Landlord Wars(38)

Head held high, Sophia brushed back a few strands of hair that had fallen in her face and grabbed a worn leather bag next to the floral couch with a weird bamboo base I never could figure out. She gave my mother a stiff smile. “I’ll draw up some design suggestions and get them to you later.” She hurried toward the door.

I subtly reached for her arm as she passed. “Are you okay?”

She shook off my touch and kept walking, her face flushed.

I wanted to run after her and apologize, but I got the sense she wouldn’t welcome it. Not right now.

I leveled a look at my mother. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“My, my!” Kitty said. “Don’t be so dramatic, Maxwell. I’m hiring a designer. I met Sophia at your rooftop party, and then Gwen recommended her.”

Gwen glanced between us nervously, but she didn’t say anything, and she didn’t get up to leave.

I crossed my arms. It was possible my mother knew nothing about my interest in Sophia, but she’d humiliated a friend. “Sophia is a highly educated, skilled designer. Ordering her to move heavy objects is not a part of her job. Not to mention it’s insulting.”

My mother rolled her eyes. “Pish. I was nice, wasn’t I, Gwenny?”

Gwen delivered a charming smile to my mother. “Of course.”

Bullshit. I could only imagine how Sophia had felt being bossed around by a rich client. She probably hadn’t believed she could say no. And then there was Gwen, coddling my mother’s ego. “I’m leaving,” I said.

My mother’s forehead wrinkled. “But we haven’t discussed the reason I asked you here today.”

I turned my back on her and walked to the exit of the stuffy salon no amount of light and air could break through. “You have a phone. Use it next time.”





Chapter Seventeen





Sophia





“What’s wrong?” My sister sank into the booth at Bay Café after I’d called her over for an emergency meetup. She was looking showered and rather put together after her undignified early morning getaway.

I took a bite of my croissant, barely tasting it. “How long do you plan on refusing to come to my apartment? Because meeting here every time we want to get together is going to become a nuisance.”

Elise had refused to meet at my place, and after running into Max at his mother’s, all I wanted was to return to my bedroom for the next six to seven years and stream Gilmore Girls from my laptop.

“Forever,” Elise said flatly.

I threw down the croissant. “This is ridiculous. Talk to Jack and work things out.”

Elise reached across the table, stole the croissant, and jammed it into her mouth. “Not happening,” she mumbled, croissant flakes falling from her lips.

I could be stubborn, but Elise was a donkey.

“So what’s up?” she said, poking me in the arm after she’d finished chewing my food. “Why aren’t you eating?”

“I’m eating,” I said and sipped my water. In truth, I didn’t have much of an appetite. I was embarrassed, confused, excited, and worried all at the same time. “My boss offered for me to buy Green Aesthetic.”

Her eyes widened. “Are you kidding? That’s incredible.”

“It is,” I agreed as the waitress dropped off two plates: a sandwich for Elise and a salad for me. I picked at the roasted beet and apple salad. “Victor’s putting together a business proposal. It’s exciting, but I’m worried I’ll be getting in over my head.”

Elise studied me as she took a bite of her BLT, which I’d preordered because she’d texted me that she was “ravenous.” This I translated to get food stat or there’d be a hangry situation.

“You might be getting in over your head,” she said, “but if anyone can take on the responsibility and succeed, it’s you.”

Somehow, I managed swimming through uncharted waters well. But there was always a first time to sink. “It’s a risk.”

“But a good risk. It’s what you’ve always dreamed about, so why the sad face?”

I brushed Elise’s croissant crumbs from the table. “Victor asked me to meet a new client today for a consult.” I looked up and caught her eye. “It was Max’s mother.”

I explained how I’d met Max’s mother at the rooftop party, along with his ex-girlfriend.

Elise’s mouth twisted. “That’s a weird coincidence.”

“Or not.” I pinched the bridge of my nose.

Being called over to Kitty Burrows’ house had felt like a setup. She’d been expecting me personally, and then there was Max’s ex sitting there, cozy as could be. But there was no way Victor would have done something like that. He didn’t know Max and his family; not to mention, he was the kindest man alive. The one time I’d dared look Max in the eye in his mother’s fancy drawing room, he’d seemed surprised to see me. He couldn’t have set it up either.

“I didn’t know it was Max’s parents’ home until a man opened the door and led me to the back of the house, overlooking a garden.” I set my fork on the table, giving up on the salad. “A garden, Elise. A freaking garden in the middle of San Francisco. And not some small patch of grass. Oh no, Max’s family lives in a Victorian mansion I’ve ridden the bus past a million times and assumed was a museum. His family is so rich they have a man who answers the front door—”