The drive takes us away from high-rises and industrial buildings and into dark green forests. September is upon us, and leaves have just started to hint at a shift, not yet committing to the brighter colors. But the air has lost all the intense August heat, and Sophia has rolled down her window a few inches, her face turned toward the landscape passing outside the car.
It lets me glance at her as often as I’d like. Mile by mile, all the concerns I left back in the city slip away, leaving only the two of us and a weekend full of possibilities.
“What are you thinking about?” I say. She’d asked me the same only a few minutes earlier.
“That this will be our only weekend away together.”
I drum my fingers against the wheel, once, twice. “Might be, yes.”
“Might be?” She crosses her legs, clad in beige suit pants, while the matching blazer is tucked into the backseat.
“Might be,” I say. “The future is unwritten.”
She hmms. “As long as that doesn’t make you reject our pitch, you know, just to ensure we don’t have to work together again.”
“Oh,” I say, “I would never put my own desires in front of what’s best for my company.”
Sophia chuckles at that. “God forbid!”
We pull up on the long gravel road a few hours before sunset. The hotel is made up of a collection of cabins, surrounded by old, tall trees, and beautifully situated on the shores of a lake.
Sophia sighs. “God, this place is so pretty. Imagine when the leaves fully turn.”
It is pretty, built in harmony with nature. I put the car in park, and a man from the hotel comes forward immediately. Valet. Nice touch.
We’re escorted through the lobby, welcomed with a drink, and the check-in process is smoother than silk. Sophia stands beside me with a small suitcase in front, her hand curved around the handle. She gives me a smile.
“Mr. Winter?” the receptionist says, pulling my gaze back across the desk. “I’d just like to say that it’s an honor to have you stay here. Please let us know if you need anything at all.”
“Thanks,” I say and bend to take Sophia’s bag from her. We head down a corridor, and her smile widens, turns conspiratorial.
“What are you smiling about?” I mutter.
“Nothing,” she says.
“There’s definitely something.”
She glances at the attendant before leaning her head toward mine. “You must be used to this when you travel, right? Impeccable service and overly nice staff.”
I frown. “Impeccable is a high standard, but good, yes.”
“Most hotels must be scared shitless of having you stay with them,” she says, her smile smug. “You probably get the best treatment everywhere.”
“Absolutely not.”
Her smile widens. “Totally. The receptionist out there? Did you notice that she called for the hotel owner to join us?”
“No.”
“Well, she motioned for him to come out of the office. Anyway, all I’m saying is, when we check out? If you give them a compliment on their suites or their service, I think they might faint with happiness.”
I roll my eyes at her exaggerated teasing. “Right. Do you want me to write them a glowing review online, too?”
“They’d frame it if you did.”
“You know, the vast majority of people have absolutely no idea who I am,” I say. “I’ve never sought fame or notoriety, and I can promise that no one staying at this hotel will recognize me.”
“Yeah, but they’re not in hospitality. They’re—”
“Here we are,” the attendant says and pushes open the door to the suite. It’s finished in wood paneling but understated in furniture. The real showpieces are the windows, opening on the silvered expanse of the lake and illuminating the king-size bed in the center of the room.
“Everything to your satisfaction?” the attendant asks.
“Yes,” I murmur and reach into my pocket for a tip. “Thank you.”
“Dinner and breakfast are served in the restaurant downstairs, but we also have room service. You’ll find everything you need for the spa experience in the bathroom. Give us a call if you need anything.”
The door shuts behind him, and then we’re alone. Sophia runs a hand over the elaborate bedding, her form gilded by the golden sun setting outside the windows.
Just us again. Alone.
“Nice room,” I say.
She nods. Her hair had been in a bun when I picked her up, but somewhere along the ride, she’d unraveled it, and it now hangs in glossy brown waves down her back. “It’s lovely here.”
You’re lovely, I think.
She looks at me over her shoulder. “So, what do we do now? Have dinner?”
“I could eat,” I say. I’ve been hungry for days.
Her eyes heat. “Me, too.”
We make it down to the restaurant, with candlelit tables and bouquets on every table. We drink wine and order pasta and filet mignon, and then more wine, and I spend my time trying to make her laugh. A flush colors her cheeks, and the blue of her eyes glitters with every chuckle. Beautiful, I think, and it hurts to look at her.
“Anyway,” she says halfway through a story, “that’s how I got the internship.”
“You didn’t.”
She nods and sets down her wineglass. “Oh yes, and I can’t believe they hired me. I called the CEO’s landline. Her fourteen-year-old-son picked up!”
I chuckle. “To be fair, they had to hire you at that point. You were basically threatening to stalk the CEO until they did.”
“Yes.” Sophia covers her face with her hands. “I can’t believe she gave me a solid recommendation letter afterwards, too.”
“Well, I can. You did a great job, didn’t you?”
“I don’t know about that,” she says and shrugs. “I hope I did, but I was young.”
I shake my head. “Don’t do that with me.”
“Don’t do what?”
“Downplay your accomplishments,” I say, “or feign humility. You were the best damn intern they ever had. Weren’t you?”
She taps her fingers against the table. “Yes,” she admits. “I created a new system for their internal filing. The CEO called it genius.”
“I’m not the least bit surprised.”
“You know me that well?”
“Yes,” I say, “and you don’t ever have to pretend you’re anything but the best around me. Don’t make yourself smaller.”
It takes her a long few seconds to answer. “Thank you,” she murmurs. “That’s a rare thing.”
My chest tightens at the thought of her dimming her shine for anyone, let alone Percy, with his dislike for her career. “It shouldn’t be,” I say. “Fuck anyone who makes you feel like you need to make light of your accomplishments.”
She gives a rueful smile. “You’ve never apologized for being ambitious.”
“Of course, not.”
“It was probably expected of you. Maybe even encouraged, right? By your grandfather?”
I nod. “Yes. The Winter Corporation did well under my father. It didn’t grow, but it didn’t falter, either. But I have always wanted to expand it.”
“Where does that come from, for you? The desire to… to…”
“To be the best?”
“Yes,” she says, nodding. “And to want to make things around you better.”
“It’s always been there,” I say, but then I frown and consider it. “There’s also an aspect of supporting the family, I suppose.”
“Supporting?”
I look at her across the table. Interested, intelligent, and eyes like crystals. And I say things I know I shouldn’t. “The entire family draws an income from the company.”
“Oh,” she says. “I see.”
“It’s minuscule in comparison to the overall profits, of course. Basically, just dividends on the shares. But it’s substantial for the family. My great-uncle, my cousins, the extended family.” I sigh. “They’re all invested in the future of the company. If it were to fail, if we had to close shop, every single one of them would see it as a failure.”
“But none of them want to help keep it running?”
I nod, my hand tight around my wineglass. “No, they’ve all made that very clear. At this point, I don’t know if I’d even trust anyone else with it. It’s my family’s legacy, and it was my grandfather’s wish that it stays in the family…” I shake my head. “I just can’t see it fail.”
“I see,” she murmurs, and it’s clear in her eyes that she does. “It’s your cross to bear.”
For life, I think and feel the familiar weight of that responsibility, the knowledge I’ve lived with since I was a teenager. It’s been a long time since I resented it. But I resent it now, sitting across from a woman who has sworn off Upper East Side men and the superficiality of the world we come from. It’s a world I can disdain, but never leave.
I clear my throat. “Anyway,” I say, “don’t feel any pressure for the pitch.”
She laughs. “Oh, of course, not! After hearing how you’d give your life rather than seeing it fail?”
I grin. “Yes. I’ll be honest, but fair.”
“Oh, I know you well enough to know that, too,” she says and stretches her legs out beneath the table. Her ankle brushes mine. “Can I ask you a really intrusive question?”
“I’m intrigued now.”
“I think it’s finally time for you to tell me about your previous relationship.”
I close my eyes. “So disappointed.”
She laughs again and nudges my leg beneath the table. “That was an easy one! Get me another drink and I can switch to really intrusive ones.”
“Oh? Now that’s a game I can play.”
“Later,” she says. “Now tell me.”
“What do you want to know about it?”
“How long were you dating before it ended?”
“Three years,” I say. “Engaged for one.”
She nods and tilts her head. “Why did your brother invite her parents? I’ve been trying to understand that, but it just seems so rude to me. Against you, I mean.”
I shift my thumb so it rests against her palm. Of course, she’s curious. There’s no pain talking about Cordelia, no regrets, so I give her what she wants. “I told you that her parents build golf courses.”
Sophia’s eyebrows rise. “Oh, that’s right.”
“They build and manage them all across the world. I’m technically in business with Cordelia’s parents in the Caribbean, for the new resort.”
She blinks a few times. “Seriously?”
“They aren’t involved with the day-to-day, and the CEO isn’t a member of the family,” I say and shrug. “But yes. There was a fair bit of speculation at the time, if it was…”
“If you two were getting married for the companies.”
“Yes,” I say. “Wasn’t true.”
Her smile softens. “Not even a little bit?”
I narrow my eyes at her, but she narrows hers right back. “No,” I say again. “Although… you’re not wrong, either. I did consider it a perk.”
She shakes her head. “You’re ruthlessly ambitious.”
“Ruthless?” It’s not a description I’ve strived for.
“With yourself, I mean. You’re ruthless with your own happiness.”
I have nothing to say to that, my mind blank. That’s not a perspective I’ve ever applied to my own life before. Her gaze is warm on mine, and beautifully honest.
“I’m sorry about the way it ended,” she says. “No one deserves to be cheated on.”
“No. I’m sorry about the way your marriage ended, too.”
Her mouth tips up. “This got more serious than I suspected.”
“You’re the one who asked the question.”
“I did, didn’t I?” She sighs and rests her head in her hand. “You know, I can’t believe I’m here with you.”
“Hmm?” My hand moves on its own, finding the curve of her elbow. I smooth my thumb over the soft skin beneath the short sleeve of her dress.
“Just last weekend, you were in my apartment,” she murmurs. “Eating at my table and taking a shower with me.”
My smile widens. “Yes. Is this when the more intrusive questions start?”
“It might be. Brace yourself.”
“I’ll consider myself warned.”
“Last Saturday,” she says. “You were… very controlled.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Was I?”
“Yes.”
“Didn’t feel that way,” I say. The need for her had been a second pulse beneath my skin, my shorts painfully tight around my erection. “Is this because I left?”
“Might be,” she says. “It was pretty… abrupt.”
I chuckle. “Trust me, it needed to be, or I wouldn’t have left at all.”
“Oh.”
“I told you I wanted to buy you dinner first.”
“That was it? I thought it had to do with the lack of a certain… garment.”
My smile widens. “A condom is a garment, now?”
She looks over her shoulder, but no one is close enough to overhear. “Technically speaking, yes. Did you bring one this weekend?”
My entire body tightens. “Yes.”
“Good,” she murmurs, blue eyes glittering.
I motion to the waiter. Across the table from me, Sophia laughs. The sound is breathless. “What are you doing?”
“Wrapping this up,” I say. “You can keep asking intrusive questions up in the room.”
