Page 153 of Head Over Heels
Was that true? She thought of all the events and constant outings she’d planned, like she was trying to fill up every second of her time. And then it hit her like a ton of bricks. She’d been ... lonely. Penelope was married, Maddie was married. The world had been moving on without her, and it brought up all those old feelings of abandonment. She’d been manically creating nonstop excitement in her life to avoid the loss.
Like all revelations, it seemed totally obvious, followed by a big ol’ “now what?” But she couldn’t lay that on Penelope, who would take it to heart when she’d done absolutely nothing wrong. She’d lived her life. That’s what she was supposed to do.
Now it was time for Sophie to do the same. She shifted her attention to her friend, her sister not by blood but by heart. “I don’t know the answer. But I’m hoping the next couple of days will help me figure it out.”
“I hope so.” Penelope reached out and touched her hand. “But while you do, remember one thing, okay?”
“What’s that?”
“As someone who spent a lot of years in love with someone I couldn’t be with, I guess I want you to think about the fact that some people aren’t replaceable.”
“So you think that Evan was your one and only love?”
She tucked her hair behind her ear and sighed. “I think it’s more that I wouldn’t have let myself love that way again, if that makes any sense at all. If we’d never found our way together again, would I have eventually fallen in love with someone else and gotten married? I don’t know. Probably. But it wouldn’t have been him, and I wouldn’t have loved in the same wild, soul-crushing way.” She chuckled a little. “Which, as you know, isn’t always an advantage, but tends to be very worth it.”
“I know what you mean.”
“Desperate, needy love is a pain in the ass, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
“Is it still like that? Even married?”
She sighed. “Yeah, it is. It doesn’t have the angst. Doesn’t have that sinking pit in my stomach, warning we’re about to implode at any second. But it’s still a storm, you know? A good storm, like the kind we used to go run outside in, screaming like banshees as it poured and the skies rolled while the sun blazed. That’s how it feels to be with Evan.”
Sophie nodded, her throat unbearably tight. “I’ll remember.”
* * *
Sophie sat in the reception area of François’s office, her legs crossed, waiting for him to come get her. She’d been in interviews all day with key staff, and he was the last on the list. It had been a long day, but as soon as she’d walked into the building she’d slipped right into PR mode, despite the horrible night’s sleep she had.
As luck would have it, Ryder had a work emergency and hadn’t been able to call her last night. Not talking to him made her restless and agitated, unable to settle in enough to rest.
But when she’d woke, she’d dressed to the nines, put on a bright face, and knocked every single interview she’d had out of the park. And with each interview she passed with flying colors, the more she confronted the truth. A secret part of her had hoped the job was hype, that it wouldn’t be what she wanted, or she’d hate the people.
But none of that was the case.
Simply put, the job was a dream. It was everything she’d ever envisioned for herself. It was multimedia, high profile, connected, fun, and challenging and called on all her skills and abilities. Everyone she’d met had been warm, welcoming, and excited about her coming on board.
And with every conversation she had, the pit in the bottom of her stomach grew. This was her job. She felt it in her bones.
She’d be able to buy a condo, shop every day, go out to fancy restaurants and be invited to all the best places, and travel to Europe.
All she saw was Ryder, and something else that surprised her.
She saw them watching TV on her couch, his arm around her, his lips brushing her neck.
Her small office overlooking Main Street filled with plans for the tiny houses resort.
His body covering hers, his bare chest against her breasts, his weight heavy and delicious.
Walking into a storefront and shaking the owner’s hand, talking about new opportunities.
Sunday mornings on the deck, reading the news, her eyelids still heavy as she melted into the sun.
And a blog. A blog about a big-city girl and small-town life.
That was what she’d thought about, been distracted by.
“Sophie, darling.” François’s voice ripped her from her thoughts.