Brown-Eyed Girl
Page 57“My situation is different.”
“How?”
Carefully I applied a coat of polish to Coco’s nails. “For one thing, Joe has too much money. There’s no way I can go after him without looking like a gold digger.”
“Does Joe look at it that way?” Sofia asked dubiously.
“Doesn’t matter. It’s how everyone else does.” The Chihuahua looked solemnly from one of us to the other as we talked. I capped the polish pen and blew gently on Coco’s glossy pink nails.
“What if he’s decided to outwait you? What if you’re both too stubborn to make the next move?”
“Then at least I’ll have my pride.”
“Pride buys no meat in the market.”
“You’re hoping I’ll ask you what that means, but I’m not going to.”
“You might as well start sleeping with him,” Sofia said, “since everyone already thinks you are.”
My eyes widened. “Why would anyone assume that?”
“No, we didn’t! I bought the dog. Joe just happened to be there.”
“It’s a sign of commitment. It shows that you’re both thinking about a future together.”
“Coco isn’t a couples dog,” I said heatedly, but as I glanced at her, I realized she was teasing. Rolling my eyes, I relaxed and set Coco carefully on the floor.
As I returned to my chair, Sofia gave me a pensive look. “Avery… I’ve been thinking about a lot of things since I saw Luis the other day. I’ve decided that bringing him here was one of the nicest things that Mamá has ever done for me.”
“If so,” I said, “trust me, it was purely accidental on her part.”
Sofia smiled faintly. “I know. But it helped. Because facing Luis after all this time made me realize something: By not moving on, I’ve been giving Luis power over me. It’s like he’s been holding me hostage. He belongs in my past – I can’t let him influence my future.” Her hazel eyes took in my stricken expression as she continued. “You and I are too much alike, Avery. Thin-skinned people shouldn’t feel things as deeply as we do – we bruise too easy.”
We were both quiet for a moment.
“Whenever I think about moving on,” I eventually said, “it’s as terrifying as the idea of parachuting out of a plane. At night. Over a cactus field. I can’t seem to make myself do it.”
“What if the plane were on fire?” Sofia suggested. “Could you jump out of it then?”
An uneven grin spread across my face. “Well, that would definitely provide some motivation.”
“Over the cactus field?”
“Anything’s better than a burning plane,” she said reasonably.
“Good point.”
“Then you’re going to call Joe?”
I hesitated, surprised by the flare of yearning I felt at the question. Two days, and I missed him badly. I didn’t just want him, I needed him. I’m doomed, I thought, and sighed in resignation.
“No,” I said, “I’m not going to call him. I’d rather figure out a way to make him come here without having to ask him.”
She gave me a bemused glance. “Like fake your own kidnapping or something?”
I laughed. “I wouldn’t go that far.” After a few seconds of pondering, I said, “But that gives me an idea…”
On Saturday afternoon I closed the studio and took a long, luxurious bath. Afterward I left my hair down in loose waves and misted my wrists and throat with a light cologne. I dressed in lavender silk lounge pants and a matching lace-trimmed top that showed more cleavage than I ever would have displayed in public.
“I’m leaving for a girls’ night out” came Sofia’s voice as I went downstairs.
“Val and some other friends.” Sofia was busy rummaging through her handbag. “Dinner, a movie, and probably drinks afterward.” She glanced at me and grinned. “I may crash at Val’s place. You’ll want the whole house to yourself once Joe sees you in that outfit.”
“He may tell me off for the prank I pulled, and leave right afterward.”
“I don’t think so.” Sofia blew me a kiss. “Remember the plane,” she said, and left.
Wandering around the empty house, I turned down most of the lights, lit some candles in blown-glass votives, and poured a glass of wine. As I sat on the sofa in front of the TV, Coco climbed up a little set of steps to sit next to me.
We were about a third of the way into a movie when the doorbell rang.
Coco trotted down the sofa steps and hurried to the front door with an abbreviated yap. My nerves jangled wildly as I stood and followed, carrying my wineglass. After taking a deep breath, I cracked open the door to find Joe leaning against the door frame. He was heart-stoppingly handsome in a dark suit, dress shirt, and tie.
“Oh, hello,” I said in a tone of mild surprise, opening the door a couple of inches wider. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m supposed to take pictures at a fund-raising event tonight. But just as I was leaving, I found out my camera bag was empty. Except for this.” Joe held up a piece of paper covered with letters that had been cut from a magazine and arranged ransom-note style. It read: