Page 112 of Spearcrest Queen

Her mother looks down at her lap. Her father clears his throat, blinks hard. I can tell that both of them are struggling to speak, and something tells me that they’re exactly like Sophie: they don’t want me to see them break.

So I smile at them as kindly as I can.

“Don’t worry, alright? Sophie loves you, and she’s going to be alright. You’ll see.” I push my chair back and stand. “I better go check on her. I’ll take her home, but tomorrow, we’ll take you to the airport. She’ll want to see you before you go.”

Sophie’s mother smiles mutely, and her father gives me a grateful nod. Before I leave, I settle the check and order a cab to take them back to their hotel. And then I grab my jacket and leave.

I find Sophie outside, standing beneath the glow of a streetlamp, arms wrapped tightly around herself. The May air is crisp, almost chilly, Sophie’s dark hair shifting slightly in the wind.

“You alright?” I ask, pressing my lips to her temples.

She doesn’t turn, and her voice comes out a little hoarse. “I will be.”

I step closer and drape my jacket over her shoulders. She stiffens slightly, but she doesn’t push it off. She looks up at me.

“Did you say something to them?”

“Only the truth, love.”

She’s silent for a moment, and I wrap her into my arms, holding her tight, letting her think her thoughts until she’s ready to speak. When she does, her voice is small.

“You think they hate me?” And, even more softly, “I didn’t want to hurt them.”

“If there’s anyone they should hate, it’s me.” I tilt her face up to mine, holding her gaze. “I think theyloveyou, and even if your life doesn’t follow the path they expected, they’ll always love you.”

Tears glitter along her eyelashes. “You’re sure?”

I brush my thumbs delicately beneath her eyes, wiping away her tears. “Uh-huh. Trust me. I’m sure.”

Summer finally comes, andthere’s not really any time for worries. Sophie’s preparing for the bar, and we spend several weeks flat-hunting together.

We move in during the first week of summer: a sun-drenched, loft-style apartment in Tribeca, nestled on the top floor of a converted warehouse. The place fits Sophie like a glove: exposed brick walls, towering windows, dark wooden beams cutting through high ceilings. In the mornings, golden light pools across the dark wood floors. Below, a quiet street stretches towards a small dog park; Sophie keeps not-so-subtly hinting at it.

Inside, the apartment is a blend of modern and old-world elegance, sort of like me and Sophie. She fills it with antique Persian rugs, bookshelves crammed with law textbooks andfirst editions, vintage armchairs, and one enormous sofa so comfortable we both fall asleep on it the first night we stay in the flat.

I convert the spare room into an office for her. Inés and Mina help me find her a massive antique desk from a dusty shop in the West Village, which I polish and place in front of the window so she can see the city stretch below. I get her filing cabinets and fit one wall with an old blackboard for her to scribble ideas on.

Sophie loves it, just like I knew she would, but when I fuck her right on top of her shiny new desk, she accuses me of having ulterior motives.

I only have one, though: making her happy every day of her life.

The week after we move in, we throw our first party together. We call it a housewarming party, and it is, but it’s also a celebration—of me staying at Inkspill, of Sophie securing a job doing what she loves, of us. Sophie and me, together. No more hiding, no more fear, no more almosts.

The apartment fills quickly, a mix of old and new faces. The golden glow of the pendant lights reflects off half-empty champagne flutes, laughter spilling from the balcony, carried on the warm summer air.

Zachary is deep in conversation with Theo and a few of Sophie’s Harvard classmates. Near the kitchen, Elle balances a precariously full plate of hors d’oeuvres while gesturing animatedly with a cocktail in hand, entirely unaware that half the contents of her glass are threatening to slosh over the rim.

I didn’t expect everyone to show up, but they have. Sev and Anaïs flew in from Japan, Zachary and Theodora from Oxford. I was almost tempted to invite Luca, just to rub it in his face that I ended up with the girl he tried to keep from me for years, butsomething tells me he already knows. He only ever likes my photos when they feature Sophie.

Asshole.

Still, it’s hard to be in a bad mood when I see how happy Sophie looks surrounded by people she likes.

Her other flatmate, Solana, is also here with her boyfriend, and Elle brought a couple of people from their internship at KMG. Alice Liu and a few other of Sophie’s classmates from the DART programme are also there—even Dahlia Lindenfeld.

I overhear them both berating Sophie’s choice to give up KMG and Big Law to join Sardowski & Hurst, the litigation firm in the East Side of Manhattan run by the two powerhouse female attorneys, Renata Sardowski and Vivian Hurst. The firm is up-and-coming and highly selective, building its reputation representing women in high-stakes legal battles—exactly the kind of work Sophie’s always been meant for.

“You could’ve had KMG on your résumé for life,” Alice says, shaking her head. “Instead, you’re joining the firm that literally just went viral for taking down that hedge fund CEO?”

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