Soph.”

I want to know why, but for some reason I can’t bring myself to ask. This whole thing is