Brown-Eyed Girl (Travis Family #4)(58)

I grinned as I went to get Coco from her crate. “I’ll bet some of the old guard were there during the original Jazz Age.”

“Why did you keep Coco in there while the Warners were here?”

“Some people don’t like having a dog wandering around.”

“I think you’re embarrassed by her.”

“Don’t say things like that in front of the baby,” I protested.

“That dog is not my baby,” Sofia said with a reluctant smile.

“Come on, help me do her nails.”

We sat side by side at the counter while I held Coco in my lap. “One of us should call Steven and tell him that the Warners liked the Gatsby wedding,” I said. I uncapped a puppy-nail-polish pen, the same shade of pink as her rhinestone collar.

“You do it,” Sofia said.

So far, Sofia and Steven had been at a stalemate. He had been unusually nice to her the past couple of days, but there had been no sign of the tenderness he had shown the night of Alameda’s visit. When I had urged Sofia to say something to him, she had confessed that she was still trying to work up the nerve.

“Sofia, for heaven’s sake, go talk to him. Be proactive.”

She took one of Coco’s delicate paws and held it steady. “Why don’t you take your own advice?” she retorted. “You haven’t talked to Joe since he took you out to lunch.”

“My situation is different.”

“How?”

Carefully I applied a coat of polish to Coco’s nails. “For one thing, Joe has too much money. There’s no way I can go after him without looking like a gold digger.”

“Does Joe look at it that way?” Sofia asked dubiously.

“Doesn’t matter. It’s how everyone else does.” The Chihuahua looked solemnly from one of us to the other as we talked. I capped the polish pen and blew gently on Coco’s glossy pink nails.

“What if he’s decided to outwait you? What if you’re both too stubborn to make the next move?”

“Then at least I’ll have my pride.”

“Pride buys no meat in the market.”

“You’re hoping I’ll ask you what that means, but I’m not going to.”

“You might as well start sleeping with him,” Sofia said, “since everyone already thinks you are.”

My eyes widened. “Why would anyone assume that?”

“Because you bought a dog together.”

“No, we didn’t! I bought the dog. Joe just happened to be there.”

“It’s a sign of commitment. It shows that you’re both thinking about a future together.”

“Coco isn’t a couples dog,” I said heatedly, but as I glanced at her, I realized she was teasing. Rolling my eyes, I relaxed and set Coco carefully on the floor.

As I returned to my chair, Sofia gave me a pensive look. “Avery… I’ve been thinking about a lot of things since I saw Luis the other day. I’ve decided that bringing him here was one of the nicest things that Mamá has ever done for me.”

“If so,” I said, “trust me, it was purely accidental on her part.”

Sofia smiled faintly. “I know. But it helped. Because facing Luis after all this time made me realize something: By not moving on, I’ve been giving Luis power over me. It’s like he’s been holding me hostage. He belongs in my past – I can’t let him influence my future.” Her hazel eyes took in my stricken expression as she continued. “You and I are too much alike, Avery. Thin-skinned people shouldn’t feel things as deeply as we do – we bruise too easy.”

We were both quiet for a moment.

“Whenever I think about moving on,” I eventually said, “it’s as terrifying as the idea of parachuting out of a plane. At night. Over a cactus field. I can’t seem to make myself do it.”

“What if the plane were on fire?” Sofia suggested. “Could you jump out of it then?”

An uneven grin spread across my face. “Well, that would definitely provide some motivation.”

“Then the next time you’re with Joe,” Sofia said, “try telling yourself the plane’s on fire. Then the only choice is to jump.”

“Over the cactus field?”

“Anything’s better than a burning plane,” she said reasonably.

“Good point.”

“Then you’re going to call Joe?”

I hesitated, surprised by the flare of yearning I felt at the question. Two days, and I missed him badly. I didn’t just want him, I needed him. I’m doomed, I thought, and sighed in resignation.

“No,” I said, “I’m not going to call him. I’d rather figure out a way to make him come here without having to ask him.”

She gave me a bemused glance. “Like fake your own kidnapping or something?”

I laughed. “I wouldn’t go that far.” After a few seconds of pondering, I said, “But that gives me an idea…”

On Saturday afternoon I closed the studio and took a long, luxurious bath. Afterward I left my hair down in loose waves and misted my wrists and throat with a light cologne. I dressed in lavender silk lounge pants and a matching lace-trimmed top that showed more cleavage than I ever would have displayed in public.