Fine, there was no rule that said they had to see each other every day.
But this wasn’t about managing a lover’s travel schedule. This was about how he talked to her, how he cared for her, how he tended to her needs. She was so even keeled, so reliable, so fucking wonderful, and he’d taken advantage of that. He hadn’t been attentive to the woman he loved. Understandable, some might say, given the way his day had gone.
But it wasn’t acceptable to him.
Sophie had given him something he thought he’d never have. He had never trusted in love. He’d always believed love could be gunned down. Then she came into his life, and turned everything he believed about himself upside down.
That was the real change in him.
Not his mother’s confession, but Sophie’s love.
Falling in love with Sophie Winston was the most magical, wonderful, intense experience of his life. When everything around him wobbled, Sophie was the constant.
He shut the top of the recycling bin and glanced at his truck. His buzz had worn off. He needed to see her. To tell her she rocked his world, then tell her again and again and again. The only problem was, it was four-thirty in the morning, and he was pretty damn sure her flight left in a few hours.
But so be it.
He’d simply have to drive over there now, and see her before she got on that plane. Kiss her hard before she left. As he walked back into his house, his mind latched onto something she’d told him by his pool the other weekend.
“The things I want from you don’t cost money.”
He turned to Colin, dropped a hand on his shoulder, and said, “Little brother, I need a big favor.”
He explained to Colin and his brother said yes. Then added, “Hell yes.”
Because that was what family did for each other.
He slid open his phone screen and dialed Sophie’s number. It went straight to voicemail. She might even be going through security right now. So he sent her a text.
Then he saw she’d already sent him one.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Shit. Shit. Shit.
Sophie was late.
Sophie was always late.
Sophie was pissed at herself, too, for being so damn late.
Rolling her suitcase behind her like it was a new Olympic event, she ran out of her building at four-thirty in the morning, her sandals flapping against the marble tiled lobby. The car had been waiting for her in the building driveway for fifteen minutes.
“I’m so sorry I’m late,” she told the driver as she slid into the backseat, the night still cloaking the sky.
“Nothing to apologize for, ma’am. I will get you to the airport on time,” he said, shutting the door.
She turned on her phone, tapping her foot as she waited for it to boot up. She needed to send Ryan a note.
Because she’d made a decision.
She’d spent a restless night thinking about whether or not to reach out. She’d tossed and turned, debating whether to give him the space he seemed to need, or to reassure him of how she felt. But then she’d recalled her mother’s advice: “Always talk. Always be honest. Never go to bed angry. Make time for kisses and meals, dance under the stars, and dream together.”
Though she was flying across the ocean, the advice about not going to bed angry still seemed to apply, as well as talking, being honest, and making time for each other. She wanted him to know she was here for him. The reality was, he had a more complicated life than she, and if that was what she was signing up for, he was worth it.
Love was a choice, one that sometimes came with rampant uncertainty.
She might never have stability with him. She might always experience moments, and even days, of pure unsteadiness. But what they shared was worth the risk, the anxiety, and the utter unpredictability of his family life. She’d confronted risk head on as a businesswoman, and surely she could weather the ups and downs in a relationship.
For so long, she’d been seeking what her parents had, that perfect kind of love, with passion, support, and security. But she might not ever have security with Ryan Sloan, and she was going to have to buckle up and enjoy the highs and lows, the thrills and drops of loving that man.
The second her phone warmed up, she tapped out a text. I’ll be thinking of you the whole time I’m gone, and I’ll be looking forward to our rollercoaster ride when I return. Every second of it. Love, always. Your Sophie.
There. Done. Said.
It was enough, and she was choosing to believe in the two of them rather than listen to her own fears.
She was about to tuck her phone into her purse when she found a new message from him, just as the car pulled to the curb at Las Vegas International Airport.
The time on her phone screamed at her. She was really late.
Oh God.
Nerves swamped her. She was dying to read his note, but she needed to get inside. Now.
Jamming her phone into her purse, she raced to baggage check-in, then on to the TSA pre-screen, making it through security without having to slip off her shoes.
Safely on the other side, she took out her phone.
Opened the message.
And burst into a wild, wicked, happy grin.
I meant it when I said I can’t stay away from you.
She spun around, hunting for him, half expecting to see him. He wasn’t there, of course. But that was okay. He’d sent this beautiful note. He’d reached out.
These words were all she needed before she left the country—the reassurance that they were fine. After rushing to her gate, she showed her boarding pass to the agent and headed onto the plane, taking her seat in first class in the second row.
From the cool and comfort of her cushy gray leather chair, she started a reply. She stopped typing when she spotted someone standing by her row. Her skin prickled with awareness, just like it had at Aria. Before she even confirmed with her eyes, her body knew.
Her gaze roamed up the jeans, the trim waist, the pullover shirt, the day-old stubble, the soft lips, the nose, the navy blue eyes, the golden brown hair.
The face of the man she adored. Her heart danced in mad circles, like a wild bird.
“You’re here,” she said, stating the obvious.
He gestured to the seat next to her. “This may be presumptuous of me, but is this seat taken?”
She patted it. “Would you like this seat?”
He looked at his watch. “For the next twelve hours, yes.”
“It’s yours.”
He sat down, and didn’t say a word. He placed a hand on her cheek, pulled her gently to him, and breathed her name as if it were his oxygen. “Sophie.”
The way he said it sounded like a poem, like a love song. He swept his lips over hers. She shivered. She shuddered. She soared.
“Hi,” he said when he broke the kiss.
“Hi.” She was on cloud nine. She was floating high above the earth and she didn’t want to come down.
“Do you want company for your trip?”
“I want your company.”
“Good, because I took the liberty to buy a ticket.”
“I can tell. But is this really your seat?”
“Mine’s one row up. When the person who has this seat shows, I’ll convince him or her to swap.” He looked her square in the eyes as he ran a finger over her cheek. “You once told me the things you want from me don’t cost money. Well, the ticket cost money, but that’s beside the point. The point is you told me that you wanted to go for a ride together in your new car. And I’d like to go with you.”
She arched an eyebrow. “You’re joining me for the car?”
He shook his head. “I’m here for the girl,” he said, his voice so sexy, so certain, so full of passion.
Her eyes fluttered closed momentarily and happiness rushed through all the highways inside her body, infusing her heart and soul with joy. When she opened her eyes, she asked, “Are you taking off work for the whole time?”