Ch. 12: A Door Left Open

There were things Sophia had learned never to say aloud, and most of them were about he.

"I'm not asking you to forgive me," Sophia said. "I'm asking you to listen." She remembered the first time, and the last, and all the ordinary days in between that had somehow mattered more.

Money could buy a great many things, he had learned, but never the one thing that was wanted most. Money could buy a great many things, he had learned, but never the one thing that was wanted most. Money could buy a great many things, he had learned, but never the one thing that was wanted most.

Sophia crossed the room slowly, aware of every step, of the way he was watching without seeming to. Money could buy a great many things, he had learned, but never the one thing that was wanted most.

There was a history between them that neither would name, written in the things they did not do. The conversation turned, the way conversations do, from the easy things to the ones that mattered. "I'm not asking you to forgive me," Sophia said. "I'm asking you to listen."

For a heartbeat the careful distance between them thinned to nothing at all. "You shouldn't have come," he said, and the words landed softer than they were meant to. The conversation turned, the way conversations do, from the easy things to the ones that mattered.

They did not speak for a long moment. Some silences carry more than words ever could, and this was one of them.