Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 92168 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92168 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
I’d spent the last eight or nine hours going over what I was going to say to Sophia. If I told her the truth, she wasn’t going to like a lot of it. But lying and keeping things from her was what had gotten me into this mess, and if I was ever going to regain her trust, I had to start coming clean right now. Even if the truth hurt.
Downstairs in the lobby, I bought two large coffees and went directly to Sophia’s office. Her door was shut, so I headed to her team’s conference room.
I knocked and pulled open the door. “Is Sophia here?”
Charles shook his head. “Rough night?”
“Huh?”
He pointed at the Band-Aid on my forehead.
“Oh,” I said. “Something like that. Is she here?”
“Nope. Try her cell. Though she should be boarding right now. So you might not catch her for a few hours.”
“Boarding? Where’s she going?”
“To West Palm. To see her grandfather.”
Fuck.
She’d had a trip planned for later this week, the day before the bids were due, but not today. “Do you know why she went?”
Charles pursed his lips. “I’m assuming to discuss business. And I’m sure I’ve already given you more information than the Sterlings would want me to. So if you have any other questions, you should direct them to Sophia.”
Deflated, I walked to my office. I needed to get in touch with her, though I’d have to get her number from someone since I didn’t have it committed to memory, and I still didn’t have my cell. Opening my office door, I found a pile of stuff on my desk. At the top of the stack of folded clothes I’d left in her suite last night was my cracked cell phone.
My shoulders slumped. Sophia’s message was loud and clear. She’s done with me.
The rest of the day, I went through the motions. I dealt with the fallout from the flooding in the ballroom construction, reviewed a few last-minute appraisal reports that had come in, met with my legal team, and stopped by the cell phone store to get my screen repaired. Luckily that seemed to be the only damage, which was surprising, considering it had hit my skull hard enough to crack. I’d called Sophia four times, but each time I was sent to voice mail. The things I needed to say to her weren’t things that could be said over the phone, much less in messages. So each time I hung up.
By six in the evening, I was starting to go stir crazy, so I decided to take a walk outside. The first bar I passed caught my attention, but I kept going, not slowing down. The second one was on the same block. I hesitated slightly, but nevertheless walked on by. By the third bar in as many blocks, I started to feel the damn things calling my name. So when I slowed to a crawl, I forced myself to call an Uber rather than even attempt to walk the couple of blocks back to The Countess.
Lucky for me, New York was flooded with as many Ubers as it had cabs these days, so my car pulled up within two minutes.
“The Countess hotel?” the driver said, looking in the rearview mirror. He was probably thinking what a lazy fuck since it was so close.
“Yeah…actually, no—scratch that. Can you take me to 409 Bowery, instead?”
The guy made a face. “You’ll have to do that in the app.”
I grumbled and dug into my pocket. Peeling a hundred from my billfold, I tossed it over the front seat. “Just drive. We good?”
The guy scooped up the hundred and stuffed it in his pocket. “You got it.”
***
“Well, well, look what the cat dragged in. It’s almost time for Jeopardy!. Did you at least bring me scratch-offs if you’re going to interrupt my show?”
It was the first time I could remember showing up empty-handed. And it wasn’t that I hadn’t remembered.
“Sorry,” I told him. “I didn’t want to stop. The deli I usually go to down the block sells beer.”
Mr. Thorne picked up the remote and flicked off the TV. “Take a seat, son.”
He said nothing more, instead waiting for me to tell him what was going on. I knew he’d sit patiently until I sorted out my head, so I blew out a deep breath and raked a hand through my hair. “I don’t know where to start.”
“Then start at the beginning.”
I dropped my head into my hands. “I fucked up.”
“That’s okay. We all make mistakes. Every day is an opportunity for a new chance at sobriety.”
I shook my head. “No, it’s not that. I didn’t drink anything. When I realized I was heading in that direction, I grabbed a ride and came straight here.”
“Well, that’s good. That’s what a sponsor is for. I’m glad you felt like you could come to me. So tell me what’s going on, then.”