Sophia picked up the phone she’d been ignoring for hours. She’d not lied to Felipe about her ability to do that. Her acquired skills—entertaining, arranging—made her a good events coordinator, but society doors no longer automatically opened for her and now she was in trouble.
She’d been fired by text.
For her personal life to impact on her career when she’d worked hard to gain some independence was ironic but not exactly undeserved. She replied to the terse termination message—
I understand. I can only apologise.
What had she expected given she’d caused a scene with the client? She wasn’t going to blame Felipe. Wasn’t even going to tell him she’d been sacked. This was not his problem. They’d had their night and it was over and she would probably never see him again. He’d made something of his life since that fight six years ago and she needed to move on, too. She’d spent too long resenting the time she’d wasted in allowing herself to be trapped. She’d ached for her father’s approval, lived her life for him and her family, not believed that she could make her own choices. But she could and did and was better off without her father’s emotional manipulation. She would find another place. Another job. At least now she could put Felipe behind her.
She would leave. Again. Start over. Again. Tomorrow.
Tonight she couldn’t do anything else but wallow. She’d sink into memories and sensations and simply take care of herself. And that meant comfort food.
An hour later her melancholic endeavours were interrupted by the incessant buzz of her doorbell.
‘It’s me.’ Felipe’s voice came over the intercom with the impact of a defibrillator. ‘Come out to dinner with me.’
She leaned against the wall. This was an invitation she’d once have loved. Now it was one she couldn’t possibly accept.
‘I’ve already made dinner,’ she said.
‘You’ve made dinner?’ He sounded utterly disbelieving.
Did he really think her such a princess?
She should be strong. Simply wasn’t. Couldn’t resist. ‘If you want you can come up and share it,’ she said sarcastically.
There was a moment.
‘Buzz me in.’
She opened her door and went back to the pan on the hot plate.
‘Something smells amazing…’ Awareness flared in his eyes. He walked close and peered at the contents. Next second he grabbed a spoon and dipped it, blowing gently before tasting it. Colour flooded his face. ‘How—’
‘I’m not completely incompetent,’ she murmured.
‘But—’
‘I watched your mother make this for years.’
She’d often sat on a stool in the kitchen, watching the woman make delicious dinners from simple, inexpensive ingredients. She’d preferred this primavera sauce to the fancier meals the housekeeper had made when her father had other guests Sophia had always been jealous of. More so when some had paid inappropriate attention to Felipe. But now she was still smarting over him telling her that his mother had warned him about her.
He smirked. ‘You mean when you weren’t watching me.’
She refused to blush. ‘I made extra for tomorrow so there’s plenty. Don’t hold back.’
His eyes widened.
She served up two bowls and carried them to her tiny table. She flipped her phone over so she couldn’t see the alerts. So he couldn’t, either. They ate in silence—but she noted with pleasure that he demolished his in moments, then indeed, went back for more.
Then he carried their plates to the small sink. She put her hand on his to stop him running the tap. It was a waste of time. He didn’t want to settle. She was leaving. But they could have tonight.
He turned towards her and looked into her eyes. Then they both abandoned the attempt to hold back.
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