Page 76 of Jude

I canceled evening recording sessions with the band, choosing to sit at the marble kitchen island, keeping watch over her while she cooked.

I gave her a sneak peek of our new album racks, which she loved.

I played her funny videos and memes from my phone.

What I did not share were the endless messages from Abby begging me to take her back.

I ignored my ex, my jaw tight as I contemplated crushing that past once and for all.

After more calls, texts, and voice messages, the last of which sounded drunk and pathetic, I blocked Abby’s number forever.

Sofia and I got into the habit of sitting together in the den after dinner, locked into a soap opera or her never-ending cooking shows.

One evening, we sat close, our shoulders pressed close on the black leather sofa while Bake-Off UK played on the TV.

‘You think you can make pies better than Mark?’ she said, feigning horror when I scoffed at their skills. ‘Your rolling technique sucks, Judah. You’ve the hands of a lumberjack.’

‘I can produce a loaf of bread that’ll knock you flat, woman,’ I replied, a chuckle escaping my throat.

‘That’s because it’ll be hard as a rock.’

‘You’re not wrong there,’ I rumbled.

It was not just her humor or the fluid grace and warmth she brought to my cold house; her keen mind was what gripped me.

Later that week, she proved her mettle during a joint logistics meeting at The Sanctuary.

She stood at the head of the conference table in a silk shirt, a slimline skirt that hugged every curve of her hips, and killer heels.

She didn’t just hold the floor; she ruled it.

She laid out the concept for a bulletproof digital tracking system: bilingual, scannable barcode stickers designed to sit hidden in plain sight inside hotel lobbies, venue restrooms, and remote service stations.

One scan sent non-English speakers straight into encrypted intake portals for medical and legal aid, ripping through the red tape that usually choked vulnerable immigrants.

‘Bureaucracy is a weapon designed to isolate them,’ Sofia told the team, her eyes flashing with a fierce conviction. ‘If they can reach for in a language they understand, we give them the tools to a better life.’

I sat in the back row, transfixed by my wife.

‘How much to fund it?’ I rasped when the presentation wrapped.

She ran the numbers and gave me the final total. ‘Three hundred thousand.’

‘Done,’ I growled. ‘I’ll wire the cash today.’

She and Misty exchanged beaming smiles.

‘Thank you, Jude. That means everything.’

Later, when we climbed into my truck to head home, Sofia leaned over, her fingers stroking my shoulder as she planted a kiss on my cheek.

‘Grazie, Jude. That was noble of you.’

I shrugged it off; the money was pocket change, but the light in her eyes was a prize enough.

As she sank back into the leather seat, her head resting on the window, eyes closed, a small smile on her face, I locked my gaze onto her.

My eyes tracked the curve of her nape down to the soft swell of her mouth, turned on as all hell as I fought the urge to pull the truck over and claim every inch of her.