“Let me see this,” Jax jokes. “What is so important for you to get out of bed and look at? It better be from your mom.”
He’s smiling and joking, but I can barely crack a smile. My mouth runs completely dry and my lips are chapped.
“Okay, so Danielle says…” His voice trails off. I can’t see what he’s looking at, but I know it’s bad.
“Sophia, who is Ryan?” He turns to me. His voice isn’t accusatory or distant. More like curious.
“Um, Ryan…” I say. I don’t know where to begin or how to explain. This is my secret. My shame. One that I never planned on sharing with Jax. “No one. Not really,” I say.
He stares at me. Then hands me the phone. Reluctantly, I take it.
“Hi, sweetie. I’m coming back to town. Would love to catch up. Love always, Ryan.”
I read the email silently. I don’t know what to do with myself. His words aren’t frightening or scary on the outside, but they cut me to my very core.
“It’s no one.” I toss the phone aside. “No one important.”
“Well, I didn’t think so,” Jax says. “But then I was just witness to the expression on your face. What’s wrong? Who is this guy?”
I shrug. I don’t know how to begin to explain.
“And why is he writing ‘love always’? Is he your old boyfriend?”
I nod. “Yes, he’s just not quite over it.”
This part is true. Ryan McPhee is an old boyfriend. He’s someone I cared a lot about at one time. But that was such a long time ago, I can’t even remember who I was then.
“So, are you going to tell me what’s wrong?” Jax asks. He’s not letting it go. And the more I resist, the worse it’s going to get. And yet, I still can’t find the words to explain.
“Seriously, he’s nobody. Just some old jerk I have no intention of ever contacting again.” I put on a brave face, but it’s no longer just brave. I’m acting the role of someone who’s not really scared. Someone who is powerful and strong and untouchable. I wrap my arms around his neck and kiss him. We fall into bed together again, and I just hope that the passion in our kisses is enough to erase any memory of Ryan.
Chapter 38 - Sophia
When he won’t stop…
Over the next couple of days, I got two additional emails from Ryan. They said basically the same thing, but they scared me just as much. Each email made me more and more nervous. Each email made my blood run cold, if not colder than the one before. The second email also came with an apology.
“Listen, I’m sorry for everything that happened. Let’s make up. Love always.”
The casualness in his tone made me want to rip his eyes out. Who the hell does he think he is? But instead of letting him get a rise out of me, I simply reply.
“Please don’t contact me again.”
I’d debated whether I should’ve written that to Ryan for some time. Each time going back and forth. Changing my mind over and over again. On one hand, it would be good to just ignore him. Completely. Not give him any reply at all. Just pretend that I didn’t get the messages. On the other hand, I thought that asking him to stop might evoke some remaining feelings of humanity left within him. Perhaps, if I’d asked him to stop then he might actually comply with my wishes. Eventually, I did write back and spent the next day agonizing over whether this was the right decision or not. And then another day later, I finally decided to send it.
My thumb hovers over the word ‘Send.’ To send or not to send. That is the question. I press send. And regret the decision almost immediately. My throat closes up. My chest begins to ache. I can’t take a full breath of air.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
My mind goes blank. This can’t be happening.
“Hey, Sophia.” Jax barges into my room. I whip around in the chair and drop the phone. He walks in cautiously and picks up the phone.
“Are you okay? You’ve been kinda off ever since that email.”
I nod. I still don’t know how to tell him the truth. I should, but I can’t.
“I’m fine.” I give him a little peck on the cheek. He deserves a lot more than that, but I just can’t bring myself to show him any attention. Not since I got the emails.
“I’m just a little freaked out about my mom’s wedding,” I lie. I’ve almost entirely forgotten how freaked out I was about her wedding. It scares me, too, but not like this. Nothing scares me as much as this.
“It’s going to be fine.” Jax tries to comfort me. He puts his arms around me. Kisses me. But I can’t reciprocate. I feel like I can’t breathe. Like the world is closing in around me.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asks, looking me straight in the eye. He doesn’t believe what I’m saying. And I don’t think that my body language is any more convincing.
“Please tell me if something’s wrong, Sophia. Things have been off ever since that day. But I get the feeling that it’s not just your mom’s impending nuptials.”
“What do you mean? What are you talking about?” I try to act innocent. My acting is abysmal. My hands get impossibly cold. I can’t even open up my fists to warm them up.
“I just don’t really understand what’s wrong with you. I feel like there’s a lot you’re not telling me.”
“About what? About Ryan?”
Shit. Why did I have to say his name? He probably wasn’t even thinking about him.
“Yes, about Ryan.” Jax crosses his arms across his chest. “I know you better than you think, Sophia. I know when something’s off. You’ve been walking around in a daze around here for days. It’s like you’re afraid of him, or something.”
I’m terrified, I think. But I don’t say a word.
“So, are you?”
“No.” I shake my head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say with a shrug. “Everything’s fine. I’m just feeling a little under the weather, that’s all.”
“But if something is wrong, you’ll tell me, right?” Jax asks.
I nod.
“No, you have to promise me. Out loud,” he says and waits.
I’m not confident that my voice can manage it without giving me away. I take a deep breath.
“I promise,” I say.
Chapter 39 - Jax
When I check on her…
Sophia doesn’t know this, but I check her phone. She had been acting so scared and awkward that I have to find out what else is wrong. I am expecting to see more emails from her mom. But what I find instead makes my heart sink.
Two more emails from that guy Ryan McPhee. Two more emails.
Each email has an apology for what had happened. What?
In each email, he asks Sophia for a chance to see her again. To apologize in person, presumably, but this isn’t stated explicitly.
And the worst thing, each email ends with the same “Love Always, Ryan.”
What does this mean? Who is this Ryan McPhee? And why does the mere mention of him make Sophia so uncomfortable? I try to put myself in her shoes. I have ex-girlfriends, too. Some I like more than others. There might be one or two of them who would freak me out if they ever contacted me and wanted to make amends, but I doubt that I would ever react like she has. Like she is reacting. What is her reaction exactly? A shutdown. But not a quick shutdown with a one swoop motion. Instead, it’s a slow shutting down like the way people die after a long illness. One organ shuts down at a time.
The only thing I can think to do is to look him up on the internet. I googled him last night and came up with a list eighteen pages long of Ryan McPhees, who all live in California. Of course, I don’t even know if he does live in California. That’s just an assumption and one that can easily be wrong. What it seems like from the emails is that he doesn’t live anywhere near her mom’s place, but that’s about as narrow as I can get it. And that, too, is also an assumption.
O is now as big as a house. I can’t tell her this without fearing for my life. She walks briskly, but all of her movements are so exaggerated I som
etimes think that she resembles a clown in a fat suit. I’m not really this immature, of course, I know enough not to mention any of this. It’s just that I’ve never seen a pregnant woman before. Not so up close and personal.
Today, she enters the kitchen with both arms full of groceries and fresh flowers.
“Please take these now, NOW!” she yells. I run over and grab everything from her just in time. The groceries are from the farmers market. So they are all packaged in eco-friendly, recyclable paper bags, which are bulky and awkward to carry.
“You think you got enough groceries?” I ask. O has become obsessed with eating cleanly. No frozen dinners. Nothing with MSG, whatever that is. Nothing processed. She even started to make her own hummus.
“I’m going to make a quiche for dinner tonight,” she announces with a wide smile. I stare at her. I’m still not used to this new and vastly improved version of O. She cooks and cleans and nests as if there’s no tomorrow.
We have yet to talk about her ex. The father of her unborn child. But she has been so friendly, upbeat, and happy ever since Sophia came home from the hospital that I didn’t want to break the spell by bringing him up. Clearly, she wasn’t in the mood to discuss him or she would’ve brought him up herself, I reason. O is never one to shy away from an uncomfortable topic of conversation.
“A quiche, really?” I ask, furrowing my brows. That sounds complicated.
“Yes, really.” She rolls her eyes. I’m sure she knows why I’m surprised. How can I not be? I’ve never seen my sister bake a thing in her life. Up until a few months ago, I doubted that she even knew what an oven was or how to turn it on.
“You’ve really come a long way, O,” I say. I hope that I sound encouraging rather than sarcastic.
“How so?”
“Well, remember how I got you that ‘Microwaving for One’ cookbook for your birthday a few years back? And you told me that you tried making something from it and it was too complicated.”
O bursts into a laugh. Strong and powerful and unashamed. I’m suddenly reminded of my old sister, the one who was never afraid to laugh too loud or dance as if no one was watching.
“I have come a long way since then, haven’t I?”
I nod. “I like this version, though. It’s a good version.”
She smiles and winks. “Me, too.”
“Can I ask you something?” I ask when she starts to lay out all the ingredients for the quiche. I figure it’s as good a time as any.
“Sure, shoot.”
“Sophia got these emails from some guy named Ryan.”
“What kind of emails?”
I tell her everything. She listens carefully as she chops the spinach. She thinks about it for a moment while whipping the eggs.
“No, I don’t believe it’s anything, Jax. That girl loves you. I see it in the way she acts around you.”
I think about that for a second. She’s right. Of course, she’s right. And yet, something in the back of my mind gives me pause.
“I know,” I finally say. “I know. But I’m just not so sure. What if I’m wrong?”
“You’re not wrong.”
“Okay.” I take a deep breath. I didn’t want it to come to this, but I need a second opinion. “Well, that’s why I sent them to myself.”
“You did what?” O’s eyes grow wide.
“She just acted so weirdly. I didn’t think anything at first. But then, I wasn’t so sure. So I sent them to myself when she was in the shower.”
O shakes her head.
“I know, I know. It was a really shitty thing to do, wasn’t it?”
“Kind of. You know, if this turns out to be nothing, then she’ll really feel like you violated her trust.”
“I know.” I hang my head. I feel my shoulders sloping down and taking the whole world with them.
I get my phone out and show her the emails. O reads them carefully. I wait, trying to guess her reaction.
“I don’t know,” she finally says. “This guy, Ryan, sounds desperate, in love maybe. But I still don’t think you have anything to worry about.”
I try to figure out what’s worrying me. I just don’t know.
“The thing is that it’s not even really him or what he says. It’s her reaction. She looked…I don’t know, uncertain? Scared? In some instances, petrified even. She was trembling when she got the first one.”
“Trembling?”
I try to convey exactly what I saw, experienced, but whatever words I find are not enough. There was a lostness to her. A kind of sorrow.
“Maybe she’s just afraid of your reaction to them. Seeing you two together these past few weeks,” O smiles, “you two are getting along so well. You’re so happy. I just don’t think this is anything for you to get jealous over.”
O is trying to be reassuring, but I’m not convinced. On one hand, I know she’s right, of course. But on the other, I’m not so sure. There are other factors in play. Facts that I’m not aware of. And that makes me worried. We are happy. It’s not an act. But the emails, they have to mean something, right? Why else would she react that way?
“How about this?” O puts her hand around my neck. “Why don’t you just ask her?”
“Just ask her?”
“Yeah, what’s the worst that can happen?”
Chapter 40 - Jax
When we go horseback riding…
The following day, Sophia is still acting strangely. I’ve tried to bring the emails up a few times, but the problem is that I’m not supposed to know about the emails. Plural. I’m only supposed to know about one. And I can’t very well accuse her of keeping the others away from me without incriminating myself.
But there’s something else on my mind as well. Sophia and I haven’t had sex since she got Ryan’s first email. She’s trying to act normal, but it doesn’t feel natural. It’s like she’s forcing herself to be friendly. Or maybe it’s just my own feelings being mirrored back to me?
“Want to go horseback riding today?” I ask Sophia, popping into her room after breakfast. I’m not expecting a yes, by any means. I’ve gone horseback riding multiple times without her, and she has avoided going with me for weeks for a variety of reasons. For one, she’s afraid of horses. She can’t even let one smell her hand without recoiling. This isn’t really a good sign, not according to most horse experts. According to lore, only people who are inauthentic are afraid of horses because horses can spot a fake from a mile away.
Another reason is that she’s angry at Sebastian for breaking my legs. They’re not all like Sebastian, of course. For one thing, they’re not all young stallions. I’ve reassured her about this multiple times, but she still won’t step foot into his part of the barn.
“Sure, that will be great,” Sophia says. I look at her, unsure if I heard her correctly.
“What?” I ask. I’ve forgotten the question.
“Let’s go horseback riding.” She smiles. I’m not sure if I believe her.
“Really? Why the sudden change of mind?” I ask her when we are already on our way over to the barn.
“Just looks fun,” Sophia says. There’s a slight hesitation in her voice as if she’s trying to cover something up. But I’m not going to let her back out.
“Hey! Hey!” I hear someone yell behind us. I turn around and see O wobbling toward us. It’s supposed to be a run, but at this point she’s so pregnant that it’s not really a run anymore.
“Hey! Wait up!” she yells when we are already standing still near the barn. When she finally reaches us, her beet-red face sparkles in the sun. She grins from ear to ear.
“Are you okay?” Sophia asks. “What’s wrong?”
“No, nothing,” O says, catching her breath. “Really good news. Just give me a moment.”
We wait in anticipation for her to get a handle on her breathing. She seems to be taking her sweet time.
“I just talked to your mom,” she finally manages. “She’s getting married. Do you know that?”
&
nbsp; Sophia’s face falls. She looks at the ground. There’s a mixture of anger and disappointment building behind her eyes.
Finally, she nods. O doesn’t seem to notice a thing. Excitement flows out of her and she loses her breath again.
“I just talked to her and she’s really into doing a very small wedding. She was actually thinking of eloping, but then she thought about you and how much she wants you to be there.”
“Oh, thanks,” Sophia says sarcastically. “I’m glad that she gave her only daughter at least that much thought.”
“Anyway.” O rolls her eyes. “Danielle and I talked about what she wanted, and she was thinking of going to a courthouse and doing some small dinner in LA. And then I said, why doesn’t she just come to our house?”
“Our house?” The prospect of a wedding at our house scares the hell out of me. “No, no, no, O. Don’t you remember the disaster that was Mom and Dad’s vow renewal ceremony? It took like a year to plan and it occupied the house for nearly a month.”
“Hear me out, Jax.” O puts her hand up.
“What the hell are you doing?” I can’t help but laugh. “Sticking your hand in my face? What is this, the 90s?”
“Okay, sorry. I just need you to hear me out. Sophia! Where are you going?”
I turn around and see that Sophia is already halfway back to the house. I run after her calling her name. O follows slowly behind me.
“Sophia! Wait up!” I grab her arm and spin her around.
“Leave me alone.” Sophia’s crying. Large, round tears are slowly rolling down her face. Her lips are puffy and the lip gloss that had only a minute ago glistened on them has disappeared.
“Where are you going?”
“What does it matter? Leave me alone!”
“Sophia, please,” I try again. But I feel like I’m losing her.
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