Page 88 of Broken Deal

For a moment, I’m at a loss for words, staring at Charlotte with a blank expression. The idea of loving anyone isforeign and overwhelming. Something I’m…unfamiliar with.

Being around Sophia makes me want to be someone worthy of her. I want to protect her, to be there for her in every way possible. I want to make her laugh genuinely, not the forced laughs she offers to everyone else. I want to see her smile, the kind that makes her eyes sparkle and tugs at my chest with a sharp, bittersweet ache. I want to be her support, her shoulder to lean on. I want to show her she’s not alone in this world. I want her to know I can share her burdens and help her carry the weight of her pain.

But love? That’s not something I can offer.

I clear my throat and take a sip of tea, my throat feeling unexpectedly dry. “We’re just friends,” I finally manage to say.

She takes a sip of her tea while keeping her gaze locked on mine. “You didn’t answer my question.”

I stare at her, struggling to find words. It’s such a complex, tangled question for someone like me.

“When you walk into the room, her face lights up,” she says, her voice catching as she fights back tears. “Do you have any idea when was the last time I saw her eyes full of life? She thinks I don’t notice. But I know my daughter isn’t happy, and as her mother, it breaks my heart. Because I know it’s all my fault?—”

I cut her off gently. “It’s not your fault. She adores you,” I say firmly, trying to reassure her.

She shakes her head with a humorless laugh. “I didn’t set a good example for her. There’s so much you don’t know. I did the best I could with the situation we were in. But now, seeing how it’s affected my daughters, I wish I’d handled things differently.”

I grab her hand and squeeze it, reassuringly. “You raiseda wonderful daughter. And I know it would kill her if she knew you were talking about yourself like this.”

She wipes her face with the back of her hand, standing. “Thank you for listening. You’re a great man.” She caresses my cheek in a motherly, tender way. “Thank you for loving my daughter. Even if you don’t realize it yet.” The way she speaks is like she’s privy to a secret Sophia and I haven’t figured out yet. “I’m going to bed, tell Sophia, yeah?”

She exits, leaving me alone in the kitchen, caught in a whirlwind of emotions I can’t quite make sense of, but I’m eager to try.

As I sit on my childhood home porch with my laptop in hand, the blank page stares at me mockingly.

Max asked how Lorenzo’s article was going. And to be quite honest, it’s not. I bullshit my way through excuses, reminding him all the work he’s been giving me has set me behind. He was pissed about it but didn’t pressure me into sending him a rough draft yet. So I have some time to work on this. With everything that has been going on, I’m barely above water right now. But this is important, and I have to do my job despite how our situation has…changed. Lorenzo deserves the best work. The best article yet. But I feel everything I come up with is so impersonal and tasteless.

“Blue,” Lorenzo rasps, startling me.

I look over my shoulder, finding him leaning against the door frame with his arms crossed looking too handsome for his own good. “Jesus! You scared me.”

He laughs. “It’s late, you should get some rest.”

“In a minute,” I mumble, staring at the blankdocument. I’m hoping for a miracle that’ll get me writing in the next few seconds.

He closes the distance between us, shutting the laptop as he shakes his head. “Now.”

I press my lips into a thin line. “You’re so bossy.”

“And you must be exhausted. Can’t Max, I don’t know, give work to other people?” he asks, frowning.

“If only,” I mumble to myself as I stroll inside the house.

He follows me into my old bedroom. I don’t keep much here anymore—never had much to start with. The room has two nightstands, a full-size bed, and a small desk in the corner where I work when I visit Mom.

“You say that a lot. Why? Does he give you a lot of work?”

“It doesn’t matter.” I wave my hand at him dismissively, placing my laptop on the desk.

He hums, unconvinced, shutting the door. “Do you want me to take the couch? The bed is kind of small. I want to make sure you’re rested.”

“You said the exact same thing yesterday, and I already told you the couch is uncomfortable. No reason for you to break your back,” I say, climbing onto the bed, and patting the space beside me.

“If you want to cuddle, all you have to do?—”

I interrupt. “All I have to do is ask. I know, I know.” I laugh, rolling my eyes. “Will youcuddlewith me, Ace?” I ask, wiggling my eyebrows playfully.

He climbs on the bed and wraps his arms around me. I let myself get enveloped in his intoxicating and masculine scent I’ve grown to love so much.

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