Chapter 61

I’m more relaxed after my bath, warm and lazy from the hot soak and wrapped in a fluffy robe, carrying
my clothes. I leave his room and head back towards my own for tonight. Head full of things I want to
say to him and lost in how I’m going to convince him that going home is not what’s best for me
anymore. I’ve managed to push all the other stuff aside, boxed it in the ‘we will evaluate later’ area of
my overly crowded brain. I need to prioritize not going home first.

I jump when his voice comes from right behind me.

“It’s late; maybe we should go to bed and talk over breakfast.”

I spin on him as he dumps his car keys on the table and hauls off his hoody to reveal a t-shirt molded to
that hunky frame. Tattoos peeking at the neckline and the sleeve down one arm that makes his
muscles a little too enticing. I turn away and clear my throat, shocked at how differently my insides
react to the familiar sight.

“I guess.” I hesitate, not sure if I should make a stand and make it clear tonight that he has no chance
of making me go home, or if I should let him sleep, become more amenable to what I want after some
rest. He looks exhausted. There is so much to talk about, so much mess to pick through and I really
have no clue where to even start.

“I called my brother and told him you were here. He’s going around to see your parents to let them
know you’re with me.” Arrick walks to the kitchen, looking over his shoulder at me. His eyes meeting
and sending another bout of strange tingles through my stomach. He seems, not him.

Maybe it’s the stubble shadow and how messy his hair is, or the way he’s casually wrinkled and about
a million times different from how he normally looks. I can’t even begin to dissect why this feels
abnormal, why, to me, he looks new. The air between us feels completely alien.



“I meant what I said. I don’t want to go back to the Hamptons just yet. I need to figure my life out, Arry,
and I don’t just mean over us. I need something more. I won’t find it back there.” I answer calmly, more
grounded after the headspace I got from having a bath. Feeling calmer and more in control as things
filter through.

Arrick is by the coffee machine now, lifts out two mugs from the cupboard over his head, implying, even
though he said we should go to bed, that maybe he is open for discussion now after all. I sigh and
tighten my robe, not sure if I am even up to this at this moment. I’m exhausted too, so much emotional
bullshit lately and I am not equipped for any of it tonight.

“You mean a job? You never acted like you wanted one before.” He goes about making the coffee with
creamer, moving around the modern black and slate high gloss kitchen easily.

“I mean, maybe a job, I was thinking maybe school or something.” It’s weird after the conversation in
the hall back at the other apartment, to be talking so platonically and normal as though nothing has
happened at all. Even though I don’t feel like this is usual between us, on the surface, it’s still the same
old Sophs and Arry, talking about life.

Arrick regards me thoughtfully as he carries our mugs to the living room and lays them on the low rustic
table. He slides down on the couch, motioning for me to do the same then sits back, his calm gaze
settling on mine. I tighten the robe further, using it as security around me, and sit on the couch, keeping
a three feet gap between us on the long chair. He watches me silently, then stretches forward and
slides one of the mugs further along so I can reach it, trying not to acknowledge my chosen distance.
Settling back, he turns to his side and pulls a leg onto the couch, so he can angle towards me and face
me.

“Okay … Any ideas what you want to do?” Arrick is in mature mode. So many times in my past he’s
taken on this paternal role and been my sounding board for hopes and dreams; I couldn’t love him



anymore this second if I tried. If only I wasn’t still pissed at him for abducting me aggressively from
Camilla’s friend’s apartment.

He’s making it clear he’s going to hear me out, not just do a Jake and order me home like he said he
would do, and I have a chance of making him listen to me. Get him on my side and maybe convince
everyone else that I need this.

“I don’t know, I was thinking something in fashion, maybe. I like clothes and I think I would like to learn
how to design and make them. I think it would make me happy.” I mutter it feebly, unsure if he’s going
to laugh at my suggestion, and the truth is, it isn’t just a weak idea or vague possibility like I’m implying.
I’ve actually located a couple in the state and downloaded applications already when I was soaking in
the tub. I’m serious about this. I want this more than anything and the bubble of excitement that hit me
when I decided that I wanted to go, was like a little candle flame in the dark. I don’t want him to snub it
out.

“There’s a design school here in New York. Carrero Corp sometimes uses the students to do the
campaign clothes for the grooming lines. We’re investors in the school. You always did like sewing and
customizing your outfits I guess, so maybe it’s worth looking at.” Arrick leans forward, catching his mug
and takes it back with him to sit and sip. His eyes never leave mine. My heart soars a little with his
response, a little tingle of adoration that he’s always supported me, in every way. “I just never figured
you were really interested in anything like that as more than a hobby.” He shrugs with one shoulder,
highlighting its crazy width and I have to avert my gaze from the sudden rounded muscular mannerism
that has me pressing my knees together. I have no idea what that reaction even is.

“I’ve always liked clothes, always wished I could sew my own designs. I guess life just had a way of
getting in the way, and I thought people would think it a stupid career to follow.” I never told him that my
parents rejected it years ago. I felt embarrassed that it was just a childish dream. He knew I’d thought
of pursuing it back then, of course, he just assumed I lost interest and grew up.



Arrick sighs heavily, watching me with that closed off expression, where I can never tell how he will
react.

“Is this a serious thing, or a spur-of-the-moment thing, Sophs? Because if you’re serious, you know I’ll
do whatever you need to get this going, even find you a place to stay close by if it’s what you really
want. If you really are committed to turning things around and going down this route, then I’m not going
to stand in your way.” He’s watching me, scrutinizing me closely for any signs that this isn’t serious, that
I’m not sure. I’ve had hours and hours to think about this, days, weeks even, and I know it’s what I
want. What I need in my life. That sense of purpose.

“I want it, Arry. I want something that’s for me and a focus on a future that’s more than just this.” I throw
my hands up at the grand surroundings, knowing with my family’s money I never really need to work. I
can live my whole life as a pampered brat with an allowance to get by without ever feeling the sting of
poverty, but maybe that’s where my sense of free-falling constantly comes in. “I feel like I have no
purpose, no life goals.”


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