Sophie lingers by the bedroom window until long after the sound of Jacks’ rumbling Harley has faded into the distance. She hates that he left; she’s glad that he left. The contradictory emotions play a tug-of-war with her bruised heart and the stupid thing won’t listen to reason. It’s good that he left, she argues again. It saves her from trying to make the decision. It saves her from hurting when he boards that plane and doesn’t return. It saves her from pretending that one of those Mancuso men could possibly be any different from the one she married.
He’s gone.
And that’s a good thing.
Sinking onto the floor, her broken heart screams differently. Sophie folds until her forehead rests on bended knees and lets the tears that she can’t restrain flow freely. Reason isn’t a lullaby that will silence her heart’s cries. Stupid, stubborn thing: it actually thinks that jerk might want her just because he can kiss her blind. Has the man even tried to hold a real conversation with her? But her heart argues with childish tantrums.
From across the room, her phone calls her out of the mish-mash of emotion. Real life is happening and she has to re-enter the world, ready or not. Stumbling to her purse, she digs into the deepest pocket until the singing device is finally found and smiles wanly at the name it promises on the other end of the line.
“Hey, Thomas,” she greets, sounding weak and teary.
“Elia,” he greets, sounding genuinely distressed. “You’re crying!”
Sophie sniffs and rips a tissue away from its box, cleaning away the evidence. “Maybe a little.”
“That will never do,” Thomas asserts, sounding quite determined about the matter. “I’m coming to get you.”
Sophie laughs, though it still manages to sound rather weak. “That’s not necessary, Thomas. I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself.”
But Thomas won’t be dissuaded and leaves Sophie smiling at her silent phone once he’s said his good-byes. See? She silently points her heart at her small phone. That’s the kind of man I need to fall for. Sweet and charming and thoughtful and . . . but her heart won’t listen. It feels nothing but numb towards Thomas’ boyish charisma. His endearing dates have only left her feeling awkward.
What is wrong with you? Sophie screams at her heart. Really? There has got to be something psychologically wrong with me to want someone who’s leaving, someone with a blasted criminal record when I could have someone so breakfast-wholesome-grain-and-goodness good!
Well, there’s nothing for it: the heart must be overruled. Maybe the majority of the world can listen to their hearts- but obviously she is among the minority with a twisted, deceptive organ pounding in her chest. She’s followed the stupid thing’s leading before. The result? Betrayal. The entire world scorned her with ‘I told you so’.
Blotting the tears away from her cheeks, Sophie skips the usual primping. She greets Thomas barefoot in her t-shirt and jeans. His response: to pull her into a long, warm hug.
See? She points it out to her heart again: a gentle, caring, good man.
The stupid organ snubs her, her emotions strangely dull.
“Won’t you come inside?” Sophie invites, ignoring her unreliable heart.
“No, my Elia,” Thomas croons. How he adores the sound of her rarely used first name. The soft vowels fill his mouth with round sounds. “You will come with me.”
“I am?”
Thomas nods. “I heard.”
Sophie blinks for a moment and then the evening’s news once again splashes across her awareness: someone is coming. Coming to kill her. How foolish: to worry over one such as Jacks when her own life is in danger. How kind: for Thomas to sweep onto the scene and offer to be her savior. “Thomas, really, I’m okay. You don’t have to . . .”
“Nonsense,” Thomas interrupts. “No reason to be exactly where he’d expect to find you. At the very least, come stay at my place.”
Sophie would argue. She even opens her mouth once, to once again assert that she is capable, but the words die on her lips. Biting her bottom lip, Sophie nods with a pink blush. Hope flairs- for who’s to say what circumstances may conspire to warm her wayward heart?
But the cold creature does not warm her chest while Thomas helps her pack- not even when his face flushed crimson when he inadvertently stumbled across her unmentionables and the toy she keeps there.
It did not warm one iota when Thomas opened the door of his car for her or lowered the gentle strains of his music to better hear her side of the conversation.
It was like rock when he gently took her hand and led her up the stairs to his apartment.
And when he lightly guided her close and brushes his lips on hers- her chest twists with revulsion.
Thomas leads her to the couch, patting the cushion beside him in invitation. “Elia Sophia, my dear, what is going on? You’re not telling me everything.”
Sophie sinks into the couch, but keeps enough distance so that they aren’t touching. “You’re right, Thomas, I’m not. But one day, this is going to be all behind me. There won’t be any more secrets and I can just . . . live.”
Reaching across the short distance to take Sophie’s hand into his own, he tries again. “Tell me.”
Sophie smiles wanly. “I wish I could, Thomas- but you have your job and . . . I guess it doesn’t mix too well with my past. Please, Tom. I don’t want to talk about it. How about some dinner, instead?”
Thomas nods, content to wait Sophie out. He can afford to be patient. She’s worth it.
YOU ARE READING
Playing Jacks
Mystery / Thriller**Winner: Licking River Writers Contest** After five years away, Jacks returns to reclaim his life- only to find a lush accountant with curves that fill out her clothes living in the apartment over his folks' pool house. Oh, the attraction is there...
