To Say Goodbye (14 page)

“Stop being a prude. Maybe that’s your problem. You were only with one man, right? Tim was it for you? See, maybe that’s why this is getting to you so much. You’ve been living the monogamous life too long. Now’s your chance.”

“Stella, you know people might call you insensitive for saying that.”

“Look, I loved Tim, and I’m sad about what happened. But you need to be... satisfied... if you know what I mean.... You’re only in your early thirties. So I say, follow this thing with Jackson where it goes. Enjoy it while it lasts. It’s not like you have to marry him.” She dramatically winked at the end.

Sophia grinned, shaking her head. She swiped a few tears. “I should have known better than to come to you for moral advice.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment. Now, before you go and I get back to, um, Larry... tell me about it.”

“About our kiss?”

“No, you idiot. About the socks you knitted. Yes, the kiss. How was it?”

“It was by the tortoise.”

“Um kinky, maybe?”

Sophia slapped her friend on the arm. “No. His son was nearby. He was busy feeding the tortoise and Jackson just, well, he just kissed me.”

“And?”

“And it was phenomenal, okay? Like, I didn’t want it to stop. Afterward, though, guilt tainted the whole thing. See, this is why nothing can come of this. I’ll just feel guilty.”

“So drink lots of wine afterward, wash away the shame, and you’ll be none the wiser.”

“Please don’t ever go into counseling.”

“Wasn’t planning on it. Look, I love you. It will be fine. Stop worrying about how you’re supposed to act and just act, okay?”

Sophia nodded, feeling strangely better after her chat with Stella. “I’ll let you get back to Larry now, I suppose?”

Stella winked. “And I’ll let you get back to Jackson. But please, no more tortoise stuff, all right? If you want to spice it up, I’ll give you some pointers that don’t involve creepy creatures.”

Sophia shook her head. “You’re ridiculous. But I love you. Thanks for helping me with my mini meltdown.”

“What are friends for?”

And with that, she winked and turned to go back to her Sunday afternoon activities while Sophia headed home alone.

_______________

“Okay, Mrs. Snowson, what color are you thinking?” Sophia asked the next morning. An evening of Netflix and wine, as Stella had suggested, had done the trick. She’d come into the shop feeling much better about everything.

Stella, on the other hand, didn’t look like she was feeling good about anything. Apparently she and Larry had too many activities last night.

“This golden red color is perfect,” the elderly lady said. “But don’t make it too red. And I don’t want it orange. So be careful.” Sophia nodded, silently heading over to mix up the color. Mrs. Snowson was a nice lady—although also very bossy. She wasn’t afraid to tell Sophia if she hated her hair or demand her to redo it. It was going to be a long morning.

When she returned, she started carefully painting Mrs. Snowson’s chin-length hair.

“So how is your boyfriend, dear?” The woman eyed her with a smug look, and Sophia’s stomach dropped. Stella glanced over, appraising the situation.

“Um, Mrs. Snowson, I don’t understand...” It was a small town. Everyone knew about Tim’s death.

“The guy with the kid? Jackson, is it? Word has it you were locking lips at the zoo yesterday.”

Sophia looked in the mirror, seeing herself blush. The pit of her stomach had the sinking feeling similar to when she was plummeting down a roller coaster. Except this roller coaster felt like it was lurching inconsistently toward her utter demise.

“Um, I... who did you hear this from?”

“My neighbor Jessie saw you two. She had her five-year-old girl, Veronica, there yesterday. Apparently they were in the same building as you and witnessed the kiss.”

Sophia froze, looking to Stella. She didn’t know what to say. This had been one of her fears. What should she say? Should she apologize? Explain?

She didn’t owe this woman any explanation. Like Stella said, her husband was dead. It wasn’t like she was cheating on her husband.

“What, Tim’s only been gone, like six months now? Right? If it were me, I don’t think I’d be able to move on so quickly.” Mrs. Snowson’s eyes met Sophia’s in the mirror.

Tears started stinging her eyes. She saw the prideful, snooty look of Mrs. Snowson. The woman was clearly just trying to make her feel bad.

It was working.

Before Sophia could assess the situation or figure out how to proceed, Stella stomped over, a flat iron in her hand. She knelt down into the old woman’s face, so close they were almost nose to nose.

“Get the hell out.” Stella’s voice was barely a whisper, but it was punctuated with such rage, everyone froze.

“Excuse me?”

“I said get the hell out of our shop. And don’t
fucking
come back.” Stella punctuated the final line, her voice in a solid crescendo. Her own client sat stone-faced. Sophia’s mouth fell open, her eyes widened. What was Stella doing?

Mrs. Snowson didn’t say a word. She simply creaked out of the chair, her hair painted with a few streaks of color, grabbed her purse, and headed to the door.

Sophia awaited a rude remark or an angry threat from the woman, but none came. She couldn’t blame her. Stella had been quite frightening.

Stella nodded at Sophia, headed back to her client, and continued working.

“So, did you say you wanted your ends flipped under or up?” she asked with a huge smile and a cheerful tone to her voice. The client, a middle-aged woman who was introverted on a normal day, just nodded. “Flipped under it is!” Stella proclaimed, spinning the chair cheerfully, acting as if she hadn’t just flown into a rage and threatened a client.

Sophia marched to the back room to get herself together before her next client.

She couldn’t believe the nerve of Mrs. Snowson. Then again, this wasn’t really the woman’s fault. It had been her own. Mrs. Snowson was right. It had been six months since Tim’s death. Six lonely, lousy months. What kind of message was she sending? How much could Tim have meant if after all those years together, she only spent six months grieving for him?

She had to cool things down with Jackson. As good as his lips felt on hers, as good as it was to be with him, she had to put some distance there.

She had to grieve for Tim.

Sophia

S
he looked around to make sure no one was nearby, and then she felt like an idiot. She wasn’t breaking into someone’s house, and she wasn’t on a spy mission. This was just an adult, widowed woman going to a friend’s house to talk. She had nothing to be guilty about.

Mrs. Snowson, though, had made her paranoid. She was worried about becoming the talk of the town—although apparently she already was.

She’d called Jackson a few hours ago, still having his phone number from their encounter at the mall.

“Can I come over?”

“Yeah, of course,” he’d happily replied and given her his address. He’d sounded pleased, content to hear from her. He had no way of knowing how wrong things were.

He answered the door wearing a simple gray T-shirt and jeans, his signature two-day stubble accenting his jawline. His rugged hand extended toward his apartment, and she tried not to think about how firm, how strong his hands felt on her. She tried not to look at those lips that had expertly parted hers, or the gorgeous steel eyes that had made her feel like putty a couple short days ago.

“Come on in,” he said, leading her in. The place was simple, bare. It was missing a woman’s touch, only the basic essentials visible. It was clear he had probably tidied up because there were no signs of living. That, or he was a total clean freak.

“Can I sit down?” she asked formally. He scrunched his eyebrows, clearly detecting this visit wasn’t a jovial one.

“Yeah, go ahead,” he said, leading her toward the sofa. He sat a respectable distance away, obviously sensing she needed space.

She clutched her purse on her lap, fiddling with the strap as she talked.

“I wanted to talk about the other day, at the zoo.”

He waited, not saying anything, apparently waiting for her to take the lead.

“It was a mistake. I’m sorry I was swept up in it. I feel awful.”

“I’m the one who initiated it, Sophia. You have nothing to be sorry about.”

“I do. I do have to be sorry. Because it wasn’t right. Your son was there. Tim hasn’t been gone very long, and he was your friend. We have no right to be kissing.”

He inched closer to her now, reaching for her hand. She pulled away, looking up at him and wincing.

“Don’t.”

He pulled back, clearly wondering what had changed. “Sophia, I know this is hard. And awkward. But I’m not sorry about our kiss. Not at all. It was amazing.”

“I know. And that’s the problem. It
was
amazing. But my life with Tim was amazing, too. People are talking in town, and it’s disrespectful. People think I didn’t care about him, that I’ve forgotten him. That I’ve just thrown out our life together.”

“What people are talking?”

“A lady in the beauty shop. She said some things about us.”

“Who is it?”

“It doesn’t matter, Jackson. That’s not the point. The point is I can’t go around kissing you in public like I’m a free woman. Because I’m not.”

“But you are.”

“No, I’m not! I still love him, Jackson.
I still love him
. We can’t just rebound with each other.”

“It wasn’t a rebound, not for me.”

Sophia didn’t say anything, was afraid to admit the truth. It wasn’t a rebound for her either. It wasn’t. But she couldn’t say that. What kind of woman fell for a new man after six months? What kind of woman fell for her late husband’s best friend? She couldn’t do this. She owed Tim more respect.

“Jackson, I appreciate everything you’ve done for me these past months. You’ve made this bearable. I love spending time with you. But we can’t anymore.”

“Sophia, don’t do this. Tim would want you to be happy.”

“No, Jackson. Tim would want to be here with me if he could. He would want to be the one kissing me, and dancing with me, and holding me. But he can’t. And I can’t go off with his best friend. I can’t do it, Jackson. Every time I look at you, I feel guilty.” Tears were now flowing down her face. She tried to wipe them away. She stood up, walking to the edge of the living room to avoid his face, his eyes that would certainly make her lose her nerve.

“I can’t spend time with you anymore. I’m sorry.”

He leapt up to stop her, but she brushed by him. Tears flowing, she managed to make it to the door. She walked out the door, her resolve steadfast. Not stopping to hear his thoughts, she shut the door behind her.

She was doing the right thing. She was making the respectable choice.

It didn’t mean her heart wasn’t aching. For the first time in a while, she felt utterly, coldly alone, lost in a vast sea of dismal gloom and hopelessness.

_______________

“Don’t be mad.”

“Why would I be mad?”

“Just trust me.”

“What have you two done?”

“Close your eyes.”

“Stella?”

“Just close them.”

Sophia sighed, not truly wanting to comply. She was feeling more blue than usual after the whole Mrs. Snowson fiasco and the
I can’t see you anymore
episode. She’d been doing the usual these days—watching Netflix. Alone. Stella was on a date with Larry.

Or so Sophia thought. Because now the two were standing in her living room, giddy as two children on Christmas morning. It was making her nervous.

“You two are scaring me.”

“It’s not scary. It’s perfect. I should’ve thought of it sooner. Just don’t be mad.”

“When you say that, it makes me mad already.”

Sophia sighed, peering at Stella first and then Larry. Finally, she succumbed to Stella’s orders and closed her eyes.

“Now what?”

“Now we wait for Larry to go to the car and get your surprise.”

“You do know I told you I’m not celebrating my birthday this year.”

“You know I never listen. Besides, your birthday isn’t until next week. We’ll call it a ‘yay, it’s the end of January’ gift.”

“The ‘yay, it’s the end of January’ gift better not be a blind date. Because I’m in my pajamas.”

“Oh, he won’t mind.”

Sophia’s heart stopped. She opened her eyes. “What? Are you serious?” Panic ensued.

“Shut your eyes,” Stella demanded, putting a hand over Sophia’s face.

“I’m going to kill you.”

“Not yet you’re not. Oh, here he is!” Stella let out a squeal, and Sophia tried to move her hand.

“Can I open them yet?” Sophia was nervous as hell. Then she was even more nervous because something was sniffing her foot.

“Open them!” Stella proclaimed, clapping cheerfully as Sophia looked down to see her surprise.

A floppy, clumsy tan puppy with a black muzzle waddled around Sophia’s feet.

Her jaw fell open and she eyed the two curiously. “A puppy? Are you kidding?”

“What? It’s awesome. You’re always sitting here, alone. Now you’ll have a Netflix buddy.”

“Guys, I can’t keep it. No, no, no.”

The puppy sniffed her foot, but she tried not to look at its fluffy cuteness. It tripped over her foot, and she almost laughed.

Almost.

She crossed her arms, staring Stella down. “This is a terrible surprise. I don’t have time for a puppy.”

“You have plenty of time,” Stella said, not backing down. “Plus, he’s adorable. And expensive. But mostly adorable. So you can’t reject him. Look at him, he loves you already.”

Sophia took a deep breath. “Guys, I appreciate it, but really...”

“Hold him,” Stella demanded, picking up the puppy and placing it in Sophia’s arms. “Love him. He just wants to be loved.”

Sophia felt the big—and mighty heavy—bundle of fur in her arms. He was soft and warm, and he was giving her the doughiest eyes she’d ever seen. She felt her heart melt just a little bit.

“He’s freaking heavy. How old is he? Like eight months?”

“Um, eight weeks.”

Sophia froze. “What? What is he?”