Page 234 of Theirs to Desire (Club M: Boxed Set)

SOPHIA

H unter Driesse recommends a colleague of his, Dr. Annette Reeves. “She’s excellent,” he says. “She might be booked up, though. I’m having lunch with her tomorrow. I’ll tell her you’ll be reaching out.”

Dr. Reeves agrees to see me on Friday. I show up at her office feeling nervous and heartsick. By the time I leave, I’m cried out and drained, but also a tiny bit hopeful. Ben was right. I should have seen a therapist years ago.

Simon corners me in the kitchen when I get back home. I didn’t expect to see him there. It’s Friday night, and my brother is still in the ‘must-go-out-every-Friday-night’ stage of his life. “Did your plans fall through?”

“No, I thought I’d hang out with you.”

“What if I hadn’t been at home?”

He makes a scoffing noise in his throat. “Please. You’ve been moping all week.” He grabs a beer out of the refrigerator and offers me one. I decline it. Just in case. He cracks open the bottle and takes a long swig from it. “I talked to Julian on Monday,” he says carefully.

My heart does a funny leap in my chest. “Oh.” I have so many questions. How is he doing? Did he mention me? Was Damien there? Are they angry? Do they hate me?

“Does it bother you that I’m working on his greenhouse? Should I stop?”

“What?” I stare up at my brother. “No, of course not. I'm not asking you to take sides. You agreed to work on his place. His sister is getting married there in December. You can’t walk off the job.”

He gives me a quizzical look. “Why do you care, Sophia?”

I swallow the lump in my throat. My eyes are prickling again. I’m ridiculously emotional nowadays. I’m so fragile from breaking things off with Julian and Damien that everything makes me cry. Last night, a stupid insurance commercial made me tear up.

I dig my nails into my palm and do my best to keep my voice steady. “I don’t hate him,” I whisper. “I don’t hate either of them.”

“Why did you break up with them, then?”

Annette asked me that too. I’d poured the whole thing out, and she frowned at me, puzzled. “What did Damien say when you asked him about the conversation?”

“I didn’t ask him,” I confessed, shamefaced. I’ve always thought of myself as a responsible adult. I’ve been working since I was eighteen. I get along with most people, pay my bills on time, and don’t read or respond to the comments section of the Internet.

But I ran out on them. Didn’t ask for an explanation. Didn’t listen to what they had to say. I assumed the worst of them.

I was so impulsive. So thoughtless. So stupid.

I don’t deserve them.

I’m drained from telling Annette everything, and I don’t have the energy to talk about this with my brother. “It’s complicated.”

“Do you regret it?”

“Yes.” With every fiber of my being. If I could roll back the clock, I would. But I can’t. There are no time machines in real life.

“Why don’t you call them?”

Because they deserve better. They deserve someone who isn’t this fucked up. They deserve someone who will stick around when times get hard.

“It’s complicated,” I say again.

“Do you want to?”

I nod wordlessly, my eyes filling with tears.

He gives me a long look. “Julian asked me to pass on a message to you,” he says. “He said, ‘Whatever we did, we’ll fix.’”

Hope sprouts in my heart, but I trample it. It’s not them that need fixing. It’s me.

Saturday morning, I finally rouse myself out of my stupor and head to the community garden where I volunteer. Rosemary Travis, the founder, is there, weeding a bed of lettuce. “Sophia,” she exclaims. “I’ve been meaning to call you.”

I blink in confusion. I’ve seen Rosemary around, of course, but I didn’t realize she knew my name. I’m just one of many volunteers.

She gets up, brushes mud off her knees, and gives me a hug. “I can’t thank you enough, my dear.”

“Umm, for what?”

“For connecting Julian Kincaid and Damien Cardenas with us,” she replies.

“I didn’t?—”

“The two of them have been so helpful,” she gushes. “And the timing! We’d lost our grant. Without money, we would have been forced to shut down next year, but?—”

“I didn’t know you were going to shut down,” I interrupt.

“Yes, well. I try not to alarm our volunteers. I’m sure you can relate. Things were looking really bleak, and then Damien and Julian showed up. Damien said you mentioned that we were always looking for volunteers.”

I did?

“And they donated some money?” They would. They both have generous hearts. Julian donated his signed comics to the health center’s fundraiser, and they both bid generously at the auction. And, of course, Damien followed up with another million-dollar donation.

“Money, yes, but they did so much more,” she says.

“For a couple of years, I’ve been meaning to set up a CSA box to generate some revenue, but I don’t have a technical background.

Damien built us a website, and Julian designed our packaging.

Can you imagine that? Then he mentioned us on his social media, which led to a flood of donations, which led to articles in the press.

. .” She shakes her head. “Our CSA box hasn’t even launched yet, and it’s already sold out. I’m still pinching myself.”

I don’t know what to say. What to think. “When did they do this?”

“They’ve been volunteering for weeks,” Rosemary replies. “I think they showed up in mid-September? Damien was here yesterday.”

My heart gives another leap. He’s still here? I thought he’d go back to Manhattan or Lima or wherever else he had a house. Why hasn’t he left? Why is he still in Highfield?

I dream about a baby that night. I’m in the hospital, giving birth. Damien and Julian are there, beaming with pride. My family is there too. My fathers, brothers, and Aurora all crowd into the hospital room where I’m holding my baby girl.

The dream is so vivid it takes me a few minutes to realize it isn’t real. But I can’t shake the images. They stick with me all morning. A voice inside me whispers that it isn’t a dream. Not anymore. It’s coming true.

That same voice drives me to the drugstore, where I buy a pregnancy test. It’s been eleven days since the procedure at the fertility clinic. It’s too soon to know.

Yet I lock myself in our upstairs bathroom and pee on the stick.

And it comes back positive.

I’m pregnant.

My heart overflows with joy. My heart tears in two. I’ll have the baby I’ve wanted. What I won’t have are Damien and Julian.

I’ve kept secrets from them. I’m having a baby via a sperm donor.

This is not a betrayal that I can undo.

I’m still in the bathroom when my phone rings. It’s Patricia. “Sophia, I wanted to give you a heads-up. My car won’t start.” She sounds resigned. “Ron’s going to give me a ride to dinner, but he has a prior commitment, so there’s a chance I’m going to be a few minutes late.”

Dinner? Oh fuck. I’ve forgotten all about it, but the dinner that Patricia insisted I set up to thank Damien—it’s tonight.