Sophie would like to say she’d never been so humiliated in her life. But that would be a lie.
No, she had been much more humiliated than this. Just not quite to publicly.
“Sophie?” She turned at the sound of her name, momentarily disoriented by the commotion. With a start, Sophie remembered why she was at the wedding expo, and it was not for a proposal.
“Can I get a selfie and an autograph?” asked a young woman in a T-shirt with the slogan, Eat it simple with Sophie .
“Sure,” Sophie smiled, stepping forward to lean in beside the young woman who held out her phone. The camera clicked, capturing them both in a moment of forced cheerfulness that Sophie hoped didn’t look as strained as it felt.
“Thanks!” The young woman stepped back, beaming as she examined the photo. “I’m such a fan. Your simple lemon-thyme roasted chicken is the best thing I’ve ever made. My boyfriend proposed the night I cooked it for him! And now we’re here planning our wedding.”
Sophie’s smile tightened slightly at the mention of proposals, but she managed a warm laugh. “That’s wonderful! I’m so glad it worked out for you.”
Before she could retreat, two more women approached, phones in hand.
“Sophie! We love your Insta! Could we get a picture, too?”
She obliged, posing with them as they gushed about her five-ingredient pasta sauce and how they’d followed her series on simple and affordable dinner parties. Sophie found herself caught up in their excitement and enthusiasm, despite her earlier humiliation. Which they tactfully did not mention.
Or maybe it had not been that big a deal. Most of her followers knew she was a no-drama kind of person. That she wasn’t just an eat-simple kind of woman, but that she also followed a keep life simple mantra.
“Your recipes saved my sister’s bridal shower after her caterer let her down last minute,” one of them said. “I was so nervous when she asked me to help her out, but they turned out fantastic. And they were so tasty, everyone thought I’d slaved for hours!”
“That’s exactly the point,” Sophie replied, feeling a small surge of pride. “Good food doesn’t have to be complicated.”
As she chatted with them, the hair on the back of her neck prickled. Someone was watching her. Sophie glanced up and immediately locked eyes with him …the man who had “proposed” to her. He stood across the room, those intense, dark eyes fixed on her with an expression she couldn’t quite read.
Her heart rate quickened as she turned away.
Why did he have to be so ridiculously handsome?
With his broad shoulders filling out that tailored suit and those strong artist’s hands.
.. She frowned, irritated at her own reaction.
She was definitely on the rebound. Hard on the rebound.
But then, it had only been two days since her life had imploded. Her romantic life, at least.
Her professional life, on the other hand, was soaring. It was why she’d been invited to this expo in the first place, because she’d somehow become a social media influencer.
She’d been posting on social media for a couple of years, building a small but loyal following, but things had really taken off when she shared the recipes she’d created for her best friend’s wedding. They were simple and stylish, which aligned perfectly with her “Eat It Simple, Sophie” brand.
She thanked her fans and turned to head toward stall number one, the scene of the crime. It wasn’t exactly how she’d dreamed of being proposed to.
Sophie had always dreamed of a more romantic setting for a proposal. Certainly not a room filled with strangers with their phones raised, capturing her shock for their social feeds.
No, in her fantasies, it had always been somewhere secluded and meaningful, perhaps at sunset in a vineyard, or beside a mountain lake with wildflowers dancing in the breeze.
There would be champagne chilling in an ice bucket, and it would be just the two of them, sharing that perfect, intimate moment.
The thought made her chest ache. Had she really believed Tito might be that person? The man who would drop to one knee and offer her forever? She swallowed hard, remembering how easily she’d been swept up in the fantasy, letting herself believe in happily-ever-after despite all the warning signs.
“Such a fool,” she whispered to herself. She now doubted Tito had ever been capable of that kind of romance, because he was not capable of that kind of love. His betrayal had done more than end their relationship; it had poisoned something vital inside her. The ability to trust. To believe.
Sophie felt the telltale burning behind her eyes and took a deep, shuddering breath.
No. She absolutely would not cry here in public.
Not when there was every chance someone might capture it on their phone and post it online.
She hated the idea that Tito might see it and think her tears were for him.
Because they were not. No, they were for the dream that had died inside her. The dream he had killed.
She reached the stall, decorated with her Eat it Simple with Sophie brand logo and free handouts containing her favorite recipes.
The sight of her brand logo—her name in clean, simple lettering against a soft blue background—brought a brief moment of calm. This was what she should focus on. Not the humiliation of a fake proposal or the sting of Tito’s betrayal.
But then she froze mid-step. Fake-proposal man was walking directly toward her, his determined stride eating up the distance between them.
Sophie swallowed hard. She would much prefer it if he’d kept his distance. After hearing him laughing in the corridor earlier, she was going to need all her self-control not to be rude. And rude did not fit her brand.
Oh, why couldn’t today have gone smoothly? Why can’t you keep it simple, Sophie? she thought with an ironic smile at herself.
“Excuse me,” his deep voice was even more appealing up close, with a hint of gravel that sent an unwelcome shiver down her spine. “I wanted to apologize properly for what happened earlier.”
Sophie squared her shoulders and faced him, determined to remain professional despite the flutter in her stomach. “Which part?” She kept her voice low, mindful of the people nearby who might be watching. “The fake proposal or laughing in the corridor?”
He winced as if she had physically struck him. “Please,” he said, his expression earnest. “It really was a misunderstanding. I’m Nero Thornberg. I made that ring for someone else…my brother texted me the wrong stall number. And well, I must have tripped…”
“Nero Thornberg?” Sophie repeated, recognition dawning. “The jeweler?”
He nodded, a hint of surprise crossing his features. “You’ve heard of me?”
“My best friend, Melissa, has one of your pieces. She never stops showing it off.” Sophie hated that she was engaging with him, but curiosity was getting the better of her. “So you’re saying what happened was...an accident?”
“Completely,” he assured her, then he hesitated. “Though I have to admit, when I saw you, I...”
Something in his gaze made her heart skip a beat. It was intense, almost reverent, as if he was seeing something in her that no one else could.
“You what?” she prompted, suddenly needing to know.
A middle-aged man approached them, clutching one of her recipe cards.
Nothing made her happier than the fact that her fan base was so diverse, spanning all walks of life.
From the elderly couple in their seventies who loved her comforting stews, to the young, single mom who swore by her quick weeknight dinners. “Excuse me, Sophie?”
“Yes,” Sophie smiled, though inwardly she sighed. As much as she appreciated her fans, right now she would much rather continue her conversation with her fake fiancé.
She really needed to stop thinking of him in terms of marriage. Even if he sure looked like marriage material in that sharp suit and intense eyes that seemed to see right through her.
Sophie cleared her throat, aware that she was practically drooling over the guy in the same way her fans drooled over her overnight oats with honey-cinnamon apples. The recipe was ridiculously simple, just five ingredients—but her followers had gone wild for it.
“Would you mind signing this for me?” the man asked, holding out Sophie’s recipe card. “I’ve made your three-ingredient chocolate mousse four times this month alone.”
“It’s good to treat yourself from time to time,” Sophie said, taking the proffered pen.
“Can you put ‘to Max’?” the man asked.
“Of course.” She signed with a flourish, adding her tagline: “To Max. Eat it simple! xox Sophie.”
“Could we get a quick selfie, too?” the man asked, looking a little awkward.
“Sure thing,” Sophie obliged, summoning her camera-ready smile as the man leaned in and snapped the photo.
“Thank you,” Max said as he glanced at Nero and then at Sophie before walking away.
“You’re very welcome.” Sophie waited until Max was out of earshot and then switched her attention back to Nero Thornberg. She was surprised to find him still waiting patiently, watching her with that same intense gaze.
“You were saying?” Sophie asked, curious despite herself.
“I was...” he looked a little dazed, as if he’d been lost in thought. He shook his head slightly. “Sorry, I was just thinking how natural you are with your fans. It’s impressive.”
Sophie felt her cheeks flush pink at the compliment. “It’s easy when people are nice. And they usually are.”
“I can imagine,” he said, his eyes crinkling at the corners when he smiled. “You have a way about you that’s...inviting.”
The word hung between them, charged with meaning that Sophie didn’t quite understand. Or maybe she simply wasn’t ready to acknowledge it.
However, she couldn’t ignore the basic, instinctive pull she felt toward Nero.
“The ring,” she said, changing the subject. “It was stunning. Truly beautiful work. I hope the bride-to-be likes it.”
“I don’t know if the proposal is happening now.” Nero glanced over his shoulder and said, “I think I ruined the surprise.”
“You don’t say,” Sophie said sarcastically. But then she felt bad as Nero’s obvious distress showed in his expression. His dark brows drew together, and his shoulders slumped slightly.
“I’m sure it’ll all work out for them,” Sophie whispered. Like it had for her, she thought ironically. Two days ago, her life had been perfect: a successful career, a loving boyfriend. Then she’d discovered Tito’s betrayal, and everything had crumbled.
“You’re kind to say so,” Nero said. “Most people wouldn’t be so understanding after being accidentally proposed to.” He looked around. “In such a public way. By a stranger.”
Sophie laughed, surprised by how genuine it felt. “Well, it’ll make a good story for my social media. ‘Weirdest expo experience ever.’”
“I hope I’m not just relegated to ‘weird experience’ status,” Nero said, as if it truly mattered to him. “Maybe I could make it up to you? Coffee, perhaps?”
Sophie felt herself warming to him despite her reservations. “I don’t know,” she hedged. “I’m pretty busy with the expo today.”
“After? We could meet in town…” he said.
Was there a slightly desperate undercurrent to his tone?
Goodness, what if he was trying to set her up for another social media-worthy stunt?
“I’d like the chance to show you I’m not usually this awkward.
Though I kind of am in crowds. And around beautiful women… ”
The compliment sent up a warning flag. He was trying too hard. “Do you expect me to say yes because you’re flattering me?”
“No!” He held up his hands. “I was… It was just a…” Nero let out a long breath. “The truth is, I’m terrible at this. I craft jewelry that helps people express their deepest feelings, but I struggle to express my own.”
Something about his candor disarmed her. She’d been prepared for another smooth-talking charmer like Tito Alvarez, but Nero seemed...different.
Was she letting herself be fooled again? It was time to keep things simple and play it safe.
“I’m sorry, I’m busy,” Sophie said firmly. “It was...interesting meeting you, Mr. Thornberg.”
She turned away before he could respond, the treacherous voice in her head screaming at her that she was making the biggest mistake in her life.
But Sophie knew better. Men like Nero Thornberg—handsome, charming, talented—were exactly the kind she needed to avoid.
No matter how perfect their jewelry was or how sincere they seemed, she wouldn’t make the same mistake twice. Her brand was all about keeping things simple, after all. And nothing complicated a simple life faster than a broken heart.