Where Beauty Lies (Sophia and Ava London) (19 page)

“And I’m looking out for yours. I am positive if you go to Starbucks, something great will happen to you.”

Sophia scrutinized her. “And if it doesn’t?”

Ava nodded toward the kitchen area. “I’ll let you have the last two Oreos.”

“You’re on,” Sophia said.

Now that she was outside and past the reporters, Sophia had to admit that the fresh air felt great. And she wouldn’t mind if something great happened to her. Because she was feeling a little out of kilter.

Ever since they’d gotten the ransom note, Sophia had felt like something was wrong with her. All her reactions were off, as though they were minutely delayed or shifted, so what had once been comfortingly familiar now felt strange.

She’d first noticed it on the red carpet, but it was even more clear when she and Hunter had finally gotten to be alone together. She’d put her head against his chest and felt his arms come around her and waited for the safe feeling to come. But it hadn’t. It was like after what had happened to Popcorn and Charming, nothing could feel right. Not even Hunter’s arms.

They felt good, just—different.

She really was fabulously happy that he had come. And obviously she loved him or she wouldn’t have been so upset the day before because she thought he was bouncing her calls. When actually he’d been on the plane coming to see her.

“I realized all our problems were exacerbated by distance so I thought I’d come a few days early and take care of that,” he’d said when they were curled up together, talking in her room the night before.

“Thank you,” she’d said, letting her hand linger on the smooth planes of his chest. “That was really—”

“Necessary,” he finished for her. “When we had that big discussion you said you thought we should talk on the phone less, that you’d be able to think about me more if you weren’t always worried about calling me, and that you felt torn between your work and me. Obviously I never wanted you to feel that way.”

“I know,” she’d told him, marveling at how solid he was.

“You said you worried that my desire to know where you were and what you were doing was part of an old pattern that wasn’t healthy for me or for us. And I realized, you were right about all of it.” He shifted so that she was looking at him. “By coming, I solve both our problems: you can focus on your work and never think about calling me because I’m here, and I can avoid falling into a panic over being abandoned because I’ll be right nearby all the time.” He grinned. “It’s a perfect solution, right?”

“Wow,” Sophia had said. “Amazing.” He’d clearly listened to what she’d said, but she felt like his solution addressed only the surface issues. It was like putting a fresh coat of paint on a crumbling wall, creating an illusion of progress while just covering over the cracks and dirt. His proposal seemed open-minded but really all he’d done was hide his overprotectiveness. There would be no reason for her to call him, and no reason for him to wonder where she was, because they’d be together all the time.

She could already imagine how further conversations would go. If she complained, he would look hurt and say isn’t this what she wanted, less having to call him, having to let him know where she was. She’d point out that really nothing had changed, in some ways it was worse—

Then he’d jump on that. Worse? Was it bad, then? And depending on his mood, he’d pout or apologize.

Sophia pulled herself up short. What was she doing? He’d flown all the way there to be with her, to try to work on their problems. And all she was doing was shadowboxing in her head.

That ended now. Whatever was making her so edgy had nothing to do with Hunter, she suspected. She was just taking out on their relationship all her anxiety and stress and fear about the show.

The deep unfairness of it hit her hard, and she determined to make it up to him. In fact, she’d take him out for a romantic dinner that night. Just the two of them, all her attention completely focused on—

Sophia felt like she’d walked into a solid tree. Only it was a tree with arms that came around her and a warm, honeyed voice that said, “
Stella mia.
It is destiny, no, that you walk right into my arms.”

Sophia took a quick step backward. “No,” she said.

Giovanni smiled at her, a different smile than any of the eleven variations she remembered and had cataloged in her head. This one was a little sad, a little serious, both of which were strange for him.

Something had changed inside him. She had the sense that he’d gone through something deeply painful or deeply harrowing.

He reached up to tuck her hair behind her ear and she grabbed his hand and held it between both of hers. “What happened to you?”

The new smile vanished, replaced by the flirtatious one she’d become accustomed to. “Why? Do I not make a good impression?” He turned to the left and the right. “Have my looks suffered since the last time we met?”

She frowned. “This isn’t about your looks.”

“There is that in your tone which tells me that you are not completely delighted with me. Am I correct?”

“What are you doing here?” she asked, ducking his question.

The studio was just around the corner but the place where she’d run into Giovanni was a particularly sad-looking part of the neighborhood. One corner was occupied by a large construction site that looked like it hadn’t been worked on in months, another had a deli that advertised cigarettes, candy, lotto, and gum, a third had a shuttered storefront, and the fourth held a pillar for the rusty elevated train tracks above them.

“It is a lovely spot, of course,” Giovanni said, pulling his coat more tightly around him as a gust of cold wind ricocheted off the pillar and whipped past them, “but actually I came to see you. I hear you have your design studio somewhere near this place, so I plan to walk around until I find you.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Sophia said. “That wasn’t really your plan.”

“How ridiculous?” He shrugged one shoulder. “Did you or no walk right into my arms? It is okay, you do not need to be embarrassed, I know my magnetism is impossible for you to resist.”

“You were standing in the middle of a fairly deserted sidewalk,” she said.

“Just so,” he answered. “Where anyone and their cat could see me. And yet you alone do not see me. So you alone crash into me.”

She laughed, despite herself. This conversation was as surreal as the one she’d had with Hunter the night before, Sophia thought, although at least this one was funny.

“Why did you come to see me?” she asked.

“Because I desire to speak with you? I hear about your small furry friend and I imagine how you must feel. And I wish to congratulate you.”

“About what?” Sophia said.

“Often, I find myself remembering your face when he was small and you worried that you could not decide what name to call him.” He reached out and touched her cheek with one finger. “So much worry for one girl. But now I see from the newspaper reports that you picked a name, so I wish to give you the congratulations.”

“I was going to call him
Stella,
” Sophia blurted.

“Yes?” His eyes momentarily widened and for an instant she caught that same sad, serious smile. “But then the friend who suggest this to you disappears, and you think, perhaps such a name is not good luck.”

“Something like that.” She looked past his shoulder, not wanting to meet his eyes. “Why didn’t you text me?”

“Ahh,” he said, drawing out the syllable. “Yes. The text. This is a long story for another time. But not far away. Next week?” he said hopefully.

“Why can’t you tell me now?”

“It has the many tiny, you say, fastenings?”

“Facets,” Sophia guessed.

“Yes, exactly.” He raised an eyebrow. “You see how still our minds beat as one? Many tiny facets that today will cause me pain but next week it will be like eating pie to speak of them.”

Sophia worked to keep her tone flat. “I’m sorry I’ll miss it. I’ll be back in Los Angeles next week.”

Giovanni tilted his head, a sad twinkle in his dark eyes. “‘I go to Los Angeles,’ she says, cool like gelato, as though the thought of leaving Giovanni causes her no pain.”

She offered a polite smile. “It doesn’t.”

He took her hand and pressed it to his chest and she felt his heart beating. Fast, as though he was nervous. “A little? Do not, I beg you, say it causes no feeling, no pain at all. You char my heart.”

“Char?” Sophia repeated.

“Maybe is not the right word? Burn your name upon it? So now I”—he made a face like he was tasting something unpleasant—“taste only ashes.”

Sophia didn’t want to laugh, she wanted to be angry, but she couldn’t help it.

“Yes, this is much better,” he said, slipping his fingers between hers. “Now I hear again the music of the angels. I propose this. I say we do not want to be hogs and not share this magical sidewalk with others, so let us leave and you show me the studio of Sophia and Ava London. When we are there with maybe less fresh air whipping around the face—though I feel very vitalized—I give you the taste of my story, and then next week, all is revealed.”

Over Giovanni’s shoulder Sophia saw the Contessa’s dark blue Maybach round the corner a block to the south on its way to the studio. She was relieved that they were out of sight because she didn’t want Giovanni to see Hunter. Or Hunter to see Giovanni.

But she could picture Hunter opening the door for the Contessa, a perfect gentleman. Imagine his straight back and broad shoulders, serious, firm, unwavering as the press engulfed the woman like a school of ants on a leftover cupcake.

Serious, firm, unwavering,
Sophia repeated to herself, and added,
reliable.
Those were the attributes she wanted in a partner.

Through that lens, she told herself, Giovanni’s charms dwindled. She thought about her conversation with Ava in the town car, how clear Ava’s preference had been to her, and realized that hers was just as clear. Giovanni was funny and charismatic and entertaining. But he was also irresponsible, immature, impractical, and unpredictable. You could count on him to amuse you, but you couldn’t count on him for much else.

Aren’t you being a little unfair?
her mind asked.
He said there was an explanation.

Next week,
another part of her mind said.
What kind of explanation has a Do Not Open Until stamp on it? A lie, that’s what kind.

Maybe he’s waiting to hear about a new job,
the first part pointed out.
And you did notice a new seriousness about him that could suggest
—

Whose side are you on? Besides, it doesn’t matter, because you love Hunter. Who is waiting for you right now around the corner.

“Goodbye, Giovanni,” she said, pulling her hand from his. “Be well.”

“How will I be well with ashes for a heart?” he called after her as she walked toward the showroom. “And also my hand, which you stopped holding, now feels lifeless. Like a noodle hand. No more fingers, now I have only finguini.”

Sophia couldn’t stop the laughter that bubbled out of her then. But as if repenting, immediately afterward she pulled out her phone and wrote to Hunter: “You made a very sexy Sherlock Holmes this morning and an even sexier bodyguard now.”

Hunter’s reply was nearly instantaneous: “How do you know?”

“Can’t you sense my presence?” she text-teased.

“You are cruel,
stella mia,
” Giovanni called right as she turned the corner. “But you will come around. This is not the end.”

She watched Hunter’s face light up when he caught sight of her and thought,
Yes, it is.

He would never have facets or long, complicated stories he couldn’t tell you until next week. He would just be Hunter. Always.

She began to walk to him but he put up a hand, so she stood off to one side, watching him and thinking about how seriously he took even the most basic duties.

Finally, when there was a pause in the questions, he slid away, reached for Sophia, and wrapped his arms around her.
It’s starting to feel like home again,
she assured herself. This was where she belonged. This was what she wanted.

The Contessa turned and glowered at her. “You are making a distraction. Take your Hunter and go.”

They laughed as they dashed around the reporters, through the lobby, and into the elevator, but as soon as the doors closed he pulled her to him and kissed her softly on the lips. A nice, friendly kiss, she thought.

“I am crazy about you,” he said to her.

“I know. And I’m crazy about you.”
Friendly?
she asked herself. It had been better than that.
Hadn’t it?

“Good.” He grinned. “Just checking in.”

“In fact I was thinking we could go somewhere special for dinner tonight.” Their eyes met in the mirrored surface of the doors. “Just the two of us.”

The look of pure joy that swept across his face made Sophia feel Christmas-card warm inside.

Sophia could tell as soon as she stepped off the elevator that something was wrong with Ava, and that Ava was working very hard not to show it.

Lily, MM, Sven, and Sam were gathered around a monitor in one corner, watching the footage they’d just shot at the Central Park Boathouse, that they would turn into a video to help the girls learn the layout for the show. Daisy was compiling stacks of photocopied packets on another table, and an assortment of strangers were putting exquisitely wrapped boxes and beautifully stitched silk sachets into cloth bags printed with one of their patterns that she’d never seen before.

She said to Hunter, “I’m afraid I need to leave you on your own for a while.”

“That’s why I’m here,” he told her amiably and curved off toward the group watching the video.

Sophia leaned against the table next to Ava’s seat. “What’s up?”

“I had an idea I wanted to show you in the workroom.” Ava said, her voice strangely flat. She grabbed her purse and held it open. “Drop your phone in here.”

The oddness of Ava’s tone surprised Sophia, and she was even more surprised when Ava dropped the purse onto her seat and left it there as she started toward the workroom.