The Hero + Vegas = No Regrets

I finger the pages from my lawyer as I pull them out of the envelope. I didn’t exactly ask him to draw up the papers, but I told him what happened and inquired about the easiest way to exit a spur-of-the-moment marriage. He’s taken the initiative to draw up divorce papers for us to sign. I knew what they were when they arrived at my office, which is why I brought them home. I didn’t want to look at them earlier, and I don’t want to look at them now. The last thing I want is to divorce Sophia.

The doorbell rings and I put the papers down on the console table before opening the door. Sophia is on the front stoop, looking beautiful. Her cheeks are pink from the cold and her hair peeks out from under her hat, making her look younger than usual.

“Hey,” she says with an adorable little wave.

“Thanks for coming.” I kiss her on the cheek and take the duffel she has by her side. I usually stay at her place. Tonight is the first time we’ll be staying together at the brownstone.

“This feels weird,” she says. “And you look so formal.”

She looks nervous, and I can’t help but smile at her. She’s so beautiful. It’s good to have her here. “I just stepped through the door. You must have followed me up the street.”

“Did you walk?” she asks, as I help her out of her coat.

I laugh. “No. My driver dropped me.”

“So here we are,” she says. “I’m officially staying over at the brownstone.”

I want her to feel comfortable here, like she’s at home. I know she doesn’t want to move in, but I want her to see that living together would be something positive. Nights spent at her apartment are just that: nights. We go there after dinner or a movie. But I want to hang out here. I want this to be ours.

I put down her bag and pull her into my arms. “I’m happy to have you here.”

Her smile falters. I don’t know why.

She glances sideways, and I follow her gaze. She’s staring at the papers from my lawyer.

“I got them today from my lawyer. I’ve not had a chance to look at them.”

“Divorce papers?” she asks.

“I think so.”

“Let’s look,” she says, nodding at the table.

My body sags. This is not what I had planned for our first evening here. I want to cook together, slow dance in the kitchen to some Luther Vandross, eat dinner, then take a bath together. I want us to talk. I want to hold her. I really don’t want to talk about divorce.

“You can read it,” I say. I’m not hiding anything from her.

She picks up the papers, follows me into the kitchen, and slides them onto the kitchen table.

“Would you like some wine?” I ask.

She nods, and I show where the glasses are while I get a bottle of red from the wine fridge. “This Argentinian malbec is gorgeous,” I say. “Efa says her brother-in-law owns the vineyard.”

“Really?”

“Efa has a brother-in-law for every occasion.”

“I like her,” Sophia says.

“I do too. She’s good for Bennett.”

“You’re lucky to have such wonderful people around you, Worth.”

I pour the wine. “I know. I’m a very lucky man.” My eyes slice to hers and she offers me a half-smile.

“How’s Avril?” she asks. “Have you decided on the hotel yet?”

I pull out a chair and take a seat. “Not yet. I think Avril’s committed and it would really give her a focus. A challenge. Apparently Poppy is interested in getting involved, too.”

“Wow. A family affair.” Sophia takes a seat at the end of the table and our legs intertwine.

“She’s got it in her head that the hotel would be a family legacy. Something positive to work on together, rather than something negative binding us together.”

Sophia nods but doesn’t offer an opinion.

“I think it’s a good idea,” I say.

“For them,” Sophia says. “Or for you? Is it what you want?”

“I want Avril and Poppy to be happy.”

“But beyond that, what do you want? You’re so good at caring for everyone else, it worries me that you don’t take time to figure out what you want.”

“Well, I’d like to beat Bennett in Hotel Games.”

“Hotel Games?” Sophia asks, frowning.

Have I never explained to her that the six of us all have hotels, which we use to compete against each other? “It’s like the Hunger Games, but nobody dies and all the competitors own luxury hotels.”

“So not at all like the Hunger Games,” Sophia says. “Whatever keeps a billionaire feeling alive, I guess.”

I chuckle. “That’s why we all have hotels. We compete against each other for whose property is the most successful. It was a way of keeping a connection between us after business school. The criteria gets more and more complicated, but somehow Bennett seems to win more often than not. Having a hotel in New York City rather than Boston would mean I could pay it more attention. It would give me a better chance at winning.”

Sophia’s gaze falls to my mouth, then the wineglass I’m holding, then back up to my eyes. “So your goals in life are to keep everyone else happy and beat Bennett at the Hotel Games?”

“That’s not all,” I say. “I’ve been thinking about this a lot. You’re right that I tend to prioritize the needs of the people I love before my own. When I was a kid, I did it because I knew it would keep my family together, and that’s what I wanted more than anything. Not to lose anything or anyone else after my dad died. Since then, I’ve built a successful career by helping other people achieve their dreams. And while you’re right—those dreams aren’t mine—my work isn’t just for them. It’s also for me. Say, for example, I’m a math teacher, or a dance teacher at a high school for the arts.”

She raises her eyebrows with a smile.

“It could happen.”

“If anyone could make it happen, it’s you,” she says. She’s being funny, but she wouldn’t say it if she didn’t believe it.

“Isn’t that the same thing? If I’m a teacher, aren’t I helping kids achieve their dreams and their potential? If I’m a nurse or a doctor, aren’t my achievements linked to positive outcomes for my patients?”

“Yeah,” she replies. “It’s a good point. But are you getting what you need by turning the Ninth Street building into a hotel?”

“Maybe,” I say. “Maybe like Avril said, I need a family legacy that isn’t about grief. Something positive to keep me close with my sisters.”

“If that’s really how you feel, Worth, that’s wonderful. You should do something to make yourself happy.”

Heat starts to bubble inside me. I’m on the verge of telling her everything I’ve been trying to hold back. Here she is, sitting in my home. My wife. I should tell her what I want. Because I’ve been pretending to myself that I don’t know but I do. “I can tell you what I want, beyond the hotel, beyond rewiring our family history.”

“I’d love to hear.”

I sit forward in my chair and take her hand. “I want you,” I say simply. “I want us to tear up those papers and never think about divorce. I want us to move in together. Happy to move wherever you want, because my priority is being with you, wherever that is. That doesn’t mean I’m sacrificing what I want to make you happy, it just means I want you and nothing else matters. I want to build a family together. A future. I’m all in. You’re what I want.”

She stills, but there’s no stopping me now.

“I think I have been going through life prioritizing other people. But I don’t think that was selfless. Stepping up after my dad died got me what I wanted—I kept my family together. Helping entrepreneurs and businesses made me a wealthy man. Money gives control and choices, and for a boy who had neither growing up, it’s really important to me.

“But you? I want you because I feel like you’ve awoken parts of me I didn’t know were asleep. I feel we’re each other’s destiny. Thinking about you makes me happy. Seeing you makes me fucking joyful. Being with you makes me truly happy. I’m in love with you, Sophia Jones, and I want you to stay my wife.”

What I want to happen next is for Sophia to slide into my lap, put her arms around my neck, and tell me she loves me too.

But that isn’t what happens next.

Her gaze drops from mine and hits the table. “That’s…” She pulls in a breath. “That’s not what I was expecting you to say.”

Silence stretches out between us, but I don’t let go of her hand.

“I mean it, Sophia. You said I should focus on what I want, and what I want is you. I want to share my life with you.”

Sophia pulls her hand from mine and rubs her face. “Worth,” she says. Seconds tick by like minutes. I feel paralyzed, rooted to the spot. “A huge part of me wants that too. In fact, sometimes that’s all I want.”

I want to feel hopeful as she speaks, but I don’t let myself, because I can hear the but echoing in her words.

“But I don’t trust that feeling,” she says eventually. “I don’t trust anything at the moment.”

I sigh. I can’t blame her. What she’s discovered about her dad would cause anyone to have massive trust issues.

“You’re such a good man,” she says. “You deserve a woman who can give you what you want.”

I feel the vibrations from the beat of kettle drums in my chest, like a warning of impending danger. I don’t care what I deserve—I know what I want.

“I told you I’ll wait, and I’m happy to. But you asked me what I wanted.”noveldrama

She looks over my shoulder at god-knows-what. Why doesn’t she just look at me?

Because she can’t.

Fuck.

“I don’t know how long I’ll feel like this, or if I’ll ever not feel like this,” she says, her gaze finally meeting mine.

“And I’ve said I’ll wait.”

“But you deserve your future, Worth. You deserve certainty.”

“We’ve been together weeks, Sophia. I’m not trying to force your hand. I’m not issuing any ultimatums. I’m doing the exact opposite. I’m telling you I’ll wait for as long as you need.”

She shakes her head. “That’s not fair. I want more for you.”

“More than you? You’re all I want.”

She presses the heels of her hands over her eyes. “This is going to get worse rather than better. I don’t know who I am if I’m not the daughter of a perfect couple from Cincinnati. I don’t know what that means for me. I have a nonexistent relationship with my father at the moment, and a tenuous one with my mother. I have shit to deal with. It’s shit that stinks. And stains.”

Before I can tell her that I can put up with it all, that I want to hold her hand through the whole thing, she continues.

“I have to do this myself. I know you’re going to say you’ll wait or help me through it…” She shakes her head. “But honestly, Worth, we’ve been together weeks, like you said, and if I’m going to commit the rest of my life to someone, I want to know that I’m with them because I want to build a life and a future. I want to feel sure that I want to create a family with them—all the things you said. And if I’m being honest with myself, at the moment, I’m worried I’d be with you because I was afraid to do this by myself.”

I sigh. She doesn’t have to do it by herself, doesn’t she see? Accepting support doesn’t make you weak—just gives you a soft place to land if you fall.

“I don’t want to be with you just because you’re great at helping people through difficult times.”

“That’s what partnership is,” I mutter. But it’s futile to argue—I can’t force her to stay when what she wants to do is leave.

“In the long run, you’re right. Partnership should mean helping each other through the lows and celebrating the highs. But we’re just starting out. I can’t offer you what you need at the moment.”

“So, that’s it?” I ask.

She stands. My legs are so weak, I’m not sure I’ll be able to get to my feet.

She eyes the papers on the table next to me. It’s like someone has stuck a knife into me and I’m waiting for my brain to receive the pain signals. My entire body goes numb. She pulls a pen from her purse and turns to the final page, where the signature blocks are located. “I can’t be with you when things are so undone. When my life is so… when I don’t know who I am. I’m sorry.”

She signs next to her name and pushes the pen back into her purse.

It feels like someone has ripped out my guts. I’ve lost any ability to move or speak.

I keep my gaze forward, not able to look her in the eye, concerned I’ll disintegrate if I do. What if I find indifference there? What if I find pity? I don’t think I’d recover.

“I’m going to go,” she whispers. “I’m really sorry, Worth.”

I don’t know if she says anything else, because I can’t hear it. Something inside me blocks the rest of the world out, Sophia included. Maybe it’s a survival instinct, or maybe this is what happens when you have your heart broken for the first time.