The Cuffing Season (The Anti-Cinderella Chronicles)

by Tawdra Kandle

  “No, I didn’t,” I began, but even as I denied it, I knew I was lying to myself. Yes, I’d had a sense more than once that Sophia might want more than simple friendship from me, if I’d opened that door. Some part of me had realized that there was more between us than either of us acknowledged.

  “Okay, fine,” I relented. “Maybe I did know, but I didn’t think she wanted to . . . pursue anything. She never gave me any indication that she did. I thought it was one of those unspoken things. Like in Guardians of the Galaxy.”

  “She didn’t speak it because she was afraid of losing you.” Preston spread his hands. “This isn’t complex, my boy. It’s simple.”

  “I can’t believe I made such a mess of everything.” I dropped my head into my hands. “I didn’t realize that I was hurting her. I’d never intentionally do that to Sophia.”

  “You chose not to see it, but you had to know it on some level,” Preston argued. “You even asked me why Sophia was acting weird. I think maybe you were hoping I was going to tell you the truth—force you to acknowledge it.”

  I grimaced. “When did you get some flippin’ deep, Preston?”

  He grinned. “I’ve always been deep, Harry. You just haven’t looked.”

  “You’re not going to declare your love for me, too, are you?” I groaned. “I can only take one of those in a day, I think.”

  “Not me.” Preston chuckled. “I mean, I love you, my boy, but not in that way. Not the way Sophia does.”

  Those words sobered me up fast. Sophia was in love with me. “What the hell do I do with this?” I asked slowly, talking mostly to myself. “How do I react? What do I say to her?”

  “That’s up to you, and I recommend you give it some serious thought.” Preston studied me. “Don’t do anything hasty. If you go running after Sophia and try to make nice with her, it’s not going to work. Even if you decided to declare your love for her now, she won’t believe you. Plus, she might slug you. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her that angry.”

  “You’re not wrong,” I agreed. “And I don’t know yet how I feel. I’m just—reeling. I feel like someone woke me up from a coma and dumped a ton of new information on me.”

  “That’s kind of what Sophia did.” Preston gave my shoulder a light punch. “I suggest you go home and take a long time to think. If you want to talk or something, give me a call. Otherwise, I’m going to leave you alone. You’ve had a tough week, my boy.”

  I rose, nodding. “Good idea. That’s what I’m going to do.” I paused before turning toward the door. “Does she really—do you think Sophia legit loves me, Preston? It’s not just, like, a crush or something, is it?”

  Preston blew out a long breath. “Harry, if you could see the way Sophia looks at you when you’re not paying attention, you wouldn’t have any doubt about it. She’s been in love with you for years now, and that kind of love is definitely real.” He lifted one shoulder. “And it’s not going to go away any time soon. I think she tried to see if she could feel the same way about Zeke, but it didn’t work. He’s a great guy, but when it comes down to it, he’s not you.”

  I swallowed over the lump in my throat. “Thanks, Preston. I’ll talk to you soon.”

  “Hang in there, my boy. It’s all going to work out all right. You’ll see.”

  I wished that I had Preston’s optimism.

  When I got back home, my mother was sitting at the kitchen table. She glanced up at me and shook her head.

  “Harry, I love you, son, but you’re a dumbass.”

  My mouth dropped open. “What? Why? How can you say that to me?”

  “I don’t know where your dad and your sisters and I went wrong with you. How could you hurt that poor girl like you did?” Mom tossed up her hands. “How could you not know that Sophia loves you? How could you not see that you’ve been in love with her for years?”

  “Wait a second.” My world was spinning again, and I had to sit down. “How did you know all this? And what makes you think I love her?”

  “How did I know about Sophia loving you? Because I have eyes in my head. About you loving her? Because you’re my son, and even though I said you’re a dumbass, I raised you better, and you’re ultimately going to be smart enough to see the treasure in front of you. How do I know that you hurt her? Because she told Vivian, and Vivian called me.”

  Damn. I was in deep shit now. “Vivian knows?”

  “Of course, she does. As I said, anyone with eyes in her head could see it. What I don’t understand is why you haven’t noticed it before now. I don’t see why it took Sophia yelling at you across a crowded juice bar—”

  “It wasn’t that crowded, Mom. And she was on the other side of the table, not the other side of the room.”

  “Whatever. The point is that you said hurtful things to that sweet girl, and Harry, honestly. How could you? I thought I’d raised a gentle-spirited boy who respected women, not a-a—well, a dumbass.”

  I closed my eyes. “It’s a little more complicated than that, Mom. Give me some credit, okay?”

  “I’m trying to give you the benefit of the doubt, son.” She gazed at me for a solid minute and then sighed. “Harry. I’m sorry, sweetie. I know this has been a jolt for you. I guess as your mama, I should’ve said something before now, but I don’t like to interfere in my kids’ lives if I can help it.”

  “I appreciate that, usually, but from now on, if you know something this important, you have my full support to step in and whack me upside the head. Please.”

  “I’ll make note of that.” Mom stood up and moved to the stove. Taking down my favorite Santa Claus mug from the cabinet, she lifted a pot from the front burner and poured something that looked delicious into the cup. “When Preston texted me that you were on your way home, I made you some hot chocolate. You’re an adult now, Harry. I can’t fix your boo-boos and make you feel better. I can’t fight the world for you, or explain away your mistakes.” She carried the steaming cocoa to me and set it down. “But I can still make you hot chocolate when you’re sad. I can still hug you when you’re hurting. And I’ll always be here to listen, no matter what.”

  I wrapped one arm around my mother’s waist and buried my face against her, just as I had when I was small. “Thanks, Mom.”

  Her hand rested on my head. “What’re you going to do? About Sophia, I mean.”

  “I’m not sure yet,” I hedged, drawing back and sipping my hot chocolate. “I’m so confused. I want to apologize, but I don’t want to say anything to her that I might not mean. What if I say that I love her, too, but it turns out that I’m just trying to be nice?”

  “Professing your love for Sophia—your romantic love, I mean—would be the cruelest thing you could do if you’re not as sure about it as you can be.” Mom sat down again. “No one is ever a hundred percent certain about things like this. Heck, your dad and I have been married for over thirty-five years, and sometimes, there are days when I’m still not sure about him.” She winked at me. “So think about this, Harry. But don’t expect the angels to sing and a light to dawn.”

  “Then how will I know?” I knew that my mother was right, but wouldn’t it be nice if the angels did sing, and I had a total revelation about my feelings toward Sophia? Or maybe it would come to me in a dream . . .

  “Consider a couple of things. How would you feel if you realized you could never have Sophia in your life again?”

  Panic gripped me. “Not good at all. I don’t want to lose her.”

  “Uh-huh.” Mom nodded. “And who do you text as soon as you wake up in the morning?”

  “Sophia.” It was true. We’d had a running text thread for years, and it almost always included good mornings and goodnights.

  “When you think about the future, about getting married, having children, starting a family . . . who do you imagine by your side?”

  That was more complicated. I was twenty-three years old. I didn’t think about those things often. “I don’t know. Marriage and kids seem prett
y far away still.”

  Mom smirked. “That’s right. I forgot for a minute that I wasn’t dealing with one of your sisters. Okay, well, table that for a while. Let’s think of this. If Sophia announced that she was marrying someone else—this Zeke guy, for instance, who, by the way, really is a very nice person—how would you feel about it?”

  “She can’t marry him.” The words burst out of my mouth without any thought. “She’s not supposed to marry him. He’s not the one for Sophia.”

  “Ah.” My mother closed her eyes. “That’s interesting, isn’t it?”

  “Is that my answer, then?” I was like a drowning man, looking for a dependable piece of driftwood to save me.

  “It’s an answer.” Mom rose to her feet. “I’m going to bed, sweetie. I suggest you take some of this conversation and think about it some more. Take a few days. Sophia isn’t going to want to see you for a while, anyway, so you might as well give yourself some time to consider what it is you want.”

  “You’re sure you don’t want to just tell me what I should do?” I asked hopefully as she left the kitchen. “Or maybe Dad would?”

  “Ha!” My mother laughed. “Dad and I are officially Switzerland now.”

  “What about the girls?” All of my sisters had always been more than willing to give me advice, even when I didn’t want it.

  “You can ask them, but remember that they don’t have all the answers, either. Caveat emptor, you know.”

  “Yeah.” I stared up at the ceiling. “When did life get so hard, Mom? I thought I had it bad when I didn’t get the Pokemon cards I wanted for Christmas. I’d give everything to go back to those days.”

  Mom laughed softly. “There’s no going back, love. Someday, you’ll look back on this time and wish things were this easy and clear-cut.” She kissed my cheek. “Possibly when your son comes to you with questions about his love life. Good night, Harry. Love you.”

  “Love you, too, Mom.”

  And then I was alone in the silence with only my questions for company.

  I didn’t have to ask my sisters to weigh in, as it turned out. Each of them texted me the next day, giving me their take on the situation.

  Diana: Mom told me about Sophia. Listen, Harry, Sophia is AMAZING and she is perfect for you. Grab her up now before someone else does and you have to live knowing you missed out. Love you, bub.

  Hanna: I’m sorry about everything that happened, Harry! <3 The whole thing with Faith, etc., that sucks. But hey, Sophia is so great. We all love her. But I hope you’re okay. See you on Thanksgiving.

  Camille: Being single is not a bad thing, little bro. I love Sophia, too, but don’t rush into anything. You’ve got plenty of time—you’re young. <3 you.

  If all of their input wasn’t enough, Vivian stopped by a day later, little Gus strapped into some kind of backpack thing, only it was on her front. She stood in the kitchen, dancing around to keep him asleep.

  “I knew from the first time I met Sophia that you two were meant for each other, Harry. I just hoped you realized it before it was too late.” She glared at me. “It’s not quite too late, but it’s getting close. Man up. You haven’t broken her heart yet, but she’s close to it.”

  I appreciated all of the helpful comments, but in the end, the decision had to be mine, and as I saw it, I had to choose one of two paths. Neither of them would be easy. I had to either completely cut myself off from Sophia, end our friendship and move on with my life alone, or I had to take the plunge into the unnavigated waters of friends who were now . . . in love. There wasn’t an in-between, because we’d come too far to go back to being just friends. We couldn’t pretend that we didn’t know the truth about each other.

  Come to think of it, I wasn’t even sure that I had much say in what happened next. I could go to Sophia and beg her forgiveness, ask her for a second chance, but there was every likelihood that she’d kicked my sorry butt to the curb now. Why would she take another chance on me, especially if she still had the wonderful Zeke in her life?

  Despite what my mother had said, I was still half-expecting the answers to rain down on me. I got up and went to work during my normal shifts—and I had to be on the ball there, as we were moving into the crazy holiday season at breakneck speed—but when I returned home, the same questions were there waiting for me.

  The Sunday before Thanksgiving, I lay in bed, drowsing in the state between awake and asleep. I hadn’t yet decided if I should show up at Sophia’s house today. Vivian had told me that Friendsgiving was still going on as planned, and technically, I hadn’t been uninvited. But my presence might be more uncomfortable than welcomed if Sophia was still mad . . . and if I hadn’t decided what I planned to do next.

  I sighed, and my mind drifted back into a half-dream that was a memory. It was years ago, during the first holiday season I’d known Sophia. We’d driven down to the small town of Celebration for the so-called snowfall. On the hour in the evenings, the town square pumped out ‘snow flakes’—bits of soap that, while they were in the air, vaguely resembled snow. There were Christmas lights and carols and the smell of gingerbread floating in the air. It had been magical.

  Preston had been meant to go with us, but he’d had to bail at the last minute. I couldn’t remember exactly why now, but in the end, it had been just Sophia and me. We hadn’t known each other too long at that point, and so we hadn’t developed that easy camaraderie that had come later. There had still been between us a little mystery.

  Sophia had never been to the Celebration Christmas Square, and she had gasped in delight as we’d walked around. “Oh, Harry, this is amazing.” She’d laughed, spinning as she stood in the faux snowfall. “Thank you so much for bringing me.”

  I’d stood next to her, watching the joy in her face, and something had shifted in me. In that moment, that brief, stolen flash of time, I’d imagined holding her close to me, standing together by a Christmas tree, secure in the certainty that we belonged to each other, not just now but forever.

  And then that moment had passed, and I’d forgotten it, until now.

  My eyes opened wide, and suddenly, there wasn’t a decision. There wasn’t a choice. Everything was crystal clear, and I knew what I had to do.

  8

  It was actually cold as I got out of my car and walked to Sophia’s front door. November in Florida could be a crapshoot; it might be fifty, or it might be eighty. Today was clear, sunny and in the low sixties. It felt like Thanksgiving should feel, I decided. I hoped it was a sign.

  I was an hour early for Friendsgiving, but I knew that I had to talk to Sophia before everyone else showed up. If things didn’t go well, I’d be gone before the others arrived. If Sophia forgave me . . . well, I wasn’t certain what came next, but I had hopes.

  The truth was that I’d never been so nervous in my life. It had taken me forty-five minutes to figure out what to wear, even though I’d eventually settled on jeans and a green T-shirt with a big turkey picture on the front, thinking maybe it would make Sophia smile.

  Trying to keep my hand from shaking, I knocked on the door and waited, my heart in my throat.

  A few moments passed before Sophia opened the door. When she did, I took a minute to look at her, to see her with eyes that now understood so much more. She was a little more dressed up than she usually was; her long, flowy skirt flirted with the tops of her flat shoes, and her short-sleeved top clung to her soft curves. I realized that if I had a type, Sophia was exactly it.

  She stood there, her hands holding tight to the knob, staring up at me, her eyes somber and unsure.

  “Hi.” I cleared my throat. “Could I come in?”

  She gave that request more than just quick thought, but finally, she nodded and stepped back.

  The small living room was decorated for Thanksgiving, and a long folding table took up most of the open floor space. I noted with a sinking heart that it was set for five.

  “I was going to ask if I was still expected for dinner, but I guess that a
nswers my question.” I pointed at the place settings. “Five people. Vivian, Charlie, Preston, you and Zeke.”

  Sophia hesitated and then shook her head. “No. I was hoping . . . I hoped you’d come. I expected you. After all, you were invited.” She swallowed, her throat working. “Zeke isn’t going to be here.”

  I wanted to pump my fist in the air and do a dance, but I managed to remain calm. “Oh, no? Why not?”

  She cast me a quick, enigmatic glance. “I told him not to come. We . . . I told Zeke that I couldn’t see him anymore. Last week.”

  Last week. Was that right after she’d announced that she was in love with me?

  “Why?” I asked again, needing to know the answer more than I needed my next breath.

  “Because it wasn’t fair to him.” Sophia flipped her hair back over her shoulder. “I was doing to Zeke what I accused you of doing to me. I was making him my safety net, my consolation prize. If things with you didn’t work out, he was there for me. And that wasn’t right. So . . . I ended things.”

  “Ah.” I nodded. “Okay.”

  Sophia knotted her hands together in front of her. “You’re way early for dinner, Harry. If you came for some other reason than to eat, why don’t you just say it and . . . well, whatever. Just get it over with, all right? I’m tired of being miserable. I’d rather go right into depressed and pathetic in time for the holidays.” She hunched her shoulders, and I wanted nothing more than to draw her into my arms and comfort her.

  “Soph,” I began, my voice was rumbly with emotion. “I didn’t come to make you miserable or depressed. I didn’t come to . . .” I trailed off.

  “Don’t tell me why you didn’t come, then.” She lifted wide eyes to mine. “Tell me why you did.”

  “I came because you were right, Sophia.” I stuck my hands in the back pockets of my jeans, mostly to keep from reaching for her. “I was a lousy friend. I took you for granted, I made assumptions . . . and I’m sorry. I’m really, one hundred percent sorry. And I hope that maybe you can find it in your heart to forgive me for my stupidity, and maybe we could be friends again.”