“Yeah, it was.” She adjusted her position on the sofa and winced at the sudden pain in her ankle. “But I’m closer to my parents because of it, I think.”
Holding up his finger to indicate she should wait, Wolfe walked to the kitchen. A moment later, Sophie heard the sounds of water being poured and Motrin being shaken out of the bottle. Her gaze snagged on the mistletoe hanging from the archway leading into the kitchen and she thought of last night, when Wolfe and she had kissed. On the cheek, but still. It was the most action she’d had in a long time. She felt her pulse kick up at the memory of his hazel eyes, gazing into hers. At the way his cheek had felt against hers, rough and warm and solid.
She shook her head, trying to get her brain under control, when he walked back in with a bag of frozen peas that he set over her ankle. After handing her a glass of water and two Motrin, he propped her ankle up on a throw pillow. Sophie took the medicine, set the glass down, and settled back against the couch arm. “This is really nice of you.”
Waving her off, he took a seat in the teal armchair he’d been sitting in the night before, when she’d done his tarot. “You were telling me about being an only child.”
Sophie laughed.
“What?”
She shook her head, still smiling. “Talking about my childhood, you in that armchair, me on this couch … I’m getting major therapist vibes.”
Grinning, Wolfe said in a really bad Freud accent, “Tell me your dreams.”
Sophie chuckled. “Well, my biggest dream right now is to write a hundred books over the course of my career.” She gave him a defiant look, but he didn’t seem to pick up on her vibe.
“You have eight books published and you do three or four books a year, right? And you’re, what, twenty-five? I’d say that’s definitely doable. You should keep a little countdown to one hundred.”
She smiled a little. “My dad has one at my parents’ house in Nob Hill.”
“They’re supportive of your career?”
“Very.” Sophie picked up her water and took a thoughtful sip. “I wasn’t one of those people who was told a career in the arts was useless. Ever since they saw me show promise, my parents gave me every opportunity to succeed. I think that’s why my first book was accepted for publication when I was still in college. I always just took it for granted that this was what I’d do with my life.”
“That’s really cool,” Wolfe said, settling back against the armchair. The teal velvet fabric made his eyes look bluish gray, like polished river rock. “I think my mom’s biggest disappointment in life is that I became an online book critic instead of something in a helping profession.”
His phone beeped with a text message. Wolfe pulled it out of his pocket and checked the screen. A frown etched his brows as he looked up at Sophie. “Can I make a phone call in private?”
“Sure, use my bedroom,” Sophie said, pointing.
Without another word, Wolfe got up and strode from the room, his cell held tight in one fist.
A moment later, she heard him talking to someone. Maybe she should’ve warned him that the walls of her cabin were extremely thin. Too late now.
“I don’t understand,” Wolfe was saying, his voice low. “You broke up with me.” A pause. “So what’s changed over the past year?”
There was a long silence. “In other words, you don’t want to be alone on Christmas.”
Sophie listened with bated breath. What was going on?
“I don’t know, Hannah. I need to think about it. No, you can’t come over. Because right now I’m stuck in a snowstorm in the middle of nowhere.” Another long pause. “Okay, I will. Bye.”
Sophie immediately picked up her phone and began scrolling through her apps, just to make it look like she wasn’t listening. A full minute later, the hallway creaked with Wolfe’s footsteps. And then he was back in the living room, his phone still in his hand, his face dark and clouded with emotion.
He stood in the middle of the room, looking lost for a moment. “Hey,” he said finally. “Are you hungry? I can rustle something up for lunch.”
Sophie shook her head. “It’s, um, only ten o’clock.”
“Oh.” He pushed a hand through his dark hair, glanced down at his phone, and slipped it into his jeans pocket. “Right.”
“Wolfe…” Sophie bit her lower lip and considered her next words. “Who’s Hannah?”
His face went blank, every expression sliding off. “You heard.”
“I did. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop. My walls are just really thin.”
He heaved a sigh so deep, Sophie was afraid he’d huff and puff the cabin down. Wolfe sank back down on the armchair, his head dipped and his hands between his knees. “It’s okay. At least now I don’t have to pretend to be in a great mood the rest of the day.” He looked up at her after a moment. “Hannah’s my ex; she broke up with me last year. And just a few minutes ago, she texts me saying she’s rethinking everything and wants to get back together.”
Sophie studied his expression, the torn look on his face. “Wow. Is that … a good thing?”
His lips tightened into a thin, hard line. “She cheated on me and then dumped me, so I’m thinking not.”
Sophie winced. “Ouch.”
“Yep. But I guess the other guy’s out of the picture now.” He blew out a breath.
“So … you’re still considering it? Taking her back, I mean.” When he frowned at her, she explained, “On the phone, you didn’t tell her no outright. So I’m guessing there’s a small part of you that’s wondering, what if?”
He studied her for a long moment and then shrugged, looking away. “I guess. I don’t know.”
“I’m sorry.”
Wolfe looked at her again, lines around his mouth. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”
“Sure.” Sophie smoothed the
