Perfect Enough

Chapter Two – Sophia

Chapter Two

SOPHIA

“Hi, Soph!”

Glancing up to see my best friend, Chloe Anderson, standing in my office doorway, I leaned back in my chair.

“Nothing good ever comes after the words ‘Hi, Soph.’”

She rolled her eyes. “Nonsense. How is your day starting?”

I lifted a brow. “If you want something, Chloe, just ask so we don’t have to do this dance.”

Plopping down into the chair in my office, she batted her lashes. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Let’s just save each other both some grief and wasted time. Out with it.”

She sighed. “ Fine . Your mother called me.”

“Oh no,” I said, my shoulders deflating as I dropped my head to the desk. I thought about lifting it to hit the desk a few more times but didn’t have the energy.

“It’s not that bad. Well…it’s not as bad as the last time she called me.”

I lifted my head. “The time she tried to talk you into telling me we were going to a new restaurant, only to have her ambush me with a guy she knew from work?”

Chloe shrank back in her chair. “Yeah, that wasn’t fun telling her no to that game plan.”

My head fell back to the desk. “What is it this time?”

“She…well…she sort of, in a roundabout way…”

When her voice trailed off, I saw her reading a piece of paper.

“What? She what , Chloe?” I demanded.

“She called to tell me she signed you up on a dating app and needed me to answer your questions,” she said really fast.

My mouth fell open. “She did what?!”

“I know! I told her no way was I doing it, especially since you were still so freshly wounded from Drake.”

Dropping back into my chair, I stared at my best friend of nearly twenty-one years. “Freshly wounded?”

Chloe nodded. “I mean…look at you,” she said, as she swept her hand around in a circle in my general direction. “You look like something the cat fought with and won before he dragged it in.”

I wasn’t sure how much more my bruised ego could take, so I held up my hand and said, “Stop.”

Her mouth quickly pressed into a tight line, and she raised her hands in defense.

“First of all, thank you for that glowing compliment.”

She leaned forward. “I still have that day at the spa in Hamilton. We could go today, or any day you want.”

I cleared my throat. “I’m fine. I don’t need a spa appointment.”

Her eyes went to my hands. “Have you seen your nails lately?”

With a quick look at them, I saw the chipped paint and a couple broken nails and shoved my hands under my legs as I stared at my best friend. “Did you come here to warn me or to make me feel like utter shit?”

Frowning, she said, “I’m sorry, Soph. I just hate seeing you like this. Depressed and letting yourself go.”

It was my turn to frown. I glanced down at my white shirt, long brown sweater, jeans, and brown ankle boots. If I was being honest with myself, I thought I looked cute this morning.

Chloe was one of those friends who was your complete opposite, but also your perfect other half. Your ride or die. The one friend you knew would be there for you no matter what. She was as rich as Croesus and never stepped out of the house without her hair and makeup on point, her body outfitted in expensive designer everything. On the flip side, I would live in sweats and an oversized T-shirt if I thought I could get away with it.

“What do you mean, letting myself go?” I asked.

She wrinkled her nose. “Your hair is in a ponytail, Soph.”

Lifting a hand to my hair, I narrowed my eyes to her. “I always wear it in a ponytail.”

“Exactly! That’s my point. You’re not even trying. You have beautiful long brown hair that you could do so much with besides a… ponytail .”

I rolled my eyes and dropped my head back as I stared at the ceiling. I counted down and then looked across the desk at my friend. “Chloe, what do you do for a living?”

She frowned and replied, “I work for my mother’s charity.”

“What do I do for a living?”

Glancing around my office, she said, “You run your mother’s dance studio.”

“And?” I urged her to keep going.

“Dance?”

Drawing in a small breath through my nose, I let it out. “I teach little ones to dance. Four, five, six…up to twelve. Tap, ballet, jazz, all that fun stuff.”

She grinned. “I know. It’s so cute to watch them.”

“It is cute to watch them. But try teaching them. I can train a dog easier than I can get these kids to do a first position for me. It’s exhausting. So forgive me if I can’t show up in a pencil skirt, silk blouse, and with my hair done up in some elaborate French twist.”

“Okay, point taken. But right now, you’re sitting in your office, not dancing. You could be a little more dazzled up.”

“How about we move on from my appearance and go back to my mother setting up a dating profile for me?”

“Right! I forgot that’s why I’m here.”

I fought to keep my hands from strangling my best friend. She lifted the paper again.

“She sent me the questions and I have no idea what to do. I’m not answering.”

“ Neither of us will answer them because I’m calling my mother and telling her to take down the profile.”

She chewed on her lip. “She’s going to know I told you.”

“You’re my best friend and she had no right asking you to help her with this!”

“That is true. But…do you think it’s a bad idea? I mean, maybe you might meet someone nice.”

“Do you have a dating app?”

She looked away and suddenly seemed interested in my office décor. “I never noticed you had the walls painted blue in here,” she said.

I gasped. “You have a dating profile?”

Chloe shrugged.

“Why?” I asked.

She sighed and looked back at me. “Because sometimes a girl just likes to hook up for some meaningless sex.”

My mouth dropped open. “ What ?”

Looking at her nails, she quirked a brow. “I said what I said.”

“Chloe, how many guys have you hooked up with?”

Her eyes met mine. “In the last week?”

I choked. “I was thinking more like the last year.”

Sitting up straighter, she replied, “I’ve had one hookup this week. Before that, I was in a bit of a dry spell. I dated that one guy who was in the rock band. The sex was out of this world, and Lord, could he give great oral.”

I snarled my lip at her. “I don’t need to hear this.”

“You,” she said, pointing to me, “could use a guy’s mouth on that vajayjay of yours. It would loosen you up a bit.”

My cheeks instantly heated. Chloe noticed—and she leaned in closer.

“Soph? You have had oral sex, right?”

When I didn’t answer, she shook her head and pulled out her phone.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“I’m looking up Nick’s number.”

“Nick?”

She looked at me. “The golfer I dated about a year or so ago.”

I knew with every part of my soul that I shouldn’t open my mouth and ask my next question, but I did anyway. “Why are you looking him up?”

“To set you up on a date, of course.”

“Chloe, if you push anything on your phone, I swear I won’t speak to you ever again.”

Her eyes lifted. “But don’t you want to move on? You’ve had such a hard year, Sophia.”

Letting out a long breath, I closed my eyes to keep my tears at bay. When I opened them, Chloe had put her phone away.

“What I want right now, Chloe, is peace. I want to be alone , and there is nothing wrong with that. My father left us, and Drake…well, he was just another typical man who couldn’t seem to keep his dick in his pants.”

“Chloe, not all guys are like that.”

“Says my best friend, who has random hookups.”

With a soft expression, she lowered her voice and said, “I don’t know what you’re going through, Soph, so I won’t pretend I do. But I’m here for you if you need me.”

I nodded. “I know, and thank you.”

Raising a single eyebrow, she asked, “Are you sure you want to ditch the dating website?”

“I’m positive.”

When I stepped into my two-bedroom apartment after work and shut the door, I dropped back against it and cried.

Sliding down to the floor, I put my forehead on my knees. I was tired of holding back my tears, and for once, I just wanted to let it all go. So that’s what I did.

I wasn’t sure how long I sat there, but when I had no more tears to cry, I lifted my head to see my cat staring at me on the sofa. He was an orange and white tabby, and I was pretty sure he was the reincarnation of a grumpy old man. He just had that sort of attitude.

“Hey, Spice. How was your day?”

He let out a long meow that I interpreted as, “It was a lot better than yours.”

I got up and picked up my purse and bag, tossing them onto the sofa, not anywhere near Spice. He still let out a protesting meow.

“Fine, fine, fine. Let me get you your food.”

Spice followed me into the kitchen, where he somewhat patiently waited for his food.

“Here you go, lovebug, eat your yummies.”

Spice tore into his food like I hadn’t fed him in a month. I rinsed out the can, put it in my recycling bin, and then opened the refrigerator to see what I could make myself for dinner. Seeing the leftover chicken salad from yesterday, I quickly made a sandwich. Added some fruit and a few pretzels.

I sat down at the kitchen counter and took a bite. The apartment was so quiet, and I couldn’t help but shake my head as I thought about how I’d told Chloe this was what I wanted. Now, it just made me feel too alone.

Glancing at my phone, I pulled up my father’s name.

It had been over four months since he’d committed suicide. He hadn’t left a note or anything to tell my mother or me why he did it. He’d simply left us…alone.

In my sessions with my therapist, I kept asking her why my mother was handling it so well. She kept pointing out to me that no one knew what happened when my mother was behind closed doors, and tonight, with my little crying episode, I suddenly knew in my heart that my mother did the same thing sometimes. Unless it was a good day, which…there were some .

I read the texts I’d sent him over the last few months, starting with the one I’d sent last night.

Me: Why do men keep breaking my heart, Daddy? Why? It is so bad that I want to find the kind of love I’ve always dreamed of—the kind I thought you and Momma had? Maybe it doesn’t exist.

For a moment, I wondered if my mother was reading the texts. She most likely wasn’t since I’d seen her turn off his phone and put it in the drawer next to his side of the bed.

I typed another text. My finger paused before I hit send.

Me: I cried for the first time today since Drake left. I’m so angry at myself for crying. He isn’t worth the tears or the time I wasted on the floor while Spice stared at me as if I’d lost my mind. I don’t know what makes me sadder. The fact that he cheated on me, or that he did it when he knew I was at my lowest, right after you died. Who does that? What kind of a man picks up a woman at his girlfriend’s father’s funeral and then proceeds to sleep with her? I’m sorry, Daddy, but men are nothing but assholes. And you’re included in that group, for leaving me and Mom.

Setting my phone face down, I started to eat my sandwich again. Spice was now on the counter, sitting in front of me, staring at my blueberries.

“No, you only want to play with it, and we don’t play with our food.”

As I took another bite, my phone dinged with a message.

I turned it over to see I had a text from…

My father .

Nearly falling off the stool, I stumbled a few steps away and stared at the phone. I stood there long enough for my phone to give me the second notification. Finally, Spice approached my plate, and I had to shoo him away.

With shaking hands, I picked up my cell, swiped it, and read the message from my father. My dead father.

Daddy: First, I’d like to say that not all men are assholes. No. First, I’d like to say I’m sorry for your loss. THEN I’d like to say not all men are assholes. Second, or is it third? This Drake guy does, indeed, sound like a total asshole.

A small laugh slipped free, and I slowly shook my head to clear my fogged brain. My mother must have canceled my father’s phone and someone got the new number. The sadness at that thought caused me to rub my chest, as if it physically hurt to lose yet another part of my father.

Me: Who is this?

I saw the dots moving as the person on the other end of the line started to reply to my question.

Daddy: My name is Josh Shaw. I got this phone with a new number because, according to my captain, I’m a dumbass who can’t seem to keep track of anything unless it’s attached to me.

Biting my lower lip, I stared at the name. Josh Shaw. Then my eyes moved to the word “Captain.” Was he in the military?

Before I could ask, he replied again.

Daddy: I’m sorry I didn’t say anything when you texted previously, thinking you were texting your father’s number. I feel like I invaded your privacy. I told myself if you texted again, I’d respond. Then you went off and said all men are assholes, and being a man myself, I felt compelled to defend our few good ones.

I laughed.

Me: Does that include you? Are you one of the good ones, Josh Shaw?

The dots started, and I found myself anxious to see what he’d reply with.

Daddy: I’d like to think I am. My parents raised me right, and if my mother ever caught me disrespecting a woman, I’m pretty sure she’d try to break an arm…or two.

For the first time in nearly five months, I felt myself smiling so wide, my cheeks ached.

Me: My name is Sophia Montgomery. It’s nice to meet you, Josh. I’m glad you said something and didn’t let me keep texting a ghost. I’m sorry for that, but it feels good to smile, and even laugh a bit.

Daddy: You know, Sophia Montgomery, you can text anytime to talk to your dad.

Tears pooled in my eyes at his kind words, and I forced myself not to start crying again. As much as it hurt to do so, I changed the contact name from my father to Josh’s name.

Me: You seem like a nice guy, Josh. But nice guys have fooled me before, soooo…

Josh Shaw: Then it looks like I’ll have to prove it. Let’s start now. How was your day today, Sophia? Well, besides the crying part and what caused that.

Me: It was okay. My mother tried to set me up on a dating website, then tried to get my best friend, Chloe, to answer the questions for her.

The bubbles started, and I found myself holding my breath. I wasn’t sure why. I had sworn off all men for the foreseeable future, but there was something… safe …about this one. This guy couldn’t hurt me through my phone.

Josh Shaw: Wow. I’ve got to be honest, I don’t have any response to that. I’m not sure what I would do if my mother did that.

I smiled. Then my curiosity got the best of me. How could I go about asking him if he had a girlfriend and not seem like I was interested?

Me: My mother is desperate to see me with someone. What about you? Single? Dating? Married?

Josh Shaw: No girlfriend. My job tends to scare them away.

I raised my brows, curious. How much personal information was he willing to share? For that matter, how much was I?

Me: Josh, we need some ground rules for this new friendship.

Josh Shaw: Give them to me, Soph.

My heart tripped over itself. The only people who called me that were Chloe and my father. Shaking off the weird feeling, I typed out my rules.

Me: We can only give each other one personal detail each day. We both met that rule already with our names.

Josh Shaw: I can get down with that rule. Next?

Me: The second you ask me for phone sex or a nude pic, we’re done.

Josh Shaw: LMAO. As long as you don’t ask for dick pics, I’m good with that rule as well.

I grinned .

Me: No pictures of each other.

Josh Shaw: Okay. Honestly, though, I already have you pictured in my mind.

There went that weird feeling in my chest again. I took a deep breath and debated what I wanted to text next. I waited so long, he texted first.

Josh Shaw: You there?

Me: Yes. Sorry. Tell me how you describe me?

Josh Shaw: Not tonight, Sophia Montgomery.

I giggled like a schoolgirl, then rolled my eyes. “Get it together, Sophia.”

Josh Shaw: Wait. You got two personal things from me, so it’s only fair I get one more.

Me: You’re right. That’s fair.

Josh Shaw: What color are your eyes, Sophia?

I drew in a deep breath and chewed on my thumbnail.

Me: Brown.

The dots started. Stopped. Then started again.

Josh Shaw: Thank you. My vision of you is growing more detailed. Good night, Sophia. Sleep well.

My eyes darted over to the time. It was only eight. I wanted to ask him if he was going to bed or trying to end the conversation. I started to type good night when another text came in.

Josh Shaw: I should explain why I’m going to bed so early. I’ve got to be up at 5 AM…work on a cattle ranch.

I smiled. He had given me yet another personal detail. We were clearly going to be shit at this.

Me: You didn’t need to explain, but thank you. Good night, Josh. I hope you have a peaceful sleep.

Setting my phone down, I frowned as I tried to figure out where I’d heard the name Shaw before.