“Hmm.” She shrugs like she doesn’t fully believe me. She’s welcome to go check out the Middle East or any other active war zone for herself.
Our food comes and I count my blessings that I can eat instead of talk to her for a minute.
“Your mom said you’re getting ready to take over the family business. I’m curious why you wasted all this time at the fire station,” she says, delicately picking through her gluten-free, dairy-free, vegan salad. She might as well be eating grass. In fact, it looks like she is.
I cut a generous piece of steak. “I’m not wasting my time there.”
She waves her hand. “You know what I mean. Why stay there longer when you could be so much farther ahead in your career by now?”
I grind my teeth together. My mother thinks Sophie can change my mind about the business. It certainly didn’t work the first time. My stubborn attitude might have been the reason I enlisted in the army, but Sophie was the reason I ran to the plane.
I square my shoulders and lift my chin. “I’m not going to take over the business.”
“Of course you are,” she says, tossing her pitch-black hair over her shoulder.
Can she even hear me?
“It’s the perfect job to secure whatever future you want—a run in politics, or to have a family. If you’re into that sort of thing.” She straightens in her seat and runs her finger around the edge of her wine glass. “Of course, if we end up together, you don’t have to worry about any little rugrats running around. I willnotbe torturing my body in that way.”
Where on earth is the waiter with the check?
IfI ever get married and have kids, it will not be with Sophie. A different woman entirely comes to mind. One with long auburn hair and enough sass to make me wonder why I don’t challenge her more. One that comes with an adorable little rugrat already in tow.
“Oh my gosh, you’re him.” A high-pitched squeal brings my head up to a group of pre-teen girls hovering around our table.
“It really is.” They whisper to each other. “He’s even hotter in person.”
I swallow.What is happening?
“Excuse me,” Sophie cuts in. “What are you talking about? Why do you think you know my date?”
The girls stop talking and look at her for the first time. One frowns.
“You’re nother.” Then they turn simultaneously toward me with matching glares. It’s eerie. “Why would you date her and not the mom?”
Who are these girls and how are they reading my thoughts?
“Whatmom?” Sophie asks, her black eyes boring into me.
I wish I had an answer to even one of these questions, but I’m so beyond lost.
I shake my head and address the girls. “I’m sorry, you must have the wrong person. I have no clue what you’re talking about.”
“No.” One of the girls shakes her head. “I can see the top of your tattoo.”
I straighten the neck of my polo.Okay. This is beyond creepy.
“This is you.” Another girl pushes her phone in front of my face.
I’m not sure what I’m looking at, then it hits me. The locker room. Lyndi. The girl stops the video on my bare chest.
Lyndi recorded that? And posted it online?
I’m unaware of my body moving until my chair topples over with a thud. One of the girls narrowly misses getting hit.
I freeze, sending the girl an apologetic look, then pull a few bills out of my wallet and drop them on the table.
“I’ve got to go.”
