On the surface, he was talking about Everett's grandfather, Winthrop Monroe, and the choice he made decades before. How he willingly gave up friendship for love. Barbara was so close to being a Harman herself until Winthrop swept her off her feet and she called off her engagement to Henry. Everett was sure it would be the version Austin would tell—the betrayal sparking a feud and burning the bond between rival families. And of course, beyond the surface, the whole sliding in on someone else's bride comment, wasn't lost on him. But Sophia was no longer Austin's bride.
The stories weren't old. Babs warned Everett against the red fire blazing in Austin's eyes now. She said she saw it in Henry, and in Joseph, Everett's father—the anger and the greed-fueled need for revenge.
Babs’s choice was the same as Sophia’s. She would have to choose: money or love. Or rather, house or love.
Everett's level tone and his volume teetered along with his restraint. "Maybe, but we're not our fathers, and we're certainly not our grandfathers." His neck thickened beneath the pressure of his clenched jaw and tense shoulders. "So why don't we just draw the line in the sand here? She doesn't want you here, and that’s all there is to it."
As Sophia squared her body to Austin, he backed away from the door without breaking his stare. Everett stood directly behind her and settled his hands on her shoulders, caressing and massaging them.
They were finally a unified front facing their common enemy.
Austin glared as he watched Everett's hands moving rhythmically over Sophia's body, but then the mystified look transformed into amusement. "Oh, shoot!" He fisted his hand and blew into the small hold his curved fingers made. Laughter pinched at his brow and his face reddened. "This just keeps getting better and better by the second. John? I see you're still enjoying my leftovers."
Sophia's eyes widened. At first, Everett assumed she was outraged by Austin's reference to her as a leftover.
Nope, and the implication of the word "still" made it seem like this had happened more than once. But then the rims of her eyes filled and her lips quivered.
"What, baby? He's an asshole. Don't listen to him," Everett pleaded with her.
"Bottom of the barrel, huh, Soph? You're so weak. I knew you were nothing without me." Austin shook his head and continued snickering, nourishing the doubt he’d planted with sly sublety. “I’m sure he’ll leave you soon, too, just like I did—if he’s smart. Like your father did. But, I don’t know…”
She swallowed, seeming to bite back emotion. "John? Why does he keep calling you that? Tell him it's not your name. Tell me John is not your fucking name." Her words caught on her breath as she blinked repeatedly, waiting for the truth.
"Baby? I love this." Austin was relentless at his taunting, throwing gasoline on the deteriorating situation.
"Actually, I've been meaning to—"
"Actually what? Your name is Everett." Sophia stepped away from him, and he reached for her, but she jerked away, looking at both of them like they were one and the same. Like they were both monsters.
"How about I introduce you two? Sophia Harman—"
"It's Kent," she said through the tears now freely flowing. "I gave the name back in the divorce too, if you recall."
"Okay." Austin shook his head lightly and smirked as if to say, whatever. It doesn't matter either way. "If you insist. Sophia Kent meet John Everett Monroe, the man who's going to take this house away from you. Can't blame me for this one, I'm just taking my cue from you guys."
Sophia's shoulders deflated and her chin dropped to her chest. "John E. Monroe."
Austin threw his hands up in the air, washing his hands clean of the shitstorm he created. With a theatrical spin, he pivoted and walked away.
This was his intention all along, and Everett and Sophia played right into his hands. He was right. It just kept getting better and better for him. The outcome would have been the same for Austin either way, but they added the cherry on top by falling in love.
"Tell me it's not true," she whispered through her tears.
"I was going to tell you. You have to believe me," Everett said. But his answer was weak even to his own ears. His voice was uneven and shaken. "This was my grandmother's house. The Harmans stole it from her. For years, they've been searching for a way to retaliate for her leaving Henry, they knew she was suffering from dementia, and they tricked her into signing over the deed to them. I'm just sorry you ended up in the middle of this mess. You have to believe me. Sophia, I love you."
"It all makes sense now." Her voice was just above a whisper. She was talking more to herself than to Everett—her attention fixed on something in the distance. "I should have known. All of it was right there in front me, and I was too weak, too stupid to pay attention to the clues. Barbara 'Babs’s Monroe. Her early onset dementia. Monroes and Harmans. The family feud. Mike working for Monroe Properties, your real estate development company," She mumbled.
"You're not making sense, sweetheart."
"It makes perfect sense. You were at my door serving me the papers for the hearing. You've known this wh-whole time." There was a catch in her throat, but the accusation in her tone was unmistakable. "You let me fall for you and cry on your shoulder while you listened to everything I've been through. I met your family, and I thought we really were something worth all the pain, but you were lying all along. It was all a lie."
The knots in Everett's stomach tightened. The thought of Sophia believing what they shared was anything less than a miracle, a gift, crushed him.
"Please don't say it." He ran his hands over his hair and pressed his palms against his temples. He’d never felt so helpless and afraid. His heart hammered against his ribcage and he couldn't catch his breath. "I love you so much. I just didn't know how to tell you about the house. This doesn't change anything about how I feel about you. Please, Sophia."
She swiped at her tears and looked at him.
The ocean in her eyes was calm as a tremble ran over her.
He recognized the look, broken and betrayed. He'd been there too many times to count. He could feel the shards of his shattered heart cutting him from the inside out as she held the door. When Everett set foot out onto the porch, she inhaled, standing taller as she centered herself in the frame.
Then she uttered the words with the power to cut the deepest.
"I don't ever want to see you again," she said, and slammed the door in his face.
* * *
Sophia was nine movies deep in a forty-eight-hour Netflix horror movie marathon. Granted, the bloodshed on some of them was a little much, even for her, but their logic comforted her. To be precise, three logical steps.
One: there were no happy endings. Right now, happiness equated to tears, and fear was better than bawling herself into a catatonic state.
Two: if there was any sex in it, it was mostly B movie bumping and grinding, and they ended up getting killed off almost instantly.
And three: she was too scared to move, which basically justified her unwillingness to relocate from the couch.
"Oh, don't go in there," she yelled at the TV as she carved out another heaping spoonful of double scoop Strawberry Cheesecake ice cream and stuffed it in her face. As the tangy sweetness melted, she shook her head at the woman who decided waiting for her boyfriend in the Jacuzzi was a good idea.
Nestled into a comfy corner of the couch, Sophia was warm from the heat of the fireplace and the mound of blankets clouded around her, but the cold of the ice cream balanced into a feeling of coziness.
"Open your damn eyes, idiot. It's not Tyler," she screamed at the bikini-clad woman on the screen as she finally took note of the callused, bloody fingers on her wet skin. Surprisingly, she was able to get out of the water.
"Run!" Sophia continued to yell. She was fully aware this was a movie, the filming wrapped, thus allowing her to watch it on the couch in three-day-old, slightly dingy fluorescent pink Lily pajamas. But she did not reserve one-sided TV talk just for movies. Jeopardy, Friends re-r
uns and reality shows were not exempt. Her TV-talking skills were long since honed as an only child, then as a woman in an empty marriage, and now after a post-betrayal breakup.
"Not toward the woods. Oh, my gosh. Seriously? Go ahead and fall while you're at it."
As if on cue, the woman tripped over a teensy mound of ground cover. Pretty much grass and flat dirt. And somehow the magic bathing suit miraculously managed not to reveal even a nipple despite all the woman’s running and falling. Sophia burrowed into the blanket, peeking through her fingers. Sure enough, the masked murderer caught up with bikini girl in no time flat. Maybe it’s because she was running around in circles? He hovered over her and took equally slow steps forward as she crawled backward.
The second he cranked the machete up over his head Sophia braced herself. It was either going to be an ear-to-ear slice like Tyler, a watermelon whack over the head, or the hang out to dry gut-drop. She slid down into the covers a few more inches. Her eyes widened and her heartbeat thudded in her ears as she held her breath.
“Please don't hurt me. Please. I'm begging you,” the woman pleaded—as if he’d brought the blood-smeared machete to slice cold cuts.
Just when Sophia thought he was going to go watermelon on her, he leaned down and grabbed her by the ponytail, hauling her up in the air. Gut-drop? Really?
He brandished his machete right next to her as the woman reached for his mask.
Then the robotic, adenoidal chirping of Aqua’s song, Barbie Girl burst into the air.
Sophia screamed and yanked her covers up over her head when she heard the music. She jumped to her feet, bouncing on the sofa cushions as she looked around. Her phone buzzed and rang with her cousin's ringtone.
"Not now, Jules. Not now. It's Kevin Killian." She pointed at the screen, jumping frantically. "Kevin fucking Killian is the Machete Man," she yelled to the phone as it danced across the tabletop. "I knew it."
After a few seconds the ringing stopped. Killian dragged the lifeless redhead's body to his shed just as the virgin who'd been hiding in the attic opened her eyes. Then, buzz. Buzz.
Ugh. Barbie Girl’s world again.
"Your timing is the worst. What?" Sophia snapped into the phone, while she craned to keep her eyes on the TV. Her voice trembled with both fear and irritation as the virgin stepped on a squeaky floorboard. "I'm busy."
"Seriously? What are you even doing? You can't hide from your family."
It was true. Though the truth wouldn’t stop Sophia from trying, even knowing it was futile. They were going to descend upon her eventually.
Sophia sighed and plopped down onto the couch, burrowing back under the covers. "I'm not hiding from you guys. I'm hiding from Machete Man." She could still see a blurred version of the action through the threads.
A series of beeps sounded in her ear. She held out the phone to look at it. "I don't want to FaceTime right now," she said, putting the phone back to her ear, but the beeping continued.
"Well, I guess we'll just have to talk with the sound in the background."
She didn't doubt for a second her cousin would keep sending the request until one of them hung up...or got annoyed enough to press the green button.
"Fine." She huffed. As soon as Julie's face appeared, she regretted accepting the request.
In the top right corner, there was Sophia, looking like who did it and why, while her cousin looked like a dewy-cheeked, doe-eyed, face-wash model. The kind with splashing water and eyebrows somehow remaining unrealistically tamed—the after picture with the added bonus of a fun-sized “before” image tucked in the corner. Just peachy.
Julie let her hair grow back out, but her mane looked voluminous and shiny, and her trademark bale of curls waterfalled over the top of the chair. Her skin was a warm bronze like she'd been basking out in the sun. And to top it all off, she was glistening with pre-wedding glow.
Not a stitch of makeup, naturally beautiful. But still, naturally, attitudy.
Sophia mimicked her pursed lips and pinched brow, failing to look as pensive and appealingly pouty since her lips weren't as full.
"Show me," Julie demanded.
The pale green walls of Aunt Marian's house filled the background behind her. She was sitting in her dad's recliner watching TV, too. The volume was low, but over the murder and mayhem on her own screen, Sophia could barely hear it... “Rory and Lorelai?” She ignored the bossy “show me” demand. Talk about calling the kettle black. "Are you freaking watching Gilmore Girls?"
"Yes."
Sophia shook her head, rolling her eyes. "Not even going to try to deny it. Gah, you're such a nerd."
"Takes one to know one." She stuck out her tongue. "And where are you?" She narrowed her eyes at the phone and leaned in closer. "What are you doing? Are you—"
"Under the covers. Yes. I'm still in my pajamas, eating ice cream under the covers, watching horror movies. Or at least I was when you rudely interrupted me."
"So, you look like shit, you probably stink to high hell, and you're moping, right?"
Before she could answer, Julie stopped and seemed to consider something. "Wait a minute. You said ice cream. What flavor?"
Chapter Seventeen
"Strawberry Cheesecake," Sophia said, sinking deeper into the couch cushions. Strawberry Cheesecake was the dead giveaway. She could have gotten the movie marathon past Julie, but the ice cream? No. Not a chance with that flavor.
When the door rang earlier, Sophia made it through the messy living room obstacle course in record time, hurdling shoes and empty Chinese cartons and pizza boxes. Blessed be, she could have just hugged the GrubHub delivery guy, who, for the love of God, skipped the greetings and small talk and just gave her the ever-lovin’ ice cream.
She hadn’t seen another human being in days, apart from the army of delivery people from varying fast food restaurants. It was lazy and expensive, but the world was too people-y. Cats, dogs, anything with fur (other than rats) would have been fine, but she didn't have pets, and even they reminded her of Blue, who in turn reminded her of Everett. Just thinking of him reminded her of his thick, hard cock and her thighs clenched at the memory of him filling her so completely.
Wham! Dead-end road.
She simply could not go down that road, or, as a matter of self-preservation, any other roads.
Lord, I miss him.
Some body parts more than others, though. Just because Everett was gone didn't mean she wasn't horny as all get-out. She practically jumped the Amazon delivery guy's bones, and he wasn't even cute. The decision just made sense. It was best if she quarantined herself from anything with a penis, or anything remotely sunny and chipper.
Anything other than ice cream.
"Oh no. It's Strawberry Cheesecake bad? It's barely been a month."
Sophia nodded, feeling the lump—which she'd managed to keep at bay one jump-scare at a time—rising up in her throat again. With the exception of Mom via FaceTime, who insisted on checking on her every hour on the hour, she might as well have been on her own deserted island. Exactly where she wanted to be. Alone.
She'd already told Julie about everything. Everett, the house, Austin, her inevitable move back to Vegas if the hearing went the way she thought it would. Julie understood why this house meant so much to her, to Ainsley.
"Show me," Julie said again with much more urgency this time. "I want to see everything." Sophia fumbled out from under the blanket, pointing the phone toward her wasteland, she added, "Steady."
She suspected Julie's eyes widened with shock, though she was decent enough not to say what she clearly was thinking, based the stark silence. Her voice was level and measured, like she was dealing with a child. "Now pan the room."
The glow of the phone highlighted strewn clothes, piles of shoes scattered where she toed them off, and dirty dishes and cups covering the gaps on the table not filled by the litter of half-eaten fast food trash.
Sophia’s heart dropped.
When she brought the screen b
ack to face her, she saw it in Julie's eyes. "I'm coming up there for the hearing tomorrow."
"No." Sophia's voice cracked. "I need to do this by myself. You shouldn't have to worry about me. You should be doing wedding stuff like revenge seating charts and Blacktalian (black and Italian) music playlists, last-minute emergency cake tastings. Not dealing with my—"
"Your what, your life? Everything else can wait. I'm not getting married tomorrow, Soph. Stop acting like you don't need anyone. Like you have to be so strong. What do you think I'm here for? What we're all here for." Julie dropped her chin and when she lifted it again, her teary eyes met Sophia's.
"You don't have to do this by yourself, you know? You have family, a whole army of us who care about you, so don't do this alone. Let us be there for you this time."
This time. That time. Next time?
The thought of there being another betrayal wrapped a vise grip around what was left of her heart. She wasn't sure she would even make it through this time. Losing Ainsley felt like a wildfire cleared away all signs of life, leaving her barren with nothing but ashen memories.
But then she went somewhere new and did something different. She met Everett, who made things bloom and flower again. He rained down on her roots and gave her the sun. She’d felt so alive and wild and full.
It wasn't like she could forget about her angel baby. This was just so much different. With Everett it was like she was reminded of the possibilities. Of maybe one day making a new life, this time rooted in love.
Losing him after everything she went through...this time Sophia knew she wouldn't recover. There was no coming back from the desolate truth.
* * *
Twenty-seven minutes and thirty-four seconds.
It took less than a half hour for the hearing to run its course.
You would think after all the weeks and months of man hours Everett spent on this one house, he would have felt an intense sense of relief to have it done and over with—the word “finally” loose on his tongue.
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