Page 86 of Tinder Embrace
"She does," I agreed easily.
"Don't let her go, Davis. Buy me out."
I sensed Sophie's presence in the doorway but kept my gaze on Jo. "I don't plan to."
It was a promise or a threat, depending on context. Catching Sophie's broad smile, I relaxed against the counter, more than a little relieved that she'd clearly chosen to see my pledge in a positive light.
“Let’s talk a fair number,” I added.
"Morning, Jo," Sophie said cheerfully, running one reassuring hand along my shoulder, using it as leverage to kiss my chin.
"Morning, Soph."
It was all quite civilized and more than a bit surreal. Being with her was natural, in a way I'd never imagined. Our old house held the memories of decades, some good, some not so good, but it was so steeped in our family, and I hadn't believed someone else could fit seamlessly into our lives at the farm.
Melody had always seemed uncomfortable, and maybe that was my fault, for not doing enough to welcome her, make space for it to be her home too. With that in mind, I examined Sophie. She seemed perfectly at ease, kicked back at the kitchen table, chatting quietly with Jo while I manned the stove.
Had I changed, or was she different? Probably both. Melody and I hadn't been right for each other. We'd been too young, too stubborn, and too fixed in our views of what marriage should look like. I was still a stubborn son of a bitch, and Sophie wasn’t exactly shy about expressing her desires, but I liked to think I'd learned to bend. Learned to let her in.
She'd wrapped herself around my heart and wouldn't let go, the cutest little limpet, strong and sure. I couldn't keep her out if I tried, and I didn't want to try. Not when letting her in felt so good, so right. The power of presenting a united front far outweighed the satisfaction of going solo. Sophie and I fit, and I could only be grateful that Melody and I had learned enough from each other to go on to find our true partners.
That realization unlocked something in my chest, leaving me feeling free for the first time in years. Maybe we'd needed to fail before we could fly.
"Bee, Jo has offered to let me buy her out of her share of the house, and I'm seriously thinking about it," I said.
"Jo, are you sure you're okay with that? Would you stay here, or find someplace else? Is that what you really want?" Sophie's rapid-fire questions, her concern for her friend, only made me love her more.
Jo sipped her coffee, taking her time to consider Sophie's questions before answering, "Yes. Somewhere else. Yes."
Sophie leaned toward me. "And you, Davis? Is what you want? Having the farm to yourself? You've shared the house a long time."
"I'm hoping I won't live alone for long…"
Sophie's eyes rounded.
"Oh."
"Oh."
"Are those good 'ohs' or bad 'ohs'?" I asked, worried I'd moved too fast. Rushing Sophie wasn't my intention. I was just ready for a never-ending sleepover, if it meant having her with me.
"If you have to ask…" Jo murmured.
Sophie's eyes welled, and a cold shiver ran down my spine. Her tremulous smile reassured me, and I relaxed.
"You don't have to answer me now," I said cautiously. "We can take our time. After all, it may take Jo a while to find a place."
"Nope, got one," Jo said matter-of-factly.
I whipped my head toward her. "That was fast."
She shrugged. "Just because you're slow to pick up on things doesn't mean we all are." She touched her nose before pointing a finger at Sophie. "And don’t mind me, I know I’m butting in, but Davis is a pretty traditional guy. He's going to want you to put a ring on it soon."
She surprised a laugh out of Sophie, and I delighted in the light sound that spilled across the kitchen before fully registering what my sister had said. Sophie leaned back against my shoulder, snuggling in close.
Every muscle clenched. I’d come to terms with needing Sophie in my life, but I hadn’t let myself think about marriage. Failing with Sophie was unimaginable. Even thinking of losing her filled me with fear.
As if sensing my hesitation, she slid a hand down my side, entwining our fingers. That sign of solidarity, of reassurance was just what I needed.
