“I’m doing all the right things. I’ve been in therapy, and I do go out sometimes and have been getting braver. It’s just taking so damn long.”
“Don’t be too hard on yourself.”
She smiles and then bends to check on the corn bread. As she’s pulling it out of the oven, I decide to see exactly how brave she’s getting.
“So if I invited you to lunch, would you meet me there?”
She places the corn bread on the counter, takes off the oven mitts, and faces me with one eyebrow cocked. “How close by?”
“What’s the farthest you’ll usually travel away from your house?” I query.
“I go to Mount Lebanon to see my parents, but other than that, just a few miles.”
I think for a moment before saying, “Listen… I’m a traditionalist, and inviting you out to lunch means I would pick you up. But I think you need some pushing of boundaries, so how about you meet me for lunch at the Fairview, and we can eat there?”
“Is that where you’re staying?”
“Until I can decide what to do for housing. I don’t know whether to rent or buy, or stay in the city or a little farther out. I figure I’ll look around this weekend.”
Sophie leans against the counter, crosses her arms, and studies me. “You’re going to push me, aren’t you?”
“Yup.”
“You know I don’t need saving,” she points out.
“Kind of used to it by now,” I retort with a grin.
Sophie busts out laughing, and fuck if it’s not beautiful. She shakes her head, not in denial, but amusement.
“We’re going to be good friends, Sophie,” I assure her. “I’ve come a long way from that awful night, and I’m not going to leave you behind.”
Her expression softens, the threat of tears again in her eyes. She blinks furiously and nods. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” I reply with a smile and then nod meaningfully at the chili. “Now, is the food ready because I’m starved.”
She laughs again. “It’s ready. Let me dish it up.”
CHAPTER 7
Sophie
My palms are damp as I pull onto Liberty Avenue and the Fairview Hotel comes into view. With no luck whatsoever, this morning I tried to back out of lunch with Baden. When I woke up with an acute case of nerves—the thought of driving and parking downtown made me want to vomit—I decided to chicken out and cancel.
It wasn’t so much the driving to the Fairview that bothered me but rather the parking and walking to the hotel. There’s a garage near the Wood Street subway station, only a block away from our meeting point, but the prospect of traversing the shadows and the multitude of hiding places between cars freaked me out.
It was more than I could bear, so I sent Baden a text that said, I’m not going to make lunch today. I’m sorry.
I expected him to text back with something like, No worries. We can reschedule.
But when Baden told me yesterday that we were going to be good friends and that he was not going to leave me behind, he meant it. His text held no subtlety whatsoever: Whatever it is that’s making you too afraid to come here, let’s figure out how to deal with it.
I stared at my phone in disbelief. He was actually going to push me to do this.
I started a reply to brush him off, but my phone rang, his name on the caller ID. Hesitant, I answered, “Hello?”
“This is too important to text back and forth,” Baden said crisply, then chuckled. “Oh, and good morning.”
“Good morning,” I replied automatically, my heart racing a tiny bit. Fear of him making me go, excitement in hearing his voice, awe he cared enough to call and not text.
“So, what’s your main fear?” he asked, no room within his determined tone to let me brush him off.
I decided to go with it. “I don’t want to have to park in the parking garage and walk over to the Fairview. The thought of it terrifies me.”
And then the man proved why we would indeed become good friends. He didn’t try to push me beyond barriers I knew I couldn’t make it past. He didn’t shame me. He showed no frustration.
Instead, he spoke my fears out loud. “I totally get it. Parking garages can be dark, and given you were attacked in a parking lot, that’s a lot to ask anyone to tackle. But I have a solution. Pull up to the front of the Fairview, and I’ll pay for the valet. I’ll wait outside for you. Easy as that.”
He obviously couldn’t see me, but his kindness brought tears to my eyes. I swallowed hard and replied, “Okay, then. I’ll see you at noon.”
As I approach the Fairview’s semicircular valet drive, a handful of people are standing outside. My eyes roam frantically for Baden. I know deep in my bones that if he’s not standing there, I’m most likely going to drive by and head home.
I spent months in therapy, my counselor reiterating that my fears were genuine and nothing to be ashamed of. They were a result of trauma. But at this moment, where I’m already planning my escape route, I know I’m being absolutely irrational.
Just as he promised, Baden is standing outside the lobby doors talking to one of the valets. He sees me pull up, recognizing me behind the wheel, and gives a brilliant smile.
Oddly, my pulse slows in relief he’s there, and I release a long exhale. But just as quickly, it picks back up again in recognition of what an extraordinarily handsome man he is. I’m not sure if it’s because he’s standing there waiting for me so I won’t be afraid, or the way he looks that’s pushing my buttons. He’s got on a pair of jeans, a dark-navy pea coat to ward off the cold, and black suede chukkas. Casual yet fashionable with his gentlemanly ways and dark hair perfectly swept back, I can’t help but think he’s the stuff white knights are made of.
As I swing into the circular drive, I berate myself for even thinking about Baden as a white knight.
Not that he isn’t. More like he was. As in the past. He saved me once, and I don’t need him to save me again.
Except for this one occasion where he’s waiting for me so I don’t have to park in a garage.
The valet opens my door, Baden standing at his side. He pushes money into the man’s hand as I step out.
Baden grins at me. “Hi.”
“Hi,” I reply, unable to contain my own smile.
Baden shivers and grimaces. “It’s going to take me a while to get used to cold weather again.”
“Again?” I ask as Baden takes my hand and tucks it into the crook of his arm. It’s such a charming move, but what I notice most is that I feel secure and safe.
“I’m from Montreal, so we’re no strangers to cold weather. And I played in Buffalo,” he explains as we walk toward the lobby door. “But I got spoiled in Arizona, I guess.”
We reach the revolving door, and I precede Baden inside. When he’s spit out behind me, I take a moment to appreciate the beautiful interior. I’ve never stayed at the Fairview, but I’ve been here one other time for dinner. The gleaming lobby is all marble, leather, and chrome, and a granite fireplace has been built into a wall beside the concierge desk.
But what I love best about this hotel is their mascot who freely roams—a pittie-boxer mix named Orbie who was rescued by the hotel’s general manager. He brings Orbie to work each day, and he’s become the official hotel ambassador.