by Avery Samson
Hers to Forget
Sideswiped Series Book 4.5
Avery Samson
Copyright © 2021 by Avery Samson
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Editor: My Brother’s Editor
Cover Designer: Rachel Webb
Cover Photo: Lindee Robinson Photography
Models: Chris and Mary
Contents
1. Teddy
2. Sophia
3. Teddy
4. Sophia
5. Teddy
6. Sophia
7. Teddy
8. Sophia
Epilogue
Also by Avery Samson
Acknowledgments
Coming Soon
Intangible
About the Author
1
Teddy
I am Icarus and she is my sun. I know if I fly too close to her, the fall will kill me. Shaking my head, I laugh at myself. Maybe I shouldn’t have taken that poetry class my freshman year. I’m pretty sure it filled my perfectly adjusted math mind full of bullshit.
I would say I haven’t even thought about my Sophia in years, but it would be a lie. Even after all this time, I still dream about her every night. I sigh as I cross through Covent Garden heading toward my tiny apartment in SoHo. My school friends would refer to me as pussy whipped if they could read my thoughts. Sad thing is, I would happily agree with them.
I first met Sophia on the Wednesday morning before Thanksgiving eight years ago. She bounded down the front porch of her house, the sunlight bouncing off her chestnut hair. She had the most beautiful smile on her face and when she turned to me, I was lost forever.
I was fourteen and had just been discovered living at a boy’s home by an older brother I had never met. Grayson had not known I existed until that day, but he immediately accepted me as his family. He was the best thing to happen in my life.
Our parents had abandoned me, as they had him a decade before, signing me over to the state without a second thought. Grayson had pulled me from that home, moved me in with him, and sent me to the best schools in the city.
He gave me everything, but all I’ve ever wanted was Sophia. I had one glorious summer with her the year she graduated from high school. I’m sure she saw it as babysitting, but I loved every second I was with her.
Grayson and his wife, Izzy, had their first baby that summer. We had moved into a new house, with Sophia moving in down the street after her parents sold their house in the Panhandle to move closer to their first grandchild. Grayson bought her a car for graduation, so we spent hours just driving around, listening to music.
But Sophia moved that August to college on the other side of the country. I saw her occasionally for holidays but always surrounded by family.
No one seemed to notice that I never dated much in high school, assuming I was too much of a player. Sleep deprivation could be part of the reason since my nephew was soon followed by twin girls, but I doubt it. I could always talk a good game when Grayson drug me along to guy’s night, but there could never be anyone but Sophia.
When I won a place at the prestigious London School of Economics upon graduation, I thought Grayson would burst. He told everyone that would listen how I would someday surpass him in investment prowess. It has taken me away from home for almost four years now.
I haven’t seen Sophia much during that time, only hearing from her occasionally. Until now, anyway. She just arrived in London for a week to work on an article about a new Andrew Lloyd Webber play opening in two weeks.
Journalism was always a passion of hers, majoring in it in college before managing to land a job at the entertainment desk for CBS news. She has appeared several times on camera and I have every clip saved to my computer.
I know she aspires to be a foreign correspondent though, so she takes every foreign assignment she can get her hands on. I’ve never doubted that she will make it someday. Sophia doesn’t know the meaning of failure.
She contacted me last week to let me know she would be staying in SoHo for the week and would like to see me. My plan was to spend these four years trying to move on from her. Now I’m fighting to act like it’s just two friends getting together for a drink instead of my first and only love crashing back into my life.
I’ve pushed my feelings for her down for eight years now. One more week should be child’s play. This time when she leaves to move on with her life, just maybe, I can move on with mine. That’s my plan anyway.
She arrives tomorrow afternoon. I offered to pick her up from Gatwick, but she assured me arrangements had been made. We made plans to meet for dinner at a place near Her Majesty’s Theatre.
I bought a new shirt, had my hair cut, and cleaned my apartment for the occasion. I’m not sure what I’m expecting, but it helped keep my nerves at bay for a while.
I dreamed about her again last night. We were in bed with her legs wrapped around me as I made love to her. I’ve had that same dream probably a thousand times since I was fourteen, the dreams growing in intensity through the years.
She arrives in town today. It’s Friday morning and I have class. I’ve had numerous job offers so far, but I’m leaning toward joining my brother’s new firm. He and his business partner, Matthew, opened it a year ago. They are still struggling to keep up with the influx of clients.
My brother has always been gifted at reading the trends in the market, making a large fortune for his clients. When he decided to open his own firm, most of them moved over. I’ve had a written offer from him in my desk drawer for six months now. I enjoy hearing about how the firm is growing during Grayson’s weekly calls but I’m still not completely positive what direction I want to go in.
Classes are easy for me. Economics has always made sense in my world. I was told in high school by Izzy’s best friend, Lily, that just the mention of a word problem made her glaze over. I guess that’s why she chose art history instead.
For me, numbers are a constant, even when they flow fluidly in business. I laugh, thinking about the looks that both Lily and her sister-in-law, Maggie, an English teacher, used to give me whenever I tried to explain it to them. They usually just offered a hug halfway through my colorful description, which was fine with me since they are both gorgeous.
When class ends, I head back to my apartment. Quickly running through a shower, I take my time to dress. I decide on a pair of navy slacks with my new button-down gray shirt, even polishing my only pair of dress shoes. Trying to make my hair behave in the mirror, I finally give up.
I look so much like my brother that, if we weren’t twelve years apart in age, we could be mistaken for twins. The main difference between us is his ability to always look perfectly groomed. That and our eye color.
I’ll be early, but I can’t stand to stay in this apartment another minute. It’s a short walk to the restaurant, which is where Sophia finds me pacing out front.
“Teddy? That can’t possibly be you!” I turn to find Sophia. It’s like I’m fourteen again as I’m rendered mute watching her walk toward me like something out of a dream. With a mental shake of my head, I manage to smile as she approaches.
“Soph! You made it!” She throws her arms around my neck, pulling me into a tight hug. She smells of sunshine and lavender, just like in my dreams. I hug her
tight back, trying desperately to convince my heart to slow down. So far, my plan to move on isn’t working so well.
“You’re so grown up,” she says, stepping back so she can appraise me.
“It had to happen eventually. Couldn’t stay a snot-nosed asshat forever.”
She loops her arm through mine, reaching up to kiss me on the cheek. “Don’t talk crazy! You were always the coolest asshat I knew.”
I want to ask her how she sees me now, but I hold my tongue. For at least one night, I can pretend that she doesn’t affect me so dramatically.
“Shall we head in?” I ask, opening the door.
I can’t resist placing my hand on her back to lead her through the restaurant to our table. Though she has a long jacket on, I can still remember how her skin felt when we danced at the wedding so long ago. Making sure she is comfortably seated, I sink into the chair next to her.
“So what do you recommend?” Sophia asks me as she studies the menu.
“To be perfectly honest, I’ve only eaten here once, when Grayson was in town.”
Grayson pays for everything, including my apartment, so I try not to spend more than necessary. She smiles in understanding, Grayson did the same for her. Having never had a family in the past, he is fierce about providing for the family he has now. Even through the vast amount of crap we gave each other, I couldn’t have hoped for a better brother.
“Well, what did you eat when you were here last?”
I scan the menu, trying to recall.
“I remember the Caesar salad with prime rib wasn’t too shabby.”
She looks at me in mock amazement.
“What? The ‘that shit’s for rabbits’ guy actually eats salad now.” She laughs when my face slowly starts to turn red.
“How did you ever survive my teen years?” I ask, shaking my head.
She reaches over, squeezing my hand. Her hand is small and soft, her touch searing into me. I look down at where they connect as my heart begins to pound in my chest again. Just a casual touch sends me into a spiral. I hear her clear her throat as she squeezes my hand. When I look up, her eyes are trained on me.
“Lots of Valium,” she answers with a grin.
Our server chooses that minute to take our order, forcing Sophia to turn my hand loose. “So, what are you planning on doing after graduation? Do you plan on staying in London?” she asks when our server leaves to turn in our order. I look over, finding her eyes, the color of chocolate laced with gold, watching me with interest.
“That’s a good question. I’ve had some offers here, but Grayson also sent me an offer to work with him and Matthew at their firm. I’ve debated just buying a Magic 8-Ball to see what it says.”
“That’s always a good way to make all major life decisions, a Magic 8-Ball,” she says as we both laugh.
The funny thing about Sophia is, when she is around, we laugh together all of the time.
“So tell me, smart-ass, what do you think would be the best choice?” I ask her with a smirk.
“There’s the mouth I remember,” she teases me back. “I was wondering what happened to that mouth. Last time I checked, Izzy had a swear jar that was overflowing from you and Grayson.”
“I think that jar ultimately funded college. I never had my allowance longer than two days,” I say, rolling my eyes.
“So what changed?”
“Well, when your brother kicks your ass because his two-year-old daughter starts walking around the house yelling ‘fuck you,’ you clean up your mouth.”
Sophia throws her head back this time laughing until tears form in her eyes.
“Tell me that didn’t happen!”
“Oh, it happened. I thought Grayson was going to kill me. She even used it in the proper context. They couldn’t take her anywhere for two weeks until they got her to stop yelling it. Every time she blurted it out, Grayson came after me again. I had to go stay with your parents until he calmed down.”
“Well, if it’s any consolation, I liked that mouth on occasion. It was like hanging out with a bad boy.”
She thought I was a bad boy? I was actually just some scared kid full of fake bravado.
“It still comes out sometimes, but I try to keep it at bay. Besides, the Brits had so many new ones for me to learn, it became overwhelming. I think wanker is my favorite, it just sums up so much.”
We lapse back into silence as our meal is delivered. Our conversation turns to her work as we eat. When we’re finally done, they clear our plates away, and we decide to share a crème brûlée. After it’s delivered, Sophia digs into it. I watch, entranced as she scoops up a bite, licking it slowly off the spoon.
“I forgot you eat pudding and ice cream like a porn star.”
She grins at me, daintily wiping her mouth with her napkin.
“You know you are the only person who has ever had the balls to point that out, right?”
Watching her eat ice cream always made me wish desperately to be the spoon. An ice cream cone was even better.
“I still stand by my observation.”
“What I should have asked, now that I’ve thought about it,” she says, “is how did you know so much about porn stars.”
“I plead the fifth,” I say, holding up my hand, laughing.
She takes a sip of the coffee we ordered with dessert. When she sets it back on the table, she studies me for a minute.
“I’m so glad we did this. It seems like forever since we hung out.”
“I think it was the summer I was seventeen,” I say. “You had just graduated from college but hadn’t begun your job in New York. The twins had just been born, so I was feeling sorry for myself about being overlooked.”
Rolling my eyes, I add, “I was so badly behaved that Grayson was about at the end of his rope. You were like a breath of fresh air. Even though you were only there for two weeks, we went out every night. Bowling, movies, mini-golf, it didn’t matter as long as it was out of the house.”
“I remember you were so quiet the day before I left,” she says quietly.
“You were like a tornado blowing in that summer. Before I knew it, you were gone, but I stepped up after you left. I stopped giving Grayson such a hard time, got a job, and started trying to help out more around the house. I think Gray and Izzy were always grateful to you. They assumed you had read me the riot act and straightened my ass out.”
“As if anybody could ever get you to behave by reading you the riot act. It was always like waving a red cape in front of you,” she answers with a grin.
“Yeah, I really haven’t changed that much,” I agreed. I pay the check, under protest from Sophia, before wandering outside. Standing awkwardly outside the restaurant, I try to grasp for a reason to stall parting ways. “My apartment is only a couple of blocks over if you’d like to continue our visit. It’s not much, but it’s decent.” I hold my breath as she thinks over her options.
“Sure, why not? I’d love to see your place. Your room was always such a disaster.”
I hold out my hand, the action so natural, I don’t even think about how she will react. As she slides her hand in mine, I can feel my pulse pick up. At this rate, I’ll have completed an entire cardio workout without even walking to the gym. We walk toward my apartment, turning our discussion back to her job.
“Are you actually interviewing Andrew Lloyd Webber?” I ask.
“Later in the week. I have to do some on-location work first.”
We walk in silence as I rack my brain for more to ask.
Finally she says, “I’m still hoping to become a foreign correspondent. I just have to get enough exposure to prove I can do it.”
“I’ve seen you several times reporting. I think you’re very good. I’m sure you’ll get where you want to be sooner rather than later.”
She looks at me in surprise. “Thank you, Teddy. I’ve always thought of you as my biggest fan.”
It surprises me that she thinks of me at all. She lives in the exciting world
of news. I’m still in the boring world of finance. My days are filled with thoughts of her, but she is surrounded by exciting, powerful men, any of which could sweep her off her feet.
“This is it, home sweet home.” We’ve reached the perch of the walk-up I’m living in. I open the door, escorting her inside.
My small apartment is on the third floor. It basically consists of one main room with a very small bathroom. I’ve tried to hide the bed in the corner with a screen with minimal results.
There is also a ridiculously tiny kitchenette with a bistro table shoved next to the screen. I usually just eat on the couch while watching TV.
I’ve put up some pictures, including one of Sophia and I smiling arm-in-arm in front of my house the last summer she was home. She looks around my apartment while I wait for her appraisal.
“This is great, Teddy. I know how much rent is in London, so I’ve been worried about you finding something suitable.” She picks up the picture of us, studying it before placing it back on the small mantle. “I can’t believe that was five years ago.”
I cross the room to stand behind her, looking over her shoulder at the picture.
“I can’t believe how long my hair was.” I laugh.
As we stand there, I think it would be so easy to reach out and pull her against me. Even if it is just for a moment to feel her body mold against mine, but I learned a long time ago to shove those feelings deep down.
I would never make the first move, knowing I wouldn’t survive if Sophia pushed me away. However, what if she feels the same for me and neither one of us ever makes the first move?
Didn’t Tennyson say it’s better to have loved and lost than never to have loved? Am I really so big of a coward that I’m not willing to experience loss by taking a chance on love? Stupid poetry class.