Tinsel (Lark Cove #4)(78)

I hadn’t heard from Dakota since our fight. The day I’d hung up on him, I’d made the decision not to call him again. If he had something to say, he could reach out.

He hadn’t.

And the wound he’d inflicted just festered. He’d come to New York, he’d been right here when I’d needed him most, and he’d let me down. He hadn’t cared enough about me, even as a friend, to come over.

That broke me.

Because I would move mountains for him if he was hurting or in trouble.

Once again, I’d thrown myself completely into a lopsided relationship.

I went in search of a distraction. As I walked down the hallway into my kitchen, my only company was the click of my heels on the marble floor. Next to a stack of mail, Carrie had left me a stack of papers to review.

Over the last month, I’d been looking at new buildings in the city. As much as I loved SoHo, I was ready for a change. So I’d asked Carrie to start getting details on options. I wanted to live closer to the studio. Mostly, I wanted a fresh start.

That’s what this year had become for me. Moving would bring it full circle. It would be my chance to put the old Sofia, the one I’d been running from since New Year’s, finally in the past.

Though there were still pieces of that Sofia inside me. The good qualities, the ones that reporter had refused to see, had been there all along.

I was stylish.

I was charming.

I was witty and smart.

The personal changes I’d made this year had made those qualities shine a little brighter.

As I thumbed through the papers, my fingers paused on the item on the bottom. It was a letter, addressed to me. The return address had a name I recognized. One I’d thought often about over the last ten months.

One that made me cringe.

Anne Asher.

The reporter from NY Scene.

I hesitated over the envelope. Daniel had been working with various publications throughout the city to feature the studio. This was most likely a notice that we’d been chosen for an article.

But why would it be sent here, to my penthouse? Curiosity won out and I carefully tore it open, nervous that I’d find another condemning exposé inside. Instead, there was a simple note card, white with pale blue lines. It was the kind children used when making flash cards to study multiplication tables.

The back was blank. Her clean, tiny and concise handwriting only took up four lines on the front.



Ms. Kendrick,

I am rarely proved wrong.

Congratulations on your success.





AA


“What the hell?” I turned the card over, making sure I hadn’t missed something. Then I read it again before diving back into the envelope, but there was no more.

Was this a joke? Was she genuine?

I’d probably never know. I had no plans to become friends with a woman who’d single-handedly turned my world upside down.

Still, the corners of my mouth turned up as I read it again.

This felt a bit like revenge, sweet in its satisfaction. But more, it felt a lot like pride.

Anne Asher might have been the catalyst, but I’d done the work. I’d proved to her, and to myself, there was more to Sofia Kendrick than had met her eye.

I collected the envelope and card, then walked to the trash can, depositing both inside. Then I swept up the spec sheets on the apartments Carrie had laid out for my review, taking them into the living room.

I’d just gotten comfortable when my phone rang.

An unfamiliar number lit up, but it came with the area code for Montana.

“Hello,” I answered.

“Sofia? This is Xavier Magee.”

My heart leapt into my throat. His introduction was hoarse and sullen. Nothing about his tone conveyed this was just a friendly call. My mind immediately went to the worst, that something had happened to Dakota, and my throat closed so I was unable to speak.

“Are you there?”

I nodded, clearing away the lump as best I could. “I’m here.”

“I, uh, I don’t know if you heard. Dakota’s dad passed away earlier this week.”

“Oh my god.” The world tipped sideways, and I planted a hand on the couch to keep from falling over.

How was I just finding out about this? Why hadn’t Thea or Logan told me?

Probably because the last time I’d talked to Logan I’d told him in no uncertain terms I didn’t want to hear about Dakota. That topic was off limits.

Still, his father had died. I’d deserved to know.

“Why didn’t anyone call me?”

“No one is handling this well, Dakota included. He told us all there’d been a family situation and he went home. None of us here knew. Dakota called me only a day ago and told me about Joseph. His family, my family, didn’t want me at the funeral. He went against them and invited me along anyway. We buried my brother this afternoon.”

“I’m so sorry, Xavier.” I closed my eyes, dropping my forehead into a hand. “How did he die?”

“Heart attack. No one saw it coming.”

“And Dakota? How is he?”

“Not good. He won’t admit it, but he’s really having a hard time. He and his dad didn’t have the best relationship these last five years. Now he doesn’t have the chance to fix it.”