Page 105 of Trying Sophie

Sophie angled her head and studied me. “Did I do something wrong?”

“Nope,” I answered, stepping around her to stand in the door. Checking my watch to avoid her scrutiny, I outlined the rest of our afternoon. “If we leave now, we can grab lunch and be at the distillery by two o’clock. I didn’t know if you’d be up for anything afterward, so I haven’t booked dinner. I’m sure we can figure something out though.”

“Whatever you want works for me,” she answered, rocking back on her heels.

“Great,” I said, stepping aside so she could exit. “We’ll play it by ear then.”

Sophie joined me on the stoop and as I locked up, she rested her hand on my back. “Are you sure everything’s okay?”

My eyes fixed on the door, I blinked slowly before sliding them to her. Making sure my expression masked my unease, I answered blithely, “Yeah, everything’s great. Why do you ask?”

“What you said back there—” she pointed in the direction of the train stop “—we never finished talking about it.”

“What more is there to say? We’re together while you’re here and we’ll see how it goes when you leave. That’s the deal, right?”

“Yeeesss,” she intoned, drawing out her response. “And you’re okay with that, right?”

“Whatever you want to give me is fine.”

It wasn’t, but I was done arguing with her. She’d made her choice and if I wanted to be with her, I just had to live with it and hope it didn’t hurt too much when she left me.

“Is it though?” she asked, eyeing me skeptically.

“Yup,” I said, my lips popping on the p. “Should we go?” I asked pointedly, wanting to drop the subject.

With a resigned breath, Sophie slid on her gloves. “Absolutely. I can’t wait,” she responded, painting on a forced smile.

* * *

A little oversix hours later we were in a taxi on our way back to my place. Lunch had been strained, but we’d both relaxed once the distillery tour had gotten underway.

A dram or two of 21-year-old whiskey will do that to you, I thought, remembering Sophie’s reaction to a reserve bottle the manager had opened specially for us. She didn’t know it yet, but I’d asked him to ship a bottle to her out in Ballycurra.

Having agreed to come back with a couple of my teammates to sign autographs next week, Sophie and I’d been treated to more whiskey than I normally drank in one sitting. I’d been slightly buzzed by the time our tour had wrapped up while Sophie had been well and truly drunk by the fourth dram. My girl was a lightweight.

With my arm wrapped around her shoulder and her head resting against my chest, I realized she was asleep and used the quiet moment to assess my earlier reaction and examine my feelings. Even though I’d pursued her with a single-minded focus, I hadn’t meant for any of this to happen. At first I told myself we’d have a good time, enjoy each other’s bodies, but it wouldn’t go any further. But I knew I’d been fooling myself from the get-go. I’d fallen hard … and fast. So incredibly fast. The joke was on me though because for once I was the one looking for commitment from someone who couldn’t return the sentiment.

The way my chest hurt every time I thought about her leaving let me know I wasn’t going to handle it very well when the day came. I’d already watched her leave Ballycurra once with a lump in my throat; I didn’t need a repeat performance. What I needed was to pull back, put some distance between us while I still could.

I nudged her shoulder. “Sophie, wake up. We’re home.”

Sitting up, she rubbed her eyes. “Home?”

“My house,” I clarified.

“Oh, right.”

Paying the driver, we exited the taxi and stood side-by-side on the wet pavement.

“It rained,” she observed groggily, wrapping her arm through mine. Looking up at me with a shy smile, she added, “Thanks for today, by the way.”

“You’re welcome.”

“I had a good time,” she continued, her eyes searching my face.

“I’m glad,” I answered, refusing to meet her stare. “Be careful, the tiles can be slippery, especially in those shoes.”

Clinging tighter, she whispered, “You won’t let me fall.”

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