65

Sophie
I bend over the toilet and throw up my breakfast. Again.
Gah. My stomach’s been a mess for a few days. I must’ve eaten something bad.
I hear the jingle of the bells on the door to the studio sound. Good thing Joey is my next client. “I’m back” I heave again.
Ugh. Embarrassing. And disgusting. I quickly rinse my mouth out with water from the sink as Joey appears in the open doorway to the bathroom.
“Babygirl, are you sick?” He touches the back of his hand to my forehead. “You don’t have a fever.”
My head feels fuzzy, and I’m really tired. I gaze up at him through bleary eyes. “Yeah, I guess. I’ve had an upset stomach for a few days. It seems to be getting worse.”
“Aw, baby. What the hell are you doing here? You’re sick, angel.”
“I just have one client after you, and I can go home and rest.”
“Fuck that. Call your client and cancel. I’m taking you home.”
I groan. I absolutely hate to cancel on clients. A lot of them won’t reschedule, and I really need to keep all of them. I barely have enough to stay afloat. “No, I really can’t cancel.” I glance at the appointment scheduler on my tablet. I have four massages scheduled for tomorrow and three the next day. Getting sick isn’t an option.
Joey picks it up. “Come on, let’s go,” he says firmly, opening the door. “Get in the car.”
I feel crappy enough not to argue. In fact, having someone strong-willed make this decision for me comes as a relief. I turn docile, following Joey out of the office, standing there fuzzy-headed as he takes my keys to lock up.
“Come on, bella. Let’s get you home to bed.” He leads me to his car and opens the door for me, handing me in like a gentleman.
I have to admit, it sure is nice to be taken care of by a man. I would expect a guy like Joey to slay dragons for me. Bully the tow truck driver, sure. Intimidate my date who won’t take a hint.
But this? This nurturing, caretaking side of him?
It’s downright swoony. I haven’t had a guy like him in my life before, and it’s deeply settling. Once more, he conveys that sense of home.
When Joey climbs behind the wheel, I say, “You don’t have to do this, Joey.”
“The fuck I don’t. You’re my girl. I’m gonna take care of you when you’re sick.”
My eyes burn.
Joey drives to a drug store and picks up crackers, canned soup, ginger ale and Pepto Bismol. Then he drives me home.
He opens the door with my key. “I’m making a copy of this key,” he tells me.
“That’s a little presumptuous, don’t you think?” I’m teasing, though. I’m starting to love the fact that Joey has wormed his way into my life.
“I’m looking after you, and I need a key.”
“Do you ever stop pushing, bossman?”
He shakes his head and leads me to the bedroom. “You get in bed. You want the ginger ale? Or how about some tea?”
This guy. “Tea would be great. It’s in the second drawer next to the refrigerator.”
“Which kind?”
“Ginger, please.” I collapse on the bed.
I can’t believe Joey LaTorre is tucking me in bed and making me tea. Why? It doesn’t make sense.
He returns with a steaming mug of ginger tea. “Here you go, I put a little honey in it.”
“Mmm, thank you.” The tea settles my queasiness.
He kicks off his shoes and settles next to me on the bed, opening my appointment calendar on my tablet and pulling out his cell phone.
“I can do it.” I reach for them.
He pulls them out of my reach. “Clearly you need a little help.”
I chew a fingernail, nervous he might be too curt or say something rude to my client.
“Hello, Darla? Yes, I’m calling for Sophie Palazzo. She’s feeling under the weather, so I’m canceling her appointments… Yes, she wouldn’t want you to catch it… of course, of course. I can reschedule you for next week.” He scrolls through the appointments on the tablet to the following week. “How about next week at the same time? Okay, great. I have you down. Thank you.”
I stare at him. Pretty sure my jaw’s hanging open. He grins. “You didn’t think I had it in me, did you?”
There he goes, calling me on my prejudice again.
“I could call her back and tell her she’d better book with you every week, or I’ll slash her tires.”
I smack him with the back of my hand, smiling ruefully. “I just never expected you to play secretary.”
“I prefer to think of myself as your ‘handler.'” He straightens his collar.
I laugh, which makes me clutch my queasy stomach.
“I’m canceling tomorrow’s appointments, too.”
I don’t argue, just cast him a grateful look. “You’re something else, LaTorre,” I mutter, snuggling deeper in the covers.
He settles next to me, staring up at the ceiling. “I figured out which musical we are.”
“You did?” I laugh, loving that he actually knows musicals and can use them as metaphors.
“Grease. I’m John Travolta, and you’re Olivia Newton-John, God rest her soul.” He rolls over and looks at me. “You’re just sampling a little bad-boy action with me, aren’t you?”
My mouth goes dry, and I sit back up to sip on the tea again, stalling an answer.
“I’m not the guy you settle down with. Not the safe guy you’d love, but the dangerous one who makes your pulse race.”
I turn sweaty and clammy, and it’s not just the fever. I want to tell him he’s wrong, but I can’t. He’s dead on.
He rolls to his back again, staring at the ceiling. “You are something different to me, too. I knew, I knew right away I wanted you-for keeps. There are things you know in your head, and there are things you know from your gut. I knew in my gut you belonged to me.”
The words “you belonged to me” should offend me, but they don’t. The idea of belonging to Joey has grown on me. In fact, if it means being cared for this way, I just might be all in.
“I think my gut knows something about you, but my head won’t let me hear it,” I whisper the confession.
He leans up on an elbow and strokes my cheek. “Then give it time, babygirl. Don’t write us off until you’re sure of the message, okay?”
My eyes burn, and I nod, rolling against his hard body, snuggling in for a cuddle. I fall asleep to his hand stroking lazily up and down my back.
Joey
Sophie’s definitely sick. She crashes and sleeps for three hours. I should get over to Swank and check on things, but I’m reluctant to leave her.
Not that I think she’s deathly ill or anything.
But it doesn’t matter.
She’s not feeling good, and I want to be nearby. I want to take care of her.
Eventually, I hear her up and around, using the toilet, then stumbling out of the bedroom.
She shrieks when she finds me sitting on the couch in the living room texting Al.
“Shh, it’s just me.” I get up.
“Oh hey.” She rubs her face. “Have you been here this whole time? How long was I out?”
“A few hours. How are you feeling?”
“I’m still barfy. Joey?”
“What do you need, bella?”
Her eyes round with worry, which makes me want to smash whatever it is that’s bothering her to smithereens. “I think…could you go back to the drug store?”
“Of course. What can I get you, doll?”
She swallows. “A pregnancy test.”
My heart stops. Then double-pumps. “Oh. Oh wow.”
Her face is pale. “Yeah, I just thought of it. I’m a few days late, and the queasiness…it’s probably nothing, but just to be sure?”
“Yeah, of course. Yeah, I’m headed out right now.”
You might have thought the building was on fire. I dropped a kiss on the top of her head and practically sprinted out to my car.
A pregnancy test. A pregnancy test.
Sophie might be pregnant.
How did this happen? Well, duh, condoms aren’t fool-proof. Al gave me that lecture when I turned fourteen.
By the time I get to the drug store, I’ve run the scenarios in my mind, and I’m hoping for two lines on the test stick. I’m already at the church kissing my bride.
I know Sophie’s skittish. I know she’s not sure she wants to be in a relationship with me. But I also know when we’re together, she’s happy. I know we have an insane amount of chemistry, and beyond that, we understand each other. We have history. And maybe I like the fact that there’s still a bit of winning her over to do. She’s the kind of woman who will keep me on my toes. I’m the kind of guy who loves a challenge.
So if that test stick shows two lines, I figure it’s meant to be. It’s the exact impetus we need to push us the rest of the way together.
I buy a couple of test kits, just in case she wants to double-check the results, and then I hit the candy aisle where I find a candy ring. I check out and go to my car, pocketing the ring, rehearsing proposal speeches in my head.
I find Sophie pacing back and forth when I get back. She snatches the bag from me and runs off to the bathroom.
I trail behind and wait at the closed door, my palms sweating, my mouth dry.
A minute later, she opens the door, jumping back when she finds me just behind it. “Oh.” She thrusts the stick at me. “We have to wait another minute before we know.”
I wrap my arms around her from behind, holding the test window right in front of her, so we can both watch it.
“I-is that another line?”
“I think it is,” I murmur in her ear.
“This…was not the plan,” she croaks.
“Fate intervened, bella.” I set the stick on the sink and gather her close in my arms, rocking her slightly back and forth and meeting her stricken gaze in the mirror. “When I was supposed to marry Amelia, it seemed like the right thing. Like I was following the plan. I was going to marry a nice Catholic girl and have a family. But I felt completely empty. The plan sucked.”
I can feel her heart hammering through her back, up against my ribs. She’s trembling a little, but her gaze is glued to mine, like I’m somehow going to deliver her from her fears.
“With you, Soph, the idea of a family is wild and colorful. Full of music and laughter and possibility. I don’t know what it would look like. It’s not a cookie cutter thing that was derived from a plan. It’s an ever-evolving, dynamic, beautiful relationship. One fate chose for us.”
“Is it?” she whispers like she wants to believe but isn’t quite sure.
“Why do you think I was drawn to you at your dad’s funeral? I was a selfish prick in my twenties. I didn’t give anyone the time of day, but I made room in my cold heart for you. I think some part of me must’ve known, then.”
“Known what?” She turns to look at me over her shoulder now, away from the mirror.
I rotate her in my arms and cradle her face. “That you would be mine.”
I pull out the candy ring and drop to one knee. “Sophie,” I attempt to convey with every ounce of sincerity in my heart, “I know you think I’m not the safe guy, the one you raise your kids with. But I need you to know there is no one safer for you than me. I’ll be your man. I’ll take care of you. I’ll provide for and protect our family. I won’t fuck around. I won’t break your heart. You can count on me. I’m a man of my word.”
Sophie’s eyes glisten with unshed tears. I pull her to perch on my bent knee. “Marry me?”
She laugh-cries, taking the candy ring from me and unwrapping it. “You got me a candy ring?”
“I’ll get you a real one tomorrow. We’ll go together and pick one out. I want you to have something you love.”
A tear drips down her face.
“Are those happy tears, baby? Please say yes.”
She swallows and nods. “Yes.” She lets out a sob with another laugh. She wraps her arms around my neck. “I can’t believe you just proposed with a candy ring on the bathroom floor.”
“Yeah, not my best-executed move, but it will be a story to tell the grandkids, right?” We both climb to our feet.
The color’s come back to Sophie’s face. There’s a happy glow around her, like she can see the same vision I can, and she likes it. “Our grandkids.” Her eyes get bright again. “We’re having a baby.”
“It was meant to be.”
She wraps her arms around me and leans her face against my chest. “I’m having your baby.” There’s wonder in her voice.
I feel it, too. Something unexpected and wonderful just happened to us.
To me. Sophie’s mine.