Wildflowers and Wide Receivers

35. Sophie

Chapter 35

Sophie

S ometime in the early hours of the morning, I wake and find Jonah’s side of the bed empty. I stretch my hand across the sheets, and they are not warm. They’re cold. He’s been gone for a while, and the nerves in my stomach instantly awaken.

Slipping out of bed, I find his T-shirt on the floor and pull it over my head. The fabric is soft, and it smells just like him. I feel like I’m being hugged by him, even though he isn’t here, and I really need that right now.

Looking around his room, I soak in the details that are his, as it’s quite possible this might be the last time I see them. From the bookshelf that holds travel books, sports books, a few classics and photo albums to the Tom Brady autographed football and a picture of him and his family at a Patriots game from when he was a boy to another draft photo of him and his brother both wearing Carolina gear. There are mementos of his life, athletic shoes scattered on the floor near the chair in the corner, and a sand dollar on the far nightstand that I know if I flip it over, it’ll have the date from when we were at the beach. He is a good man, but I don’t know if he’s meant to be mine. I want him to be. I’m just not sure yet how to make this work.

Quietly, I tiptoe down the stairs not to wake Molly or Vivi, and I find Jonah sitting on the couch in the dark with his elbows on his knees and his head bent forward, resting in his hands. He’s only wearing a pair of shorts. A half glass of water is sitting in front of him and the room is dead silent.

Not to scare him, I breathe a little louder and drag my hand across the couch so he hears me. He doesn’t lift his head. He doesn’t even acknowledge me.

Tucking one leg underneath me, I gently sit next to him and wait.

I know seeing that folder and the offer letter hurt him. It was never my intention to hurt him, and I was careless about not making sure it was put away. I was also reckless in not figuring out how to discuss this with him before we got to this point.

Time passes, and he sniffs a few times. Eventually, he leans back on the couch and drops his head to rest it behind him. He’s not staring at the ceiling; his eyes are closed, but the stress on his face is so evident, my heart aches more than it did upstairs.

“I don’t know how to do this,” he whispers.

“Do what?”

“Any of it,” he lets out, and then he swallows, the lines of his throat moving.

The large windows in this room let in enough moonlight for me to see him through all of the shadows. His chin trembles, and his nostrils flare just a bit as he inhales air.

Oh God.

He curls his hands into themselves as they rest on his lap and pulls his arms closer.

“All night, I’ve asked myself, if I had known from the beginning that you were not planning on staying, would I have done things differently? And I don’t think I would have. In fact, I’m pretty sure I would have put together some type of ‘Win Sophie Over’ campaign, just to try to convince you to stay. Although, I’m not sure if that is what you would have wanted or if it would have mattered. I’m thinking it’s the latter as we never once talked about this.”

Of course he doesn’t know. I didn’t really want to talk about it with him. We skimmed the surface one night over dinner, but I never led him to believe that there was a possibility that I might not be staying. I can see how from his vantage point that might look different, but we haven’t been together that long. Who’s to say we would have even gotten along? I didn’t know, and neither did he.

Was it wrong of me? Seeing his reaction right this moment, most definitely. But up until this point, he might not have wanted me for anything more than what we are. Fun during the day, and sneaking around at night. Any sane person wouldn’t make life decisions based on that, but I kept this from him. I can try to justify this any way I want, but it doesn’t matter. I hurt him.

“I didn’t mean for you to find out like you did. They told me they were interviewing several people, so I wasn’t even aware of the timeline. I’d somehow convinced myself that I wasn’t going to get it. After all, I’d been inquiring off and on for over a year now, but I had to see it through. I got the call from them earlier today, and then the FedEx package was on my doorstep when I got home. I was going to tell you.”

“I’m sure you were,” he grumbles, but not in a sarcastic way, just resigned.

“Jonah . . .” I say quietly, but he just shakes his head, keeping his eyes shut.

I scoot a little closer and place my hand over his on his thigh and watch his chest rise and fall in the darkness. He doesn’t try to lace our fingers together, something he’s always done since we started spending time together. In fact, he pulls them in tighter, and a stab of pain pierces through me.

“I’m so overwhelmed, I don’t even know where to begin,” he says as a single tear leaks out of the corner of his eye and runs down his face.

Oh no.

Instantly, mine swell as well.

“Talk it out with me, please,” I beg him softly. I’m sure that Vivi’s meltdown is a lot of what has him twisted up inside, but I’m certain that I am part of the reason he’s feeling like this, too. And I hate it. I never want to hurt him.

“I just didn’t see it coming,” he says.

“See what coming?”

“This. You. Vivi. Us. All these weeks. I’ve been so blinded by the opportunity to finally get to know you and actually spend time with you, that it never occurred to me that this wasn’t going to become something more. You live here. It’s been over two years. Why would I ever think you were trying to live somewhere else? I had convinced myself that fate had brought us back together, but how fucking foolish is that?”

This time, he does turn to look at me. There’s devastation and heartbreak etched into the muscles on his face.

“I don’t think it’s foolish. I had those thoughts, too,” I tell him. I have so much to say, so much I want to express to him. “Jonah,” I start, but he cuts me off.

“No. Don’t. I’m not mad. I understand, I do. You have goals and dreams, just like I do. You’re so smart, and I’m so proud of you, but Vivi,” he chokes out while more tears start to leak from his eyes. “She’s already suffered enough loss in her lifetime, and now I’ve let her get close to you, and you’re going to be someone else who leaves her.”

When it comes to children, men are just a different breed. Would Jonah have ever cried in front of me before? I don’t know. But most guys that I’ve met over the years would not. Add in their love of a child and every wall comes down. It’s sexy, it’s pheromone overload, but when they’re worried or hurt, it’s devastating.

“No matter what happens between us, I will never leave her,” I state firmly, my own tears falling.

He lays his head back against the couch and closes his eyes again. He doesn’t want me to see him, and that’s when it hits me. He’s hurting because it’s not just about me leaving Vivi; he thinks I’m leaving him, too. He opened himself up to me, allowed me into a place I’m not sure anyone else has been, and now this. His father left, his mother died, his brother died, and now me.

How did I not see this sooner?

This makes my process for how I’ve handled this and how I’ve tried to sort through it even worse.

I feel so atrocious to have made him feel this way, it hurts to breathe.

More tears fall from both of us as I watch this beautiful man and sit with him while he tries to shut out the world. A world that I made more damaging, even after all the disappointment and loss he’s already experienced.

“I try so hard to be what she needs, and I selfishly and quickly allowed you to fill a role in her life that isn’t yours to fill. I should have kept our relationship separate, at least until we had some kind of discussion about where we were headed.”

My heart plummets because we did have a little bit of this discussion that night, and I take full responsibility because I kind of led him on. He was very upfront when he said, “This is our life, and I need you to decide sooner rather than later if you want to be a part of it.” For weeks, I’ve let him believe I did, and the worst feeling slithers into my chest.

Guilt.

Shame.

And suddenly unworthy.

“She was never meant to be mine.” He looks back at me, his eyes watery. “But now she is, and although I will mess things up as we go, she’s my number one responsibility, I hope you understand that.”

“I do,” I say, hoping to convince him that I really do.

He frowns as he looks at me. His expression is so sad and so resigned, I can’t help but continue to cry as I stare at him.

He sniffs and blinks once. The pain in his eyes moves behind a wall as he layers the bricks to block me out, and very calmly but firmly, he says, “I need you not to be here when she wakes up.”

And the hammer falls, smashing my heart to pieces.

I’ve never been here when she wakes in the morning. We’ve always kept our romantic life separate, but right now, at this moment, he’s politely asking me to leave.

I suddenly feel awkward, like I’m imposing, and it feels terrible.

“Of course. Let me just run upstairs and get dressed.” I scramble off the couch and make my way toward the stairs as my heartbeat pounds against my chest wall.

Why did I let this happen?

Why did I allow us all to get so close?

From the moment I accepted the interview, I should have told him, so he could make up his own mind or let them go.

Tears keep falling as I pull off his shirt and slip on my clothes. It takes me no time at all, and I’m back down the stairs, my shoes are on, and I’m headed for the door. He follows, but as I go to pull it open, he places his hand on the top, keeping it shut. I glance over my shoulder at him and find him a little bit open, which has me turning to face him.

His free hand reaches up and tucks a few strands of hair behind my ear before he sweeps his thumb over my cheekbone to wipe away my tears and cradles the back of my head.

“I’m sorry,” he says.

“For what?”

“I don’t even know anymore. I just feel bad. I don’t like seeing you cry.”

“You have nothing to feel bad about,” I tell him, taking a step closer, tilting my head to see him. Without asking and without a warning, I rise on my toes and brush my lips over his. He holds us together with my lips pressed to his until he tips his face so his forehead can rest against mine. His hand drops to my waist, and he pulls me closer.

And then even closer as he wraps both arms around me and hugs me.

No one ever talks about hugs. It’s always kisses or unexpected touches, but hugs, they’re probably more important than both of those two combined. It’s a moment between two people when the need to be as close as possible to that person takes over, and two hearts are pressed together to become one. A hug is an exchange of affection meant to show support, whether it’s due to a celebration or through grief, and a hug is the thing that everyone needs when most of the time they don’t realize it. A hug is small, simple, yet it can be everything.

And this is.

“Will you come over for dinner on Friday?” I ask him. We still need to talk.

He pulls back and looks at me.

“You’re going to cook for me?” he asks, raising his brows, the mood lifting just a bit.

“Yes.” I give him a small smile even though he knows I’m not the best. Can I cook? A little, but for him, I would try anything.

Jonah gives himself to everyone and everything he cares about. Whether it’s football, his friends, Vivi, even me. I haven’t left yet, and I definitely want to do something just for him.

“Okay,” he agrees. “Text me what time.”