Page 98 of The Irresistible One
“Yes.”
My thumbs tapped the desktop. “I’m going to assume you’re not a Mrs., like my daughter calls you? Which is a topic that’s been brought up between us before and you never answered.”
“No, I’m not.”
I worried this was only going to dig up more complicated memories, but I had to ask. “Abbi’s father—were you close to him? Was he one who also … left?”
She wore jeans and a simple T-shirt that had no emblem; it was just white and cut off above her waist, showing hints of her navel. When her arms and legs dropped, I could see even more of her breathtaking skin.
“I don’t know who Abbi’s father is.”
I blinked several times, unsure how to proceed. “A random hookup? Yeah, I get that.”
“No. Far from that.” Emotion had woven through her during different parts of this conversation, but never as much as it was now. “A woman named Dottie was the social worker ofour foster home. She became like a mother to us, and her daughter was like a sister. Four years ago, Dottie called me and said a baby had been abandoned. That she had blonde hair and blue eyes and looked just like me.” As she blinked, that sapphire gaze was clouded with tears. “She knew I wasn’t seeking motherhood—not yet at least. But something had made her pick up the phone to call me. Something inside her told her that the baby had to be mine.”
I was already pressed into the desk, but my upper body stretched across it even more. “Sophie, you adopted Abbi?”
When she blinked, the first drip fell. “I knew nothing about parenthood, only what I had experienced with Hayden while we were raising each other. I had just made partner and was in the midst of my career. I was working over eighty hours a week. And out here, in LA, I was all on my own, except for Troy.”
She wiped her eyes and then dragged her fingers over her jeans. “But the more Dottie told me about the baby and her situation, I couldn’t say no. Abbi had been abandoned by her mother. She had nothing—no one. The thought of that tore right through me. And I knew that even on my absolute worst day, I would never be the kind of mother mine was.” She linked her hands on top of her head. “I would make sure Abbi had the childhood I’d always dreamed of. That she would feel love and protected. And I would be there for her until I took my last breath.”
Her chin quivered. “I flew to Lauderdale and went to the hospital where the state had placed her for the time being, and with Hayden by my side, Dottie put Abbi in my arms.” She used the back of her hand to dry her cheeks. “That moment, Colson, my God, it’s indescribable.” Her voice was only a little above a whisper. “But the exact second when I felt her weight and stared into her eyes and breathed her in, she became mine. It felt as though I’d created her in my belly. As though thisimmense amount of love I’d never thought I had surged straight through my body and into hers. She was my daughter.” When she nodded, more tears ran toward the bottom of her face. “I felt that with every ounce of my soul.”
My hands were desperate to wrap around her. My fingers yearned to collect her tears. My fucking heart pounded in my chest from this remarkable woman. “What you did—the risks you took and the sacrifices you made for that little girl … I hope you know how amazing you are.”
“No.” She took a second to collect herself. “What I am is a woman who’s deeply wounded by her past. I’m messy and irreparable, and I’m filled with flaws. But I couldn’t live with myself, knowing a child would have the same scars as me. And she may not have a father per se, but she has a handful of uncles who would die for her. In my heart, that’s more than enough.”
I knew another woman who would describe herself the same way.
Eden.
And that fucking stung.
“It’s more than enough,” I mirrored.
Her arms rested against her thighs, and she glanced at the floor. “Shit, I’ve really purged today. I’ve probably said too much. I mean, I planned on saying most of this, but did I need to?” She went silent. “I don’t know …”
I was surprised she wasn’t having that conversation in her head.
But those words, spoken out loud, I appreciated.
“Come here.”
She slowly looked up. “What?”
I rolled back so my legs were no longer under the desk. “Come here, Sophie.”
She gradually rose from the couch and walked over, and Itook her by the hand and led her onto my lap. The first thing I did once she was seated was place my palm against her cheek. The wetness was still there, but so was my warmth. I needed her to feel that. And when she nuzzled in, I knew she did.
“You are remarkable,” I repeated. “You need to believe that.”
She was one of the most confident women I had ever met. The way she played attorney was movie-worthy. She got what she wanted and demanded attention without even trying. But this side—this achingly raw and vulnerable side, after she’d exposed her trauma—made me feel even more connected to her.
“And if I don’t?” she asked.
“I’ll just have to keep reminding you every day.”
Her hand went on top of mine. “Colson … don’t.”
