Trillion - Winter Renshaw Page 0,43
we’re there yet.”
“Then we’ll fake it until we make it …”
She yawns. “I told my mom about … us.”
“What’d she say?”
“She wasn’t thrilled. But I told them they could meet you this weekend.”
“I’m actually going to Seattle this weekend …”
“Oh. I didn’t know.”
“Of course not. I hadn’t mentioned it yet. I was going to ask you to join me. I’ll be working most of the time, but you can explore the city and we’ll reconvene at night,” I say. “The following weekend, I’d be happy to meet your mother and sister.”
Sophie yawns. “Sounds good …”
“So you’ll come?” I ask. “On the trip?”
“Sure …” she’s checked out, giving into the day’s exhaustion. It’s easy to forget that not everyone crams a million life-altering decisions into their day and sleeps like a baby at night.
A minute later, she rolls to her side, covers pulled just beneath her chin. I could reach across the bed and feel her warmth, and yet she couldn’t be more untouchable.
Twenty-Eight
Sophie
Past
“Your mother called me today,” Nolan says.
“What?” My stomach sinks. She had to have gone through my phone when I was sleeping to get his number. She’s never done anything like that before. Then again, I’ve never given her a reason not to trust me until recently.
“She doesn’t want us to be together. She thinks I’m using you.” He scoffs. “You know I’m not using you, Soph. Right?”
“God, yes.” I climb into his lap and kiss him to prove that I know.
His eyes examine mine in the dark.
“Don’t listen to her,” I say. “My dad broke her heart. She’s worried you’re going to break mine.”
“I would never.” He cradles my face in the warmth of his palms, a light trail of cologne wafting from his wrists.
I breathe him in. “I know.”
“I promised her I’d take care of you.”
“What’d she say?”
“She hung up on me.”
I laugh. That sounds exactly like something she’d do. Whenever she’s upset about something, silence is her primary response. Sometimes it’s a relief, knowing the argument is over. Other times it’s terrifying, wondering what she might be thinking or if it’s tearing her up inside.
There’s more weight in the things people don’t say than what they do say.
“Don’t let her get to you,” I tell him. “I’m an adult. She can’t tell me who to be with.”
He rolls me to my back, pinning me beneath him. His hardness presses between my thighs as he kisses my neck. “Enough about her.”
If he doesn’t care, then I won’t either.
Tonight, it’s us against the world.
Twenty-Nine
Sophie
Present
The Westcott mansion comes to life shortly before sunrise the next morning. The scent of coffee and eggs permeate the air the closer I get to the hustle and bustle of the kitchen. When I pass the main foyer, a woman in a gray uniform arranges a fresh assortment of flowers in an oversized vase. I offer her a nod and a quiet, “Good morning.” She nearly does a double take before offering me the same.
I get the sense Trey isn’t the closest with his staff. The way he’s always coming and going probably leaves little time for small talk or pleasantries.
I won’t be like that.
Trey woke over an hour ago, leaving me to sleep, nestled deep in the silky, imported linens tousled across the vast expanse of his enormous bed as he hit the shower and selected a dark gray suit and silky black tie from his closet.
I read in a Westcott newsletter interview once that he doesn’t like patterns or busyness when he dresses for work. They distract him, pull him away from his zone. I’m sure there’s a whole world of particulars when it comes to him. And with time, I’ll become familiar with them.
One of his staffers is supposed to give me a tour today, taking me to the fourth floor, which I’ve yet to see, except for the night he took me to the conservatory.
“Coffee, Ms. Bristol?” One of the housekeepers asks when I wander into the butler’s pantry. I was going to help myself, hoping to stay out of their way. But if she’s offering …
“Yes, please,” I say. “Thank you.”
“Mr. Westcott takes his in the drawing room,” she says. “He’ll be in shortly.”
I don’t know where that is …
As if sensing my hesitation, she points behind me. “Fourth door on the left, just down that hall. Do you take cream and sugar?”
“A little of both would be perfect. Thank you so much,” I say before adding, “I don’t think I caught your name?”
Her eyes sparkle. She reminds