Educating Sophia (The Moran Family Book 5) Page 19

  He takes another step until we’re eye to eye and inches apart. “We fucked up, Caleb. I’m very sorry what we did made you believe you needed to walk away.” He sighs heavily and turns away. “I love my little sister more than you can imagine, and knowing I played a part in her heartbreak kills me.” Spinning to face me once again, he offers me a contrite expression. “I know you’re a good man. You walked away from the love of your life to insure she found her place in this world. The problem is, the only place she wants to be is right by your side.”

  “Moran, why the hell are you telling me all this? It doesn’t change anything. I’m still too old for her.”

  “Do you love her?”

  “That doesn’t …”

  “Do you love her?” he yells the words this time, his deep voice booming off the walls.

  “Of course I love her. Jesus, how can you ask me that?” Tearing my hands through my hair, I fall down onto the couch and cradle my head in my palms. “Sophia is everything to me. She’s the only person who sees past my bullshit to the man underneath. She’s the only person who is not intimidated by me, and she’s the only person I’ve ever put before myself.”

  Cruz smirks at me and sits at the opposite end of the couch, propping one ankle on the opposite knee. “I can say the exact same thing about my wife.” His eyes drift to mine. “I’d like to get to know you. And I’d really like to believe you and Sophia could find your way back to one another.”

  It’s my turn to shoot him a wry grin. “Bet you’ve never spoken those words before.”

  He makes a growling sound in his throat that rivals mine. “You could say that.”

  “Does she know you’re here?”

  Cruz shakes his head. “No. She believes I’m in meetings all day.”

  My mind is a violent whirl of thoughts and worries, and after saying to hell with my commitment to not drink and pouring each of us a bit of whiskey on ice, I hand his over and resume my seat. “The bills she’s late on … I’ll cover them.”

  “Already taken care of.”

  Glaring at him, I murmur, “Of course you did.”

  He cocks his head. “She wouldn’t have taken your money, you know that. She barely consented to taking mine.”

  He speaks the truth. One of the things I love most about her is her ferocious stubborn streak. “Yeah, you’re right.”

  After a healthy sip of his whiskey, he turns curious eyes on me. “Let me ask you something. If you could get back together with her, what’s the one thing you would do?”

  A thousand and one things come to mind, but the words that roll off my tongue have been there since the moment I walked away. “I’d never let her go.”

  Cruz smiles and holds his glass up in salute. “And that, my new friend, is every reason why you must get in there and fix this. I’ve done my part, now it’s up to you.”

  His dare sits heavily on my very bruised heart. I wonder if he’s considered that maybe Sophia won’t give me a second chance, that maybe she’s realized I am too told for her and she’d rather spend her life with someone better suited for her. I wonder if he’s thought about what happens after that. What if she and I decide not to marry or have kids, but rather travel the world and spend our lives loving one another? He says he wants the best for his sister, but what if our best is not his idea of perfect? What then?

  “She may not want me anymore,” I reply.

  “Doubtful,” he counters.

  I throw back the rest of my drink, cringe briefly at the burn, and then say, “What if she and I decide to move?”

  He shrugs. “We’ll visit. I have access to a plane any time.”

  What a surprise. “I’m not sure I want to get married again.”

  He glares at me. “Quit making stupid excuses. You love her. Get in in there and fight for her. All the other stuff will work out.” He slaps my shoulder. “As long as you love her and treat her the way she should be treated, that’s all I or anyone can ask for.”

  Out of the corner of my eye, I watch him squirm. I can’t help but chuckle. He’s clearly out of his element with all this talk about relationships and love. “Moran, you must really love your sister, and your wife for that matter, if you came here and handed me your man card.”

  He glares at me. “Fuck off.” Rising, he tips his chin toward the door. “Come on, let’s go find a bar somewhere and reacquire our balls.”

  Snickering, I shove my wallet in my pocket and locate my keys. “Good idea.”

  This could be, as they say, the beginning of a beautiful friendship. Or … we could end up killing one another. Either way, I owe it to Sophia to give her brother a chance to get to know me. Frankly, I owe it to myself to get to know him. Even if she ends up shooting me down, I’ll have at least given it my best shot.

  Hope is something I haven’t felt in a long, long time. For the first time since I walked out of her apartment that night, the scent of our lovemaking imbedded into my skin as I left her, I finally believe there’s a chance for us. We have shit to work through, but Cruz is right … it will all work out. I love her, I screwed up, and I have to make things right. Not doing so isn’t an option. She’s my life, my happiness. My everything.

  “Thanks for dinner.” Charlotte grins. “What a treat.”

  Isn’t that the truth? I set our plates in the sink and run water over them. Having a fridge full of food is not something I’ve gotten used to, neither is having a large chunk of change in my checking account. Truly, I hope I never get used to it. Being grateful that my brother helped me out is a good thing; remembering how I got myself in that pickle is equally as important.

  While I’ve been frugal as can be, I did decide to treat Char and myself to steaks. I pulled out all the stops to accompany our meal: baked potatoes with all the toppings, grilled asparagus, and a good bottle of wine. I told her only to dress nice and leave her homework behind. Tonight is an evening to celebrate.

  “You’re welcome, my friend.” After refilling our wine glasses, we stroll out into the living room and retire on the couch.

  Charlotte gives me a curious look over the rim of her glass. “So, Soph, you told me we were celebrating. Celebrating what, exactly?”

  Our youth? Liberation from bills? The fact that we’re alive?

  I have no idea if there’s a true cause for celebration, but ever since Cruz made his sudden reappearance in my life, I’ve started to feel like there’s reason to hope again. Granted, nothing has changed except the large amount of cash that’s now sitting in my bank account. Large being a gross underestimate. My brother is many, many things, but his generosity is his most wonderful quality. While most folks would consider a few hundred dollars a cush amount to deposit, Cruz dropped a cool ten grand in my account and didn’t bat an eye.

  I’m an independent gal, but even I won’t turn down that kind of cash. The large deposit has insured that I can concentrate solely on school and my future, which is far more important than attempting to assert my independence by struggling to make ends meet. I can quit my job, even though it pains me to do so, but admittedly my heart hasn’t been in it for a long time. When I teach again, it will be with the knowledge that I can devote all of myself to the craft, not only the bits and pieces left behind at the end of the day.

  “Soph? You gonna answer me?”

  I raise my glass to hers. “Yeah, sorry. We are celebrating my freedom.”

  One blond brow lifts. “Come again?”

  “I gave my notice at work.”

  She’s aware of my brother’s generous contribution to my sanity, so this statement isn’t exactly news. “Good for you, my friend. I’m glad you can focus all your attention on school now.”

  “Me too.”

  She crosses one trim leg over the other, her skirt hem sliding higher. “Have you heard from Caleb?”

  “No. I don’t expect to.” I have yet to determine what I’m doing on that front, only that the subject of me and him isn’t entirely closed. I’m not yet strong enough to s
eek him out and risk refusal, but I am considering taking a chance. For now, that is enough.

  “Are you okay though?”

  Hmm, good question. If I’d been asked this same thing a month ago, I’d have said most definitely not. I suppose time does heal some wounds, though others are still gaping open and unhealed. Maybe in time I’ll reach a peace about me and Caleb, but for now I’m content knowing that I love him and that I miss him. I don’t blame him anymore because what good would that do? He, like my brothers, was only trying to protect me.

  I’m still angry at him for what he did. I doubt that will subside anytime in the near future. Making love to me and then walking away was a dick move, even for him. The thing is, I think I knew even right in the middle of our lovemaking that something was about to change. He seemed … different somehow. He’s very good at shielding his emotions, but it was clear he was struggling with what he felt he had to do.

  “I think I am,” I answer wistfully. “I still love him.”

  “I know you do, girlie.” She pats my hand and starts to speak but is interrupted by a knock at the door. “Another family member here to apologize?”

  I shrug and get to my feet, teetering on my heels. I haven’t worn these shoes since that first night I went to Caleb’s apartment. Glancing down at them the memories hit me hard, one after the other. I smile, remembering how thrown he was by my initial seduction and how quickly he took control of the situation once we hit his bedroom.

  Caleb was always in control, and yet he willingly gave that over to me on occasion because he knew it made me happy. I can say many things about my professor, but he was always unflinchingly generous to me, in and out of the bedroom.

  Shoving the melancholy aside, I smooth down my dress and reach for the door handle, pulling it open. My heart comes to a screeching halt with a painful thump … thump—thud. Caleb is standing there, a wary expression on his handsome face and a bouquet of flowers in his hand. He looks different … younger somehow even though it’s clear by the look in his eyes that he’s shouldering his share of pain. He’s clean shaven and he’s cut his hair much shorter than I’ve ever seen it, which makes those ever-changing eyes of his stand out even more.

  He looks me over, shifting from foot to foot in a move that’s endearing and equally laughable. The great Caleb Bonham is uncertain, nervous, and downright terrified. “Hi, Sophia.”

  Schooling my expression, I reply, “Hello, Caleb. What are you doing here?”

  He fidgets again, and I have to bite back a snicker. “Uh … can I come in?”

  Shrugging, I step back and give Char an amused look. The moment he sees her he starts to stammer, “Uh … I can come another time … Hey, Charlotte … ah fuck.”

  Charlotte starts to laugh and scoops her purse up off the coffee table. “Relax, Professor. I’m outta here.” She presses a kiss to my cheek and whispers, “Call me tomorrow. And thanks for dinner.”

  “Will do. Bye, hon.” Once we’re alone, I turn to look at him. He’s still fidgeting, which is so damn endearing I feel like pinching his cheeks … or doing one of the things on our once handy list of twenty. I suppose that will have to wait. “What are you doing here, Caleb?”

  He shoves the flowers at me, his hand shaking so much that the blooms bounce against one another, some delicate petals slowly drift to our feet. “I … um … brought you … um … these.”

  Oh. My. God.

  Caleb Bonham is one hot, adorable mess.

  I’m doing a little dance all over this room, even if I look like I’m standing here doing nothing. Seeing him this undone warms me in so many, many ways. “I’ll put these in water.”

  I take my time stowing the blooms in a makeshift vase, otherwise known as a water pitcher, then dig around in my cupboard for a bottle of tequila and pour him a nice, healthy shot. Strolling back out into the living room, I find him pacing the floor, the manic expression still on his face, cheeks flushed.

  “Here you go,” I state, shoving the glass into his hand. “Drink it. Then tell me why you’re here.”

  He tosses it back without pause, gulping it down and wincing at the burn. Then he sets the glass onto the coffee table and mutters, “Christ, I needed that.”

  “I’d say so,” I reply. “Caleb, are you going to answer me, because …”

  The words are immediately halted as his mouth claims mine in a mind-altering kiss that brings me up on my toes and has my body melting into his. He grinds his mouth down on mine, tongue stroking across my lips until I allow him entry. Then he’s sighing into me, his tongue eagerly searching for mine.

  All the parts of my body that have been frozen solid since the night he walked out immediately start to thaw and warm. My heart races furiously in my chest as he pulls me in closer and wraps me up in his embrace, his mouth taking full control of mine. Where minutes ago he was a loose cannon, silent and unpredictable, now he’s the man I fell in love with: confident, gentle, and completely dominating every part of me.

  His lips trace a path over my jaw, down my neck, and up to my ear, where he whispers, “I’ve missed you, sweetheart.”

  My fingers tighten on his shoulders as my head tips back to allow him room to explore. “I’ve missed you too.” I should be pushing him aside and demanding answers. I certainly shouldn’t be allowing him this much power over me, not after how he treated me, but in the middle of all those shoulds and shouldn’ts are all the reasons I love him—which is every reason to comply and ask questions later.

  His lips find mine again, softer now, gentler as he cherishes me with small, sweet kisses. One large hand is wrapped around my neck, the other skimming my jaw. When he lifts his head to look me in the eyes all that weirdness from a few moments ago is gone. His green eyes are clear, lust-filled, and no longer wary. “I love you, Sophia. I’ve loved you for a long time. And I was a fool to let you go.”

  “Yes, you were,” I state, running my fingers through his short wavy hair. His sexy as hell hair.

  Caleb grins. “Good to see you’re not letting me off the hook easily.”

  “Not a chance, Professor.”

  His eyes glaze over in a look I recognize all too well. “I was an idiot. I thought I was doing what was best for you. I was wrong.”

  “Yes you were … an idiot and wrong, that is.”

  His lips come down on my neck, teeth grazing the delicate skin. “I love you. You know that, right?”

  “Now I do.” Cradling his face in my hands, I keep our gazes locked. “You don’t need to protect me, Caleb. I know what I want. And I want you. I want you even though you’re older than me. I know that bothers you far more than it will ever bother me.” Trailing my fingertips over his face, I rise up on my toes and drop a brief kiss on his lips. “I love you even though you believed my future shouldn’t include you. My future is you. My future is us. And I’m going to lop your dick off with a dull knife if you ever doubt that again.”

  He grins at me. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “I’m not finished.” He nods, contrite, the sexy smile fading fast. “I love you regardless of the fact that you’ve been married and your ex is crazy. I love you because I also love your dad. And if you ever try to take him away from me again … yep … dull knife.” Wisely, he says nothing, just smirks and nods. “And lastly, I love you because you make me happy. You make me smile. You make me laugh. Occasionally, you even make me really, really angry.” One more small kiss, then I whisper, “I love you, Caleb. Please don’t ever leave again.”

  “Sweetheart, that I can promise.”

  My mama always said that things have a way of working themselves out. I suppose she’s right. I’m sure there will still be some ups and down for me and my man, but right now I’m not going to worry about any of that. He’s right back where he’s meant to be. In my arms, in my heart, in my life. For all my stalkerish tendencies where the Professor is concerned, my days of hunting him down are finally over.

  He’s mine. I’m his. And together we’ll walk into tha
t unknown future, hand in hand.

  Here’s the thing about my family … we celebrate everything. We get together on birthdays, anniversaries, holidays (obviously), and every Sunday just because. Although, that’s more about an actual meal rather than celebrating. However, celebrating another wedding … that’s becoming almost routine for us Morans.

  Don’t worry, it’s not my wedding. While Caleb and I are clearly head over heels in love with one another, we’re not in any hurry to put a ring on it. He has his own reservations because of his ex. But mine are simply much more practical.

  I want to graduate.

  I want to get a job.

  I want to travel the world with my man by my side.

  I want to take chances … see things, do things, explore everything.

  Okay, so not so practical I suppose, but I’m in no rush to become Mrs. Bonham. Although, I will admit I like the sound of it. I do wear his ring, a ridiculously enormous diamond solitaire he slipped onto my finger this past Christmas right in front of my entire family and Ezra too.

  See, I told you he was a lot like Cruz.

  I’m a fan of weddings, so I’m happily ensconced in all the revelry that is Roman and Sabrina’s nuptials. The wedding is in a church, the one I grew up in and the same one Mama still attends faithfully three times a week. Papa, not so much. He’ll go to Mass on Sunday, but he prefers to watch sporting events or hunting shows on the other two days she attends.

  She’ll probably never forgive him for not being the good Catholic she is.

  Eh … it’s all about compromise.

  It’s June, which like most days in Miami is sweltering and humid. The dress I’m wearing is strapless, navy blue, and the exact replica of the one the other girls have on. Emmy is the maid of honor, looking too grown-up with her blonde hair swept to the side in a long braid. Mia, Amita, Bella, and I are dutiful bridesmaids. Although, you’d never know it if you could have seen the bachelorette party. Let’s just say we Moran girls know how to send one of our own out in style.