Authors: Delia Foster
“Happy Birthday!”
“Thanks, Carter.” She grinned slightly before getting into the black town car, where he sat in the backseat waiting for her.
He’d called her shortly after she’d read her father’s letter. She’d been busy listening to music and vacuuming, so all she’d heard was a curt voicemail from him.
“Sophie, I’m getting you early. Be ready at three o’clock, and wait outside your apartment,” he paused momentarily before adding, “and I know you will but I’m saying just in case, make sure you wear something nice.”
Puzzled, she’d tried to call him back, but he hadn’t answered.
Truth be told, she honestly didn’t want to celebrate her birthday. She wasn’t opposed to turning a year older, but after seeing the photo of Lucas on Liz’s phone last weekend, any progress she thought she’d made had dissolved. She’d kept to herself for most of the week, avoiding her mother, Liz, Carter, and a few other well-intentioned friends, instead throwing herself completely into her new job.
She’d used that for her excuse as to her unavailability, until Carter and Liz stopped asking and simply told her that they were planning her birthday dinner for that Saturday evening, and it was her choice as to whether or not she wanted it catered at her apartment or in a restaurant.
Bullies.
“Why are you picking me up so early? Dinner isn’t until eight-thirty.”
He sent a little smile her way. “Why can’t I just spend time with my favorite girl?”
“You know Laura would have your head on a cutting board if she heard you say that,” she said wryly.
He huffed. “You’re my favorite girl, she’s my favorite woman. She’d love me even more after she heard that.”
Sophie rolled her eyes.
This was true. Laura kept Carter on a tight leash, but he happily let her lead him around. They were mad for each other.
“Okay, so seriously Carter, what’s the deal?”
He stiffened slightly, and he actually looked…nervous?
“Carter?”
“Did you read your last letter from your dad?”
“Yes, I did, and you know changing the subject isn’t going to help. We’re going to get to wherever it is you’re taking me eventually, so it’s not like I won’t find out. By the way, why did Dad say you’re my fairy godmother?”
He turned so red, she began to worry he was going to have a stroke. “Carter, are you okay?”
“I’m fine, I’m fine,” he grumbled. “Your dad was a sadistic bastard sometimes, you know that?”
Definitely not what she’d expected him to say. “What?”
“Tattoo,” he grumbled. “Remember the tattoo story I told you about Bernard and your dad?”
She could feel the beginnings of laughter rumble in her chest. “Yeah.”
“Well, let’s just say I was another victim. Although, there was no bet involved this time. I just got drunk, and he convinced me it would be a good idea.”
At this point, she was giggling uncontrollably and could barely get the words out. “What…wha-“
He looked distinctly uncomfortable as he continued. “I wasn’t sure he was going to ever tell you about it. He left me guessing, can you believe? He said he might or might not write about it in one of the letters to you.”
She held up a hand, “But what is it Carter? And where is it?”
He mumbled something under his breath.
“I can’t hear you,” she teased, even though she had. Her dad had been sadistic. Funny, too.
“I have Tinker Bell on my left ass cheek,” he repeated. By now his face was purple, and Sophie laughed so hard, when she swiped at the tears coming out of her eyes, she saw imprints from her mascara too.
“Oh my God, this is the best birthday gift ever. What did Laura say?” she giggled.
He still looked irate, but the corners of his lips lifted up. “She went on and got Peter Pan on her right one.”
She was in hysterics after that, and the time passed quickly as Carter relayed the circumstances under which her father had convinced him to get the tattoo done. Only Laura knew—and now her.
Even Bernard didn’t know.
“Can you imagine what he would have said after all the hell I gave him about the arrow on his ass?” Carter shuddered, sending her into a fit of giggles again.
The car drew to a halt.
“We’re here,” the driver announced.
She looked out of the tinted windows, before she looked back at Carter, confused.
“Why are we in the middle of nowhere?”
“Sweetheart, after things happened with Zach, there were weeks when I couldn’t even look at myself in the mirror.”
What did Zach have to do with any of this?
He drew in a deep breath. “I promised your dad I’d take care of you, and I’d let this cretin worm his way into your heart. After the wedding, even after I punched his stupid, dumb ass, I still felt like I could have done more, like I should have done more to protect you.”
“Oh Carter,” she murmured. “You shouldn’t blame yourself. It wasn’t your lapse in judgment. Anyway, did Nathan and Nick ever tell you about the time they caught up with him outside of a bar in the city?”
He narrowed his eyes at her and shook his head.
She smirked. “Probably best that you don’t know. Anyway it was around a year after the wedding and I got several picture texts from Zach at three o’clock in the morning.”
“What did my boys have to do with this?”
She pressed her lips together, trying to suppress a laugh. “Well, let’s just say that those selfies weren’t exactly his idea. He had a busted lip, a black eye, and a gash under his cheek. One of the pictures was with Nathan and Nick on each side of him, their arms around his neck, like they were old buddies…except they were the only ones smiling.”
Carter tried to look disapproving, but he failed miserably.
He cleared his throat. “ Anyway, my boys love you as much as Laura and I do. You’re family. But back to the guilt, it was your mother who told me to get over myself.”
“Huh?”
“Jeannie had flown up to New York to check on you, and you weren’t feeling up to going out, so Laura and I took her out to dinner after a show. I had a couple of whiskeys, and by the end of the night, you were all we talked about.
She was devastated for you, sweetheart. She knew I was just as devastated, but she told me something I hadn’t thought of before. She pointed out that even if your dad was alive, no one could have stopped you from getting together with Zach. You’ve got a heart of gold, doll, but you’re stubborn as a fucking mule sometimes.”
She laughed at that, but sobered quickly. “Carter, I hate that you felt guilty. And you’re right. That was a lesson I had to learn on my own, and if you guys—even if Daddy was alive, and he wasn’t supportive, it probably would have made me that much more drawn to Zach,” she smiled ruefully.
“And then this Lucas character, and that debacle—”
“I don’t want to talk about Lucas Sinclair,” she said quickly, interrupting him before he could go any further.
He examined her face so carefully, she felt like an insect under a magnifying glass. “What?”
Her tone wasn’t defensive.
It was not.
The shake of his head was slight, but his expression was gentle. “You, Sophie—my dear, you are going to be just fine. Just wonderful, in fact. Here is where we’ll part ways for now.”
Her brow wrinkled in confusion.
“You have some decisions to make, sweetheart. I have some reading material that I’ll leave with you.”
He handed her an envelope, and soundlessly, she took it.
What the hell was going on?
“I already have a letter from Dad for today,” she said, confused.
“Read it. I know you’ll make the right decision.”
Huh?
He leaned over and kissed her on the cheek before patting her face. “Ok sweetheart, my part is done. You’ll be fine, you’ll be amazing, don’t worry.”
Panic flared when he reached for his car handle to open the door.
“Where are you going?”
He just winked at her. “I don’t think you’ll want me around for later. After you’re done reading, just let the driver know where you want to go.”
With that, he slipped out of the car and shut the door.
Bewildered, she was helpless to do anything else but stare at the envelope in her hand as he vanished. It was blank – no number or witty phrase or code. The paper heavy cream vellum unlike the plain envelopes her father normally used in his letters.
She sighed heavily and used a fingernail to ease the flap of the top envelope open.
And when she saw her name greeted in bold scrawl, she stopped breathing.
My dear Sophie…my love,
I cannot begin to tell you how sorry I am about the scene that happened at the hotel. I know it’s been some time, but I needed to give it to you. I know what you think, and I can’t blame you…
The first time I saw you wasn’t at that bar. I know you think it was, and if you’d known the truth, you’d maybe have thrown something more substantial than a vibrator at my head.
Just kidding…
Yes, I was with Zach’s sister, Monica. We were together for far too long, but it was on and off. The connection I had with you, I never experienced with her. Monica was convenient and fit easily into my lifestyle.
But she didn’t want me, and somewhere deep down, I knew that too. It’s why I couldn’t give myself completely over to her.
I met Zach in college, and shortly after, I met his sister. I always felt like he was a snake, but before too long, Monica and I were dating seriously, and he was a part of her life that I chose to accept.
After she cheated on me the first time, I broke things off. She came back to me, crying and remorseful, and I took her back, but things had changed too much to ever be the same.
We were constantly on and off. I know you probably don’t want to hear this, but it was more physical than anything else.
And even the physicality was empty.
I first saw your face; your laughing, smiling, beautiful face after you and Zach had gotten engaged. He had a picture of you in his office, and I’d stopped by for lunch.
You were smiling at the camera, laughing at something Zach had probably said. I guess it was windy because the wind blew the strands of your hair in different directions, but you seemed to not care—unlike all the other women I’d met, except my sister and my mother, who needed to be perfect all the time.
You lived in the moment.
It’s burned in my memory, the way your beautiful lips stretched into a smile. Your eyes were dark, but they shined like diamonds all the same.
You were happiness, goodness, and beauty in one irresistible package.
I never forgot that image.
After I saw your image, it was seared in my brain. For the last four years, you’ve been the first thing I’ve seen in the morning, even before I open my eyes. I don’t think I need to tell you you’re the last thought in my mind when I shut them at night.
You never met me, because shortly afterwards, Monica and I broke up.
When I realized it was you in the bar that night, I couldn’t believe my luck.
My dream girl.
That’s what you are.
You were my dream girl, ready and ripe for the taking.
But how could I even begin to explain?
Four months before we met, I’d had an encounter with Monica. We always used protection, but she claimed a pregnancy resulted. I thought I was doing the right thing when I asked her to marry me. We’d known each other for so long, and I never suspected that she would lie to me.
I trusted her, but I was wrong.
Monica felt desperate to nail me down. She confessed this to Sean one evening while they were both in London. They were at a bar, both drinking.
When Sean came back and told me what had happened, I knew she’d lied…and I’d fallen easily for it.
By then, we’d met, but I promise you, we hadn’t done anything yet. That was why I went back to London – to break things off with her. She confessed the pregnancy was made up, and Sophie, my heart felt like it was going to burst out of my chest.
I was free to be with you.
I swear to you, when we were together for the first time, I belonged to no one else but you.
I belonged to you years before.
But that first time, that night you came apart and alive in my arms – I was there as myself. A man consumed with need for one woman.
An unattached man.
You have to believe that.
But how would I even begin to explain that we were connected from before? At the risk of sounding like a creep or a stalker, I kept it to myself, naively thinking that the right time would present itself.
When Zach showed up, it was to transfer assets I had loaned to him as collateral four years ago back to me. Any claims he had about businesses that I took over was a result of the money he owed me.