Where Beauty Lies (Sophia and Ava London) (10 page)

“Where is your sister?” the Contessa asked. “We have many more people to delight and confuse.”

“I don’t know,” Ava snapped. “Where would you be if you were perfect?”

The Contessa tipped her head back and laughed. “Oh, you are going to be so
magnifico
with my nephew. I cannot wait for him to lay eyes on you.”

Eye,
Ava thought miserably.
Just the one.

LonDOs

The Contessa delighting and confusing

Mini chocolate ice-cream cones

Turning a messy ponytail into a sexy loose up-do

24-hour shimmer eye shadow

Under-eye concealer

Lily staying home to work on finding a venue

LonDON’Ts

The Contessa threatening and terrifying

Boys with sleepy eyes who jump to conclusions

Boys with sleepy eyes who are smug

Boys with sleepy eyes who apparently did not notice you at Starbucks

Being told to be a serious girl

Not having time to shower before going out

Having four more parties to attend

Lily missing a chance to study the plastic surgery of NYC up close

8

fire and nice

Sophia didn’t know why all the reporters had suddenly lost interest in her, and she hadn’t bothered to ask. Instead, she’d stolen away from the main party and ducked around the side of a trellis covered in vines and twinkling tea-light candles, where it was quieter. The trellis was about three feet from the outer wall of the terrace, making a sort of corridor to a doorway that, judging by the trays filled with glasses lining it, must have been a back way to the kitchen. But there was no one going back and forth now, no distractions or other conversations, so she could actually think. And hear the person on the other end of the phone.

She’d hardly talked to Hunter that day—the new security the Contessa had installed was wreaking havoc with all their phones and they’d stopped at home only long enough to change and go to the first party—but she’d texted him from the limo on the way.

He had sounded upset in his replies, neglected and a little angry, and the impact of it had lingered with her like a tight knot between her shoulder blades as she’d gotten out of the limo and talked to the reporters. She hated the feeling but knew that as soon as they could talk, everything would be fine, so she grabbed the first opportunity to slip away and call him.

“It’s great to hear your voice,” she said when he answered. “I missed you today.”

“You could hear it more if you answered my calls more,” he said, and she couldn’t tell if he was angry or joking.

Sophia felt like someone was twisting the knot in her back tighter, making it hard to breathe.
How could I answer your calls more?
she wanted to ask him. She realized she couldn’t even remember the last time she’d had a conversation without interrupting it to talk to him or write him a text. “Sorry, I was—”

“Working. I know.” He sighed. “So, how is it going?”

Why was she suddenly near tears? Why did everything feel so hard all of a sudden? She stared out the clear plastic of the tent at the city beyond, twinkling under a gray sky.
Pull yourself together,
a voice in her head told her. She said, “It’s going well, I think. I—I don’t know.”

“Babe, I hate hearing you like this,” he said, his voice earnest. “Is there anything I can do to help? Tell me what you need from me and I’ll make sure you get it.”

Sophia was shocked to find the word
space
hovering on the tip of her tongue. That wasn’t what she wanted. Where had that come from?

“I have to go,” she said, not trusting herself. “I have to get back to the party.”

“But you just called.”

“I’m sorry. I’ll call you back,” she said and hung up.

She stood with her cheek against the plastic of the tent, looking down at the phone in her hand. She was just tired, she told herself. The sense of not wanting to deal with anyone, of not having the energy to be responsible for anyone else’s feelings, was just—

“Stella?”

It was like hearing a voice from a dream. Sophia’s heart nearly stopped, her knees went weak, and she could have sworn the pavement dissolved out from under her. It couldn’t be.
Could it?

Taking a deep breath, she turned around and looked into Giovanni’s bright, mystified eyes.
“Stella mia!”
he said, leaning in to kiss her on both cheeks and wrap her in his arms.

It was only after she’d let her head rest on his chest and smelled the slightly spicy scent of cologne at his neck that she remembered her unanswered texts and the calls that were sent right to voice mail and the long silence with no explanation. She stiffened and pulled away.

He looked at his arms, then at her. “But what is wrong?
Madonna,
you are more beautiful than ever before.”

A smile tried to come out but she forced it back. “How are you?” she asked coolly. “You look well. Are you living in New York now?”

He shook his head and his mobile mouth turned down with sadness. “I am very sorry,
bellissima,
that I did not reply to your messages. The story I have to tell—”

“I didn’t say anything about messages,” Sophia bristled. She’d forgotten how he could do that, seemingly read her thoughts.

He smiled at her, laughing but not mocking, amused but not unkind. “You are the same and yet, I think…” He shook his head. “I have a tale to tell you which is long and—” His tone changed. “I’m sorry, I am afraid I must go now.”

“Are you working here?” Sophia asked. “As a waiter?”

“A waiter, yes,” he said, nodding somberly. “I am among the waiters still. And now I must go—do the waiting—elsewhere. Can we meet another time? You have still the same number? I will text you.” He touched her cheek. “I promise. You have no idea how much I have missed you. How often you are filling my thoughts.”

He disappeared as abruptly as he’d appeared, through the door to the kitchen, leaving Sophia staring after him, wondering if he’d really been there at all. Was it possible? It had felt like a dream. Looking into his eyes had felt exactly like the best dream.

She must really be tired to be thinking like that, she told herself. Hunter’s voice, Hunter’s eyes, Hunter’s
reliable
chest and arms that loved her as she was, where she was, were the stuff that dreams were made of. She’d call him back and say—

“Why do you hide yourself back here?” the Contessa’s voice interrupted, stopping Sophia mid-dial. She turned and saw her patron looking with distaste at what Sophia now realized must be a service corridor. “We go now to the next party. I have many people to confuse and delight with the blah blah. And your sister is too busy with math teachers.”

“Of course.” Sophia nodded, not even trying to make sense of the last part.

Ava appeared from behind the Contessa and took Sophia’s arm. “I spoke to Christopher Wildwood,” she said, almost casually.

“You did what?” Sophia goggled at her.

Ava nodded. “Talked to him. Calmly. Except at the end when I yelled at him. But here’s what’s weird: he acted like he’d done nothing wrong. In fact, he acted like he’d never even heard of us at all.”

“So he’s just trying to ruin our lives for no reason?” Sophia asked. She became aware that Ava’s gaze was more than usually intense. “Why are you looking at me that way?”

“What foundation are you wearing? You’re positively glowing.”

“We’re talking about Christopher Wildwood, not me.”

“I disposed of him. End of story. Now back to you.”

“There’s nothing to say. I’m not glowing,” Sophia told her.

“Superglowing,” Ava confirmed. Her eyes got big. “Wait, I know that look. It’s the look of love.”

“Wha— No. You’re—” Sophia stammered. Ava was seeing things. And the fairy lights hardly counted as good illumination.

Ava laughed. “I’m such a dope. I should have realized.” Before Sophia could ask what Ava should have realized, she went on. “That’s why we couldn’t find you. You were somewhere on the phone with Hunter. Whatever he said made you adorably giddy. I love it. You two are so cute.”

“Hunter,” Sophia said. “Phone. Right.” Any thought Sophia had had of telling Ava about seeing Giovanni vanished. Not that there was anything secretive to it. There wasn’t
anything
to it. It wasn’t worth mentioning. After all, she
had
been on the phone with Hunter.

And given his track record, Giovanni probably wouldn’t text.

*   *   *

At the second party, a dejected Lily called to inform them that she wasn’t able to get Yankee Stadium for their show but had a line on two other places.

At the third party, Sophia’s phone died. The fourth seemed to go on forever, so it was nearly three in the morning when she got home, plugged in her phone, and saw the ten messages and fifteen texts from Hunter.

The texts started off asking about her night, then got progressively more annoyed, ending with, “Who the hell do you think you are? How dare you treat me this way? I will not be toyed with. You’ll regret this.”

She was shocked and almost didn’t answer when it rang again. When she did, he barked, “Where have you been?”

“At parties,” she said briskly. She was standing, frozen, in the middle of her room, still wearing her jacket and dress, her purse dangling from her wrist. The walls were covered with beveled mirrors, each sending back a sliver of her image from a different angle, none of them happy. “Working.”

“And you couldn’t reply to one single text in eight hours? I sent a dozen.”

She watched the slivers of her step to the vanity to put her purse down and felt like it was her, not just her image, that had been sliced into pieces. “Actually you sent fifteen. My phone died and I just got them.”

“You think I haven’t heard that excuse before. Who is he? Reporter? Art dealer? Waiter?” he said with a sneer.

Sophia saw all the different pieces of her face lose color and her knuckles go white and she knew that was it. “You cannot talk to me that way,” she said in a voice that sounded as broken as she felt.

“I can talk to you however I want.”

The shock of his words sent her backward, until her knees hit the end of the mattress and dissolved, so that she was perched on the edge of the lavender-satin comforter. “No.” She shook her head hard back and forth, closing her eyes to avoid her reflection. “You have to treat me with respect.” She felt Charming leave the pillow he’d been sleeping on and come curl up next to her, as though sensing she needed moral support.

“What about you treating me with respect?” he demanded. “Instead of just disappearing, taking off with God knows what men behind my back.”

“That’s enough,” she cut him off, surprised at the authority in her voice. “I have never once been unfaithful to you. My phone battery died while I was working. I’m sorry I’m so busy. I used to be sorry I didn’t have more time with you but—” She paused, groping for words.

“Sophia,” he said.

“No, let me finish.” She felt a tear on her cheek and swiped at it. “You’re making me feel stifled and I hate it. I can’t breathe. And I can’t take it anymore. I feel like you’re making me chose between London Calling and you. And that’s a terrible, cruel position to put me in.” She took a deep, ragged breath. “You say you love me, but recently that seems to mean you want to control me. And—that’s not what love means to me. It’s not what I want it to mean.” She put her forehead in her hand, waiting for the fallout.

It was silent for so long that she thought her phone had gone out again. “Hello?” she said.

“I’m sorry.” The words were so quiet, and in such an unfamiliar voice, that at first she didn’t think she’d heard him.

“What?”

“I said, I’m sorry.” His voice got stronger. “I’m really sorry. I swore I would never do this again, and without realizing it, I’m doing it.” He let out a long, noisy breath. “There’s something I—I want to tell you.”

Sophia opened her eyes. She sensed real pain in his voice, not like anything she’d ever heard from him before, and her anger vanished. “What is it?”

“I loved my mom. You know that, we talked about her.”

“You gave me her camera,” Sophia said. “You said she died when you were fourteen.”

“Yeah. That’s what I tell people because it’s—easier.” He got quiet.

“What do you mean?”

Silence and then, in a voice that sounded like it was being squeezed from him: “When I was eight, one day, she left. Said she was going to the store, and took off.” There was a long pause and when he came back, his voice was tight with restrained emotion. “Took off and never came back. No phone call. No postcard. No message under a windshield wiper. Just gone forever. Gone like that.”

“I’m so sorry,” she said.

“When I was fourteen my father came into my room one day, picked up the baseball on my desk, and said, ‘Champ, thought you should know, Mom’s dead.’ Then he asked if I wanted to do some batting practice.” Hunter gave a tight chuckle. “That’s my dad.”

“My god, Hunter, that’s terrible.”

“That’s why I get—a little anxious, when I don’t know where you are,” he went on. “Because ever since she walked out on me, I’ve been afraid of losing someone else. And I guess I’m extra afraid of losing you. Afraid you’re going to walk out the door one morning and not want to come back.”

Sophia sank to the floor and Charming crawled into her lap. “You won’t lose me, Hunter.”

“I never want to make you choose between London Calling and me. I love your work, your company, your passion for it. I want you to succeed even beyond your wildest dreams. Please believe that.”

“I do.” Charming nuzzled under her hand.

“I’m not trying to be controlling. I’m just trying to make sure you’re okay. We’re okay. I just want to know that what we have is real. That you’re still there. That’s why I call so much. For reassurance to keep me from spiraling to a dark place. Because once I thought something was real and it just disappeared and since then it’s hard for me to believe in anything good.”