“What do you think? Should we do it?”
“Sorry, I spaced out. What are we doing?”
She looked at me, sympathy in the way her brow furrowed and her lips turned down. She was concerned about me, and I appreciated the sentiment more than she would ever know.
“A girls’ trip to Vegas.” Sophia repeated patiently.
I must have been zoned out for a while, because I didn’t remember her mentioning anything about it.
“I mean…,” I hesitated, not really knowing what to say.
“What?” she asked, popping the baking tray into the sink and coming to sit down kitty-corner to me. “What’s got you in your head?”
I smiled sadly. “Just thinking about what I’ve learned from these last couple of weeks with you and Pierre. I know I want the rest of my life to be different, but I have no idea how to make that happen.”
“Let’s start with Vegas.” She grinned and moved her hands as if pushing open curtains on a stage. “Picture this. We get dressed up in fancy clothes and see some shows—Cirque du Soleil or a cabaret. We eat at nice restaurants and drink champagne. We go shopping and get pampered at a day spa. Maybe even take a helicopter flight over the Grand Canyon.”
I smiled wistfully. It sounded wonderful. It all sounded incredible. Maybe a trip like that was exactly what I needed to get out of this funk and my life back on track. Left up to my own devices, I’d stay at home in pajamas. I was a homebody at heart. I loved home-cooked meals and evenings with friends. Aside from work and the conferences I attended, I didn’t get out much. The idea of a few days spent living it up sounded fabulous.
“You’re hesitating,” Sophia said.
“I want to….”
“There’s clearly a ‘but’ coming. Except I’m not listening to it.” Sophia grinned.
Then she became serious and reached out to grasp my hand. She squeezed it and I had to blink back tears.
“You need this, Carina. Hell, I do too.” She huffed and shook her head. “I’ve missed you, and I want to have some fun together. Neither of us ever do girls’ trips. Let’s do it together just this once.”
I nodded and she beamed. “Excellent!”
My responding smile was tentative. I was excited, but it was nerve-wracking too. This vacation was safe—it was familiar. But Vegas was a big city with people everywhere. It was bright lights and nights out. It was so far out of my wheelhouse that it was scary.
Sophia pushed the plate of cookies toward me, and I picked one up. It was still warm and so deliciously soft. I broke a piece off and popped it into my mouth. They were so good. Nothing beat old-fashioned chocolate chip cookies. I moaned and snagged another one before pushing the plate back to Sophia.
“Have as many as you like,” Sophia offered. “I’m going with five,” she declared with a smirk.
My smile grew as I ate another piece of the cookie and thought about the trip. I could totally do this. I was an independent woman who was in the prime of her life. I had curves for days. I was smart and confident—even if my confidence had been taken down a peg or two, given my ex-husband’s exploits—and I had my best friend with me. We were doing this. We were going to Vegas. I pulled back my shoulders, lifted my chin, and nodded. “We’re doing Vegas.”
Sophia laughed and held up her mug to mine. We clinked them together, and she gestured to Pierre’s office where she kept her laptop. “Let’s book some flights.”
“Sophia,” Pierre called.
“Yes, my love,” she answered.
“Your maman is calling me. Can you call her?”
Her brow furrowed, and she went to her bag. Her eyes widened when she looked at her screen. “I’ve missed five calls.”
She swiped her screen and held her phone to her ear. “Maman,” she greeted, pausing for a moment before speaking in rapid-fire French.
I didn’t understand any of it, but Sophia’s body language spoke volumes. Worry lines deepened between her brows, and her mouth turned down in a frown. She gasped and held her hand to her mouth, tears springing to her eyes. Whatever her mum was telling her was bad news.
Sophia nodded and exhaled slowly before sucking in a long breath. “Maman,” she said, then spoke again in French.
When she lowered her phone to her chest, I stood up and gestured to the corridor where my bedroom was. “I’ll give you some privacy.”
“It’s okay. Stay,” she answered. “My father has had an accident. He needs an operation to pin his femur. My mother needs me. She doesn’t drive, and—”
