“Considering it’s not 1953 anymore, no, we’re not going steady.”
“You just hooking up then?”
His use of the term made me chuckle. But most of his vocabulary came from Jerry Springer, so I wasn’t surprised he knew what it meant. “Yeah, I guess that’s what we’re doing.”
“Don’t you ever want to settle down? Meet a nice woman? Come home to her after a long day of work and share a nice meal she cooked for you? Maybe pop out a couple of rugrats?”
I could not picture Sophia wearing an apron and making me dinner, but I got what he was trying to say. I’d never given much thought to coming home to a woman or starting a family. But the truth was, I could envision that with Sophia. Albeit, my version of things wasn’t exactly Mr. Thorne’s. Instead of her cooking me a nice dinner, we’d have reservations for seven o’clock since we both worked a lot. I’d lose track of time and show up at the restaurant a half hour late, and she’d be pissed. I’d slide into the booth next to her, instead of across from her, and apologize. She’d tell me to stick my apology up my ass. We’d argue, and I’d notice how sexy she looked with fire in her eyes and slip my hand under the table. When the waiter came to take our order, I’d be knuckles deep inside her beautiful pussy, and she’d be angry when he walked away that I hadn’t withdrawn. But then she’d come so hard she’d lose some of her fight. I’d whisper another apology when she softened, and she’d tell me not to let it happen again.
Though, that fantasy would never become a reality. Because sooner or later, Sophia was going to hate me.
I shrugged. “We don’t really stand a chance.”
Mr. Thorne’s brows pulled together. “Why not?”
“It’s complicated. Let’s just say there are a lot of obstacles in our way.”
Mr. Thorne steepled his fingers. “You know what obstacles are?”
“What?”
“They’re tests to see if you deserve to win. How do you show someone they’re worth fighting for unless you’ve knocked down whatever’s in your way? If you’re just gonna sit on your ass and not even try…” He shook his head. “Well, I guess you don’t deserve the prize anyway. I thought you had more balls than that, kid.”
I gritted my teeth and bit my tongue. “You want me to take you for a walk or what?”
“How about you take me over to that new fancy hotel of yours? I’d like to see it. You know, that’s where I proposed to my Eliza.”
“I didn’t know that.”
“They do that place up nice for the holidays. I took her over and proposed in front of the big tree on Christmas Eve.”
“I guess you got engaged before 1962?”
Mr. Thorne’s forehead wrinkled. “It was 1961. How’d you know that?”
“Because they stopped putting up a Christmas tree in 1962.”
“No shit?”
I nodded. “Apparently, the tree was another victim of the Sterling-Lockwood feud. Grace Copeland, the woman who kept the hotel and died recently, leaving it to my and Sophia’s grandfathers, never put up a tree after her split with them—for sentimental reasons.”
“I guess that makes my proposal in front of the tree even more special then. That place was magical at the holidays.”
I had never stepped foot into The Countess until my family had become part owner. But I could imagine the lobby looked pretty nice all lit up with a big tree. The weather was pleasant outside today. I could probably wheel Mr. Thorne there in a half hour or so—get him some air and let him reminisce a little. So I grabbed his wheelchair, locked the wheels in place, and got ready to lift him out of bed.
“Alright, old man. I’ll bring you to see the hotel. But no telling dirty jokes to the staff, like you did when I took you to the live taping of that dumb talk show last month. You’ll get my ass sued.”
***
After I walked Mr. Thorne over to The Countess, I spent an hour showing him the hotel. I was glad we hadn’t run into Sophia. My ass was dragging, so I took him to get some caffeine at the lobby coffee shop, and we sat in the same corner I often sat in early in the morning while I waited for Sophia to come down and get her coffee.
Mr. Thorne sipped an iced tea while looking around the grand lobby with a smile on his face. “This place is something special.”
I nodded. “Yeah, it’s nice.”
He shook his head. “It’s more than just nice, kid. It’s magical. Can’t you feel it?” He pointed to the two grand staircases that led up to the second floor from different directions. “That’s where the tree goes. I got down on one knee right over there. Happiest day of my life.”
I knew the last few years hadn’t been easy for him. But it was pretty crazy that he could say proposing to a woman who was now his ex-wife was the happiest day of his life. “I don’t get it. You’re divorced. You’ve said yourself that things didn’t end well. How could the start of something that ended badly be the happiest day of your life?”
“One good day with my Eliza was worth a hundred bad ones on my own. We only get one life, son. Chances are, I’m going to die alone sitting in this chair one day. But you know what? When I sit here, I do a lot of thinking back to the good times. So while I might be alone now, I still have memories to keep me company. Bittersweet memories are better than regrets.”
Just then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw Sophia walk through the revolving lobby door with Scarlett. She had a shopping bag in her hand, but her friend had at least half a dozen. They were laughing, and it made me smile that she’d enjoyed her day.
The ladies were almost halfway across the lobby when Sophia looked around. It seemed like she sensed someone watching. Her eyes glided over to where I was sitting with Mr. Thorne, then flashed back in a doubletake. She leaned over to Scarlett to say something, and then they headed in our direction.
Clueless, Mr. Thorne elbowed me. “Don’t look now, but two beautiful birds are coming our way. I call dibs on the one on the left.”
I shook my head. “Don’t think so, old man. That one’s taken.”
Sophia’s smile was a mix of curious and amused as she approached.
“Hi.”
I lifted my chin to Scarlett’s bags. “Looks like you might need another suitcase for your trip home.”
“The store is delivering the rest. I couldn’t carry it all.”
I smiled and shook my head.
“She’s totally not kidding,” Sophia said. “They really are delivering. I didn’t even know they would do that type of thing.”
Mr. Thorne cleared his throat next to me.
“Sorry. Sophia, Scarlett, this is Walter Thorne.”
The women took turns extending their hands. “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Thorne,” Scarlett said.
“Please, call me Walter,” he replied.
“What the hell?” I said. “I have to call you Mr. Thorne and these two you just met can call you Walter?”
“If you were as pretty as they are, I’d let you call me whatever you wanted.”
I rolled my eyes. “You’re unbelievable. Maybe they should pick up your scratch-offs from now on, then.”