Reprieve (Love's Second Chance Book 1)

by Scott,Scarlett

  For the second time that morning, Sophie’s jaw went slack. “You’re telling me that your boss is the father of your baby?”

  Claire nodded miserably, then promptly burst into tears.

  Sophie could not have been more stunned if a spaceship landed in her kitchen right then and there and green aliens filed out to introduce themselves. It seemed impossible that cool, unflappable, perfect Claire had done something so, well, imperfect. Claire had led a charmed life, from her handsome, wealthy husband, to her mansion in a posh Philadelphia suburb. She’d had it all—gardener, maid, cook, designer clothes, and the finest cars. Everything, it now appeared, but happiness and fulfillment. And yet still, as disillusioned as Claire had become, Sophie could scarcely believe her sister would stray from the bonds of marriage, particularly with her arrogant boss.

  More worried than ever, Sophie rose and perched on the edge of the sofa, leaning down to sweep Claire into a hug. “I thought you hated him.”

  “I do,” Claire said in between sobs, her tone wretched.

  Sophie stiffened, pulling back to look into her sister’s face. “Did he take advantage of you?”

  “Not at all. Maybe that’s the worst part. Either that or the guilt, even though I shouldn’t feel guilty after what Garrett did. But I took our marriage vows very seriously until that weekend. I still don’t know what came over me. Now look at the mess I’ve gotten myself into.”

  “Turnabout is fair play, so you shouldn’t feel guilty,” Sophie said fiercely. Garrett was going to get an earful from her the next time she saw him. He had nerve, making Claire so miserable. “Besides, there’s a way to find the positive in every situation.”

  Claire groaned. “What am I going to do, Soph?”

  “Are you going to go through with the pregnancy?” Sophie asked hesitantly.

  A frown marred Claire’s perfect features. “It seems like an impossible situation. But somehow, this baby feels right in spite everything.”

  “Then that’s all you need to know. The rest will come.” She inwardly vowed to help her sister in every way she could. Raising a child was not for the faint of heart.

  “God I hope so,” Claire said fervently. “I’m so afraid. Garrett has been more his old self lately and sometimes I find myself wanting to go back to the way things were. But that’s impossible now.”

  “Does Garrett know?”

  “I haven’t figured out how to tell him yet.” Claire laid her head back against the pillow, closing her eyes. “I’m so tired all the time. I’ve quickly come to the conclusion that being pregnant is a totally miserable experience.”

  Sophie thought back to her pregnancy, one of the happiest times in her life. She would describe it as wonderful, awe-inspiring, incredible, and humbling. But miserable? Never. Then again, she’d been lucky, not suffering through any morning sickness at all.

  “It gets better,” Sophie promised her. “Just give it some time.”

  Claire raised a brow at her. “Easy for you to say. You weren’t puking your brains out the whole time you were pregnant.”

  Sophie chuckled at her sister’s dry comment. “I know. But in my defense, I was plagued by the most bizarre food cravings. I remember how hungry I used to get for toast. I would have it with breakfast, lunch and dinner.”

  Claire looked at her oddly. “I remember that.”

  “What? Why do you have that strange expression on your face?”

  “Nothing. It’s just that you should have seen yourself devouring my toast earlier. It reminded me of when you were pregnant with Elizabeth.”

  Oh God.

  An odd sensation Sophie could not define rose within her. How could she have been that stupid? She’d been fretting over Claire’s sex life when she was guilty of even worse sins. The condom she and Trevor used had broken. She was late. She hadn’t even spared the possibility of pregnancy a thought since the morning after. It had been just one time. She and Peter had tried for months to conceive before she’d become pregnant with Elizabeth.

  Dear God. Pregnancy was definitely possible, however remote and unlikely it had seemed.

  Claire was watching her very closely. Too closely for Sophie’s comfort. “There’s no chance that you could be—”

  “No,” Sophie interrupted. “I don’t think so.”

  But her mind was frantically calculating. When was the last time she’d had her period? Not since before going to Winstead Island with Trevor. She’d been so preoccupied with her feelings for him and her painting that she hadn’t spared a thought for anything else. Breaking things off with him had proved especially difficult for her. Now it seemed she could well have overlooked the obvious.

  “You don’t sound very certain,” Claire pointed out.

  That’s because she wasn’t. But she didn’t want to burden Claire with anything else until she was absolutely positive. “I’m sure that I’m not,” she lied. “Is there anything you need? I really should be getting to the library now.”

  Her sister gave her a shrewd look. “Maybe you should call in sick today, too, Soph. You’ve been overworking yourself lately.”

  It was true Sophie had thrown herself back into both painting and working at the library, largely to preoccupy herself. But she needed the constant feeling of having something to do, anything as long as it kept her mind off Trevor. She stood, bending down to press a kiss to Claire’s cheek.

  “I have to go. But if you need anything, call me.”

  “Okay,” Claire replied, still aiming a look at Sophie that said loudly and clearly their conversation was not at an end.

  Mind still whirling with possibilities, Sophie left for work.

  Biting her lip in concentration, Sophie dipped her brush into some brown-hued paint, then delicately added it to her canvas in sweeping strokes.

  “Better,” she murmured to herself, critically eying the landscape she was in the process of bringing to life.

  Yellow came next, adding to the buttery-soft sunlight filtering through the puffy white clouds dotting the horizon. A touch of blue here to give the sky greater depth. A hint more green to the luscious-looking vegetation.

  “There.” She eyed the product of her labors with great satisfaction. “Finished.”

  It was Winstead Island, all the beauty and the magic of it, staring back at her. Sophie hadn’t taken any pictures of the scenery during her short trip there, but it didn’t matter. Her artist’s mind could recall in tremendous detail nearly any place, person, or event in her life. She soaked up the color, texture, even the scent, so she could express as much of the true scene as possible to her viewer.

  With a flourish, she signed her name in the corner, then glanced at her watch. Marcus Wesley would be arriving any minute now to pick up her latest group of works. Always Marcus, never Trevor. He’d been true to his word in putting distance between them. She had not seen him since that awful day three months ago. But his beautiful face still haunted her every waking and sleeping hour.

  Finally, driven by the need to exorcise him from her soul, Sophie had painted him, painted him as she saw him in her mind. Sexy, brooding, standing on a sand dune in the middle of Winstead Island with the breeze rippling his hair.

  But as remedies went, it had been more like a placebo. She still was not quite certain why she had sent the painting to him. God knew sending it had not been an easy decision for her. But it was hardly the only difficult choice she’d been forced to make.

  Like finding peace in letting go of Peter and Elizabeth. It had been a long time coming, but that simple fact did not facilitate the process one bit. Then again, letting go was never easy. Sophie knew that like she knew the back of her hand.

  No, the past three months had not been easy. But necessary they had been. Breaking up with Trevor had proved a catalyst for her. It had made her take a good, hard look at her life. Trevor’s harsh words to her had been a litany in her mind and she’d had to acknowledge he was right. Spending her life in a cemetery wasn’t an option. Peter and Eliz
abeth would not want that for her and remaining despondent wasn’t doing her any good.

  Maybe she’d been hiding behind their memories, she realized now, too afraid to move on with her life. Too afraid to live again, to love again. And she had been falling in love with Trevor, hopelessly, desperately so. Her guilt had stopped her from taking that blind leap of faith and diving in headfirst, that and a misplaced sense of loyalty.

  The only problem was she had discovered all this too late for it to make a difference between them. He was hurt and angry, rightfully so. Maybe he had already forgotten her.

  The thought sent a pang straight to her heart.

  “Knock knock,” said a familiar masculine voice from the doorway of her studio.

  She swiveled on her stool to find Marcus hovering on the threshold, grinning. A smile tugged at her lips in response. Marcus Wesley was gorgeous, hilarious, and personable, a rare combination in a man. He was extraordinarily easy to like and Sophie had grown fond of him over the course of the past few weeks.

  “I hope you don’t mind the intrusion,” he said easily. “Your sister let me in.”

  “Not at all. Come in,” she invited, hopping down from her stool to greet him. “It’s good to see you again.”

  “And you.” He glanced down at her multicolored hands. “Decided to give finger-painting a try today, did you?”

  A laugh escaped her. “I’m a very involved painter.”

  He arched a brow at her. “I’d say so. How have you been, sweetheart?”

  “As well as can be expected. I have five finished canvases right over here, if you want to take a look.” She made her way to the corner of the room where she had her finished paintings neatly organized in a wooden rack. “More landscapes, I’m afraid. I hope you don’t mind.”

  Marcus bent down and pulled the first painting from its place, holding it up for his inspection. “Incredible, Sophie. They’ll absolutely love it. Which reminds me that I’ve wanted to discuss something with you for quite some time now.”

  Sophie tried to stem the tide of worry that flooded her. Was it something about Trevor?

  “What is it?” Her mind spun with the possibilities.

  “Trev and I like to throw galas for our new artists,” Marcus began. “We usually do it the day their work debuts, but your case was rather exceptional.”

  Sophie had a feeling she knew where this was headed. “I don’t need a gala, Marcus. Things are fine as they are.”

  “Yes,” he said firmly, “you do. Our customers have been dying for a chance to meet the elusive Sophie Olsen. They love your work, so it’s only natural. It’s our duty and yours to give them what they want.”

  “No.” Sophie gave her head a vigorous shake. “I don’t want that, Marcus. I can’t come to New York, not right now.”

  And not ever, she concluded silently, not as long as Trevor lived there.

  But Marcus wasn’t about to take no for an answer. “We’ll do it on a weekend, on a date of your choice. I’d be happy to cover all your travel expenses. It will be one evening where you get dressed up, drink champagne, and schmooze the clients. Let them tell you how great your work is. That’s it.”

  “No,” she said again. “I can’t, Marcus. That’s not my sort of thing.”

  “Three weeks from now. How does that sound?”

  “No.”

  “Two weeks would be pushing it, but if you feel the need to get it out of the way, then I suppose I can arrange it.”

  “No, Marcus.”

  “He’s miserable without you, Sophie.”

  Sophie swallowed, trying to tamp down the leap of hope that rose in her heart. “I don’t want to see him, Marcus and he doesn’t want to see me.”

  “Not true,” Marcus said stubbornly. “But you can feel free to ignore him at the gala.”

  Exasperated, Sophie clamped her hands on her hips. “No. I’m not going. There won’t be a gala. Forget about it.”

  Marcus sighed. “Don’t make me do this, Sophie.”

  “Do what?”

  His eyes grew very serious as they bored into hers. “If you refuse to do the gala, I’ll drop your work from the Gallery.”

  Sophie sucked in a startled breath. “Why would you do that?”

  “Believe me when I say that I’m only trying to help you. But if I have to, I’ll drop your paintings in a heartbeat.”

  Sophie could read the truth of it in his eyes. Stubborn man. What could possibly be gained by her taking a trip to New York and seeing Trevor, reopening wounds best left to heal on their own? Nothing, as far as she could see. But if she wanted to continue selling her paintings, finally gaining the audience she’d always dreamed of, it seemed that she had to go along with Marcus’ wishes.

  “Fine,” she said. “I’ll do your ridiculous gala. But make it one week. I’d rather get it over with as soon as possible.”

  Marcus grinned and dropped a kiss on her cheek. “I knew you’d see reason.”

  It started as an ordinary day, just the same as any other midsummer weekday. Sophie made her customary morning tea, decaffeinated Lady Grey with three tablespoonfuls of sugar to satisfy her sweet tooth. The steaming cup had been accompanied by four deliciously crispy pieces of toast slathered in mouthwatering butter. Claire had skipped breakfast, per usual of late, looking pale but beautiful as she ventured into the kitchen in her camel-colored business suit. Sophie peered around the newspaper to greet her sister with a smile.

  “Morning,” she offered around a mouthful of toast.

  Claire frowned at her, delving into the fridge for the orange juice carton. “More toast?”

  “Mmm,” Sophie agreed, popping another bite of the scrumptious stuff into her mouth. She just couldn’t seem to get enough of it.

  Claire poured herself a glass of juice, then sat at the table across from Sophie.

  “I know this isn’t any of my business, but…” Claire hesitated, seemingly uncertain of how to proceed. “Are you one hundred percent certain that you couldn’t be you-know-what?”

  “No. I mean yes.” She couldn’t face the possibility she might be pregnant. That the one amazing night she had spent with Trevor could have resulted in something more than her losing her heart to him.

  Dear God, what would that mean for her?

  “Is it possible, Soph?” Claire asked softly.

  Sophie met her sister’s earnest gaze and could not lie. “Yes.”

  More than possible, it was probable. Ever since Claire’s revelation of her own pregnancy, Sophie had been wondering constantly in the far recesses of her mind whether or not she too could be carrying a child. Her periods had never been regular and with all the stress in her life, they had grown more infrequent. She tried to convince herself it was nothing more than a fluke. Lord knew it was not what she had planned, not what she needed right now.

  Or was it? A tiny voice inside her kept insistently prodding her to acknowledge that a baby, Trevor’s baby, would be incredible.

  “Did you see a doctor?” Claire took a delicate sip of her orange juice.

  “No. I have an appointment this afternoon.”

  Sophie knew instinctively it would only confirm her suspicions. What she didn’t know was what in the world she would do. Would she tell Trevor? Would she raise the baby on her own? Was she ready for a baby so soon after the tragedy?

  Ah, but it wasn’t precisely soon, was it? she reminded herself. Peter and Elizabeth had been gone for two years and Sophie finally knew the time had come to move forward.

  Claire patted Sophie’s arm. “Do you want me to take off work and come with you?”

  Touched by her sister’s thoughtfulness and obvious concern, Sophie nodded. “I’d like that.”

  “Then it’s done,” Claire assured her.

  The remainder of the morning and the early afternoon passed in a blur for Sophie. Her mind was too preoccupied with thoughts of Trevor and the baby that could possibly be growing inside her.

  Would he or she have Trevor’s gol
den eyes or Sophie’s blue, Trevor’s black hair or Sophie’s brown? Her nose or Trevor’s? A boy or a girl? Sophie turned the questions over endlessly in her mind. The baby she’d been ignoring for three months had suddenly become impossible to overlook.

  After a stint at the library that was fuzzy around the edges, Sophie was relieved when it came time to leave for her appointment. Claire met her in the parking garage and they walked into the doctor’s office building together.

  Sophie tensed as they made their way through the marble-floored, fern-fringed lobby. The clinical scent that invariably permeates any doctor’s office assaulted her nostrils. But it wasn’t just that the scent was offensive. It took Sophie back in time, first to her own accident, then to Peter and Elizabeth’s.

  Flashes of the emergency room swam before her eyes. Sitting alone in a chair with cold metal arms, the hubbub of the ER swirling around her. She recalled a woman propped up in a bed with so many tubes going into her body she resembled an octopus. She remembered a nurse’s white sneakers shuffling up to her as Sophie hung her head in her hands. The woman had put her hand on Sophie’s shoulder, forcing Sophie to look up.

  “I’m sorry,” she had said softly, “Peter and Elizabeth were dead on arrival. The EMTs did everything they could.”

  And then, the awful, nauseating sense of panic filled her. She remembered thinking surely it was a dream, a nightmare from which she would awaken at any second. She recalled thanking the female nurse, who had been so kind and gentle, taking Sophie into her arms for a hug. Sophie had cried on her shoulder until the woman’s scrubs were soaked.

  “Sophie.” Claire’s voice interrupted. “You okay?”

  Sophie blinked. “What? Oh, I’m fine, Claire.”

  “Are you sure?”

  She laughed, the sound nervous. “No, not really. But I’m as fine as I’ll ever be, I guess.”

  They stopped at a pair of shiny steel elevator doors. Claire pushed the button to go up, then turned back to Sophie.