Page 64 of Rebellious Hearts

I’d been holding back who I was and where I’d come from for a long, long time. None of us really liked to talk about us being adopted, and my parents had done everything they could to make sure the newspapers never caught wind of it.

It didn’t matter, my dad always said. What happened in our past was exactly that—the past. The important part was the present, and the future, and that was all we focused on.

But in a way, itdidmatter, because it defined who we were. We had to know where we came from to know where we were going, right?

Or where weweren’tgoing, in my case.

That was how I’d felt—like I was spinning around in circles, going nowhere, until Sofia had come along with her crazy sense of direction.

I’d never met someone so sure of herself, so set on what she wanted to achieve, and yet she’d told me she was insecure.

I couldn’t put the two women together, but her telling me meant everything to me.

The car slid through the streets of Harborview, and my stomach twisted in knots of nerves. As if Sofia could feel my tension, she tightened her grip on my hand.

We didn’t have to hold hands yet—we were still on the way, and we didn’t have to pretend for anyone. But I liked holding her hand. Sofia made me feel like, for the first time, I was anchored. I’d been wandering around, not knowing where I belonged, but now, I felt like my feet touched the earth and I was steady.

“It’s going to be okay,” Sofia said softly.

“Let’s hope.”

“If it doesn’t work, then we’ll just have to figure out another way to do this,” she said. “But this project is a big deal, so we’re going to make it happen one way or another.”

I nodded. That determination and her business savvy were so fucking hot.

We finally arrived at the address Richard had sent us. He stayed in a rented house on the outskirts of Savannah, not too far from Harborview.

The house was charming and about as southern as they got, sprawled beneath oak trees and draped with moss. A grand porch wrapped around the house, adorned with white columns. The house was painted in a pale yellow that exuded warmth.

“Oh, this place is like a dream,” Sofia breathed when we climbed out of the car. She looked out over the lawn, laced with colorful flower beds, and a fountain babbled somewhere nearby.

“Welcome, welcome!” Richard cried out, opening the double front door with flair. He had a broad smile on his face, and I let go of Sofia’s hand to shake his.

He was dressed much the same as I was—gray chinos, a white button-up, and a sports coat that made him look more relaxed, although with his gray beard so neatly trimmed and his hair combed to the side, he would always look polished.

“You have a wonderful home, Richie,” Sofia said, greeting him with a kiss on the cheek as if they were old friends.

A pang of jealousy shot into my chest, but I pushed it away.

“Oh, it’s just a rental until we know exactly what’s happening, but I wouldn’t mind owning the place.” He looked around. “My Martha would have loved it here.” He looked emotional for a moment.

“It’s so peaceful,” Sofia said warmly, and she squeezed Richard’s arm.

That seemed to snap him out of his emotional moment, and he shook off his sorrow.

“Come on in,” Richard said with the same jovial voice he’d welcomed us with. “The dining table is set, and the wines have breathed long enough.”

We walked through a formal living room, a casual living room, and finally the dining room adjacent to the bar. This wasn’t my kind of house, but it was homey, and it suited Richard perfectly. I had a feeling he would end up buying it whether the project went through or not.

In the dining room, an antique table was set with fine cutlery and china, and a vase with flowers took center stage.

The walls were adorned with oil paintings, and the lights were turned down a little to add to the warmth and intimacy.

“Please, sit down,” Richard said, gesturing to the chairs.

I pulled out Sofia’s chair for her, and she smiled at me. Her gray eyes were bright, and I sat down next to her.

“I hope you came hungry,” Richard said. “You’re in for a treat.”