Wrong (13 page)

"
S
o what did he want
?" Luke asks me later that afternoon.

"What did he want?" I repeat, slightly annoyed.

"Yes, Sophie. What did he want?" Luke's voice is clipped. "You wait until today to mention that a man has been hanging out in your coffee shop for over a month watching you work, then today announces that he's your long-lost brother. Why? What does he want?"

"I don't know," I say quietly. I'm lying down on my dorm bed staring at the ceiling and talking to Luke on the phone. "But I have a brother." I breathe into the phone for a moment before continuing. "You have Meredith, Luke. And Alexander and Bella. I've always wanted a sibling, or even a cousin. It would be nice to have someone else in the world besides my grandparents.”

"How do you know he's telling you the truth, Sophie?" Luke says. I can hear the hospital buzzing in the background. I know he's busy but he insisted on talking to me after I texted him this bombshell.

"We share the same father," I say, my voice wobbling. "His father”—I pause—“our father, was a US Congressman running for a Senate seat when he met my mother. He was twenty years older than her, and married to Boyd’s mother.” I’m humiliated recapping this to Luke.

“Go on,” Luke encourages.

“My birth certificate lists my father as unknown. My grandparents had no idea who he could have been and my mom refused to name him. She died before I was two, so I never had the chance to ask her myself. She volunteered for Congressman Gallagher’s Senate campaign the summer before her freshman year of college.”

"Sophie, whatever your parents did twenty years ago has nothing to do with you and the person you are today."

"I guess."

"I know," he counters.

"He had a picture."

"What kind of picture?" Luke asks, with an edge to his voice. I can hear hospital alarms beeping in the background, but Luke doesn't rush me, just waits for my response.

"It was a picture of our dad with my mom. It’s the night he was elected Senator, at the campaign headquarters. They’re in a room full of people and she’s looking at him like she worships him while he’s smiling for the camera.” I swallow and Luke is quiet, listening. "Boyd was ten when I was born. He doesn’t think his mom had any idea about the affair.”

We're both quiet. Silence on my end of the phone, the buzz of the hospital on Luke's end.

"I was born during my mom’s freshman year of college.” Straight A’s and she ended up transferring back to a local college. Because of me. “She died in a car accident sometime during her sophomore year of college.” I take a breath. “But until she died, she was receiving monthly payments from Senator Gallagher.”

"Wow,” Luke says, his voice gentle. I know that voice. It's the
I feel sorry for you
voice. I've heard it my whole life. I hear a door close and it's suddenly quieter on Luke's end of the phone.

“Boyd works for the government. Apparently I came up during a background check. He’d never heard a word about me until then.”

"Sophie, I…" He trails off.

He what? Feels sorry for me? Is appalled? Needs to cancel all future plans with me?

"I have to go, Sophie. I'll call you as soon as I can." The line goes dead.

I can't process anything right now. I'm… no one. I have a half-brother.

I already called my grandparents in Florida. They had no idea I had a sibling. I look at the silent phone in my hand and scroll through the contacts and make a call.

A short time later I'm walking into Shay's, a bar I've never been to before, located off campus. It's early when I walk in, quiet. Boyd is sitting in a booth and waves me over as soon as he sees me.

"Sophie," he says with a warm smile. He looks relieved to see me, like he was afraid I wasn't going to show up.

"Hey," I reply and take a seat. We stare at each other, neither of us knowing what to say, so I say the only thing possible. “I need a drink.”

Boyd grins and signals to the waitress. "Thanks for calling, Sophie. I wasn't sure you would."

"I wasn’t sure I would either.”

He shrugs and gives me a sad smile. "Yeah." We're quiet then.

The waitress returns with our drinks and Boyd immediately orders shots for both of us. "You look like you need one," he says.

"Yeah," I whisper. “Tell me about him.” Senator Gallagher died in his third term of office. I would have been about sixteen.

Boyd fills me in on things about our father I wouldn’t be able to learn from the internet. He loved pineapple and hated chocolate. He made it a habit never to swear. He taught Boyd how to fish. I filled him in on my childhood with my grandparents. From what Boyd tells me he grew up very differently than I did. His upbringing sounds like what I imagined Luke’s to be. Very privileged and formal.

The drinks keep arriving and I keep downing them, numbing my emotions. "I think I'm in love with Luke," I slur a short while later. "See?" I pull out my phone and find a picture of Luke and I, a selfie I took of us lying on his couch the weekend after Thanksgiving when we were watching
Elf
. I hold it up for Boyd to look at.

"That's great, Sophie. I'm happy for you," Boyd says quietly.

"He's a doctor." I hiccup. "And I'm classy." I laugh at my own joke. I'm funny. "Oh, shit, he's been calling," I say, looking at my phone. "We've been here a while."

"I'm sure he doesn't expect you to answer the second he calls," Boyd says reassuringly. "But maybe it's time to get a cab?"

"Probably," I agree, and then I rest my head on the table.

I
awake
to a pounding headache and too much light. I close my eyes again. I'm going to throw up.
Focus. Reach over and grab your trash can. Do not throw up on your bed, Sophie
.

I open my eyes slowly.

I have no idea where I am. Holy shit, I have never been this irresponsible in my life. The last twenty-four hours flash in front of me. The coffee shop, Boyd, Luke, Shay's Bar. I don't remember anything past Shay's. I need to call Luke back. Tears prick my eyes as I recall how good he's been to me, and I repaid him by ignoring his calls while I sat in a bar getting drunk with Boyd. I'm horrible.

"Hey, you're up." It's Boyd. I'm at Boyd's.

"Bathroom!" I blurt out, and Boyd points to a bathroom en-suite.

I stumble out of the bed and and make it to the bathroom just in time to throw up in the toilet. I sink to the bathroom floor and wipe my mouth. I feel like crap, I have vomit in my hair and I blew off Luke. I'm in a stranger's apartment. My brother's, sure, but he's still a stranger.

I stand up and examine myself in the mirror. I look awful. Being irresponsible does not look good on me. I close the toilet lid and sit before realizing my cell phone is in my pocket. Yes! 6:44 AM Friday morning. Eleven missed calls from Luke, Jean and Everly. Six voicemails. Thirty-four text messages.

I press the button to return Luke's call.

He answers on the first half ring. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," I respond. "I'm—"

He cuts me off. "Where are you?"

He's so mad. I don't think my answer is going to help things. "I'm at Boyd's."

The silence is deafening.

"Where is Boyd's?"

"I'm sorry, Luke, I didn't mean to ignore your calls."

"Where. Is. Boyd's?"

"I don't know. I don't know where I am."

Silence.

"You're okay?" he asks again.

"Yes." I sigh. "I threw up but I'm fine. I'm in the bathroom."

"Jesus, Sophie, are you really this young?"

No,
I want to say.
No.
I'm so mortified. It was stupid to get drunk with someone I don't know. I put my safety in the hands of a stranger. A drunk stranger. I'm lucky the only thing that happened to me was passing out and waking up with a hangover. What if Boyd had passed out too? I could have ended up anywhere. Stupid.

So I say nothing.

"Open the map app on your phone and tell me what street you're on."

I pull the phone away from my ear and do as I'm instructed. "I'm on South Street, somewhere between 13th and 15th."

"I'll be there in five minutes. Get the exact address from Boyd and text me."

The line goes dead. He hung up on me. I stand and look at my shitty reflection in the mirror again and use my hand to cup water from the faucet to rinse my mouth out.

I exit the bedroom and realize I'm in a large loft. A loft I have no recollection of seeing last night.

"My boyfriend is coming to pick me up."

"Luke," Boyd states.

"Uh, yeah. Was I talking about him last night?"

"Just a little." He laughs.

"I'm sorry you had to take care of me."

Boyd scoffs. "It was no problem."

"I need to text Luke your address." I wave my phone. "I can't believe I don't know where I'm at. So stupid."

"You're in college. You're entitled to a little fun."

I think our idea of fun is different, but I keep that to myself as I text Luke the address. "Have you lived here a long time?" I ask, looking around. There's not much in the way of personal items. It’s a beautiful loft. Big, with views of the city.

He shrugs. "Less than a year." He tells me about the area while I wait for Luke. I realize we’re less than a mile from Luke’s place in Rittenhouse Square.

There's a knock on the door and I grab my coat and purse as Boyd opens the door.

I chance a glance at Luke. He looks exhausted. Boyd is speaking to him but Luke ignores him, his focus entirely on me.

"Wait in the car."

I say a quick goodbye to Boyd and get out of there as fast as I can. The mood between Luke and I is so off and I do not want to argue with him in front of Boyd.

I reach Luke's car and place my hands on the passenger side roof, breathing in and out. I've made it through three and a half years of college without ever being this hungover. I will quite simply die if I vomit in Luke's luxury car.

I close my eyes and concentrate on breathing, waiting for the nausea to settle while wondering how my mother has managed to mess up my life nineteen years after leaving it. No, this isn't on her. It's on me. I'm the same person I was yesterday. Learning the name of the missing person on my birth certificate doesn't give me the right to throw away the life I've made for myself.

A hand comes to rest on my back. "You okay?"

I nod and Luke opens the passenger door and gets me settled before circling the car and getting behind the wheel. We drive in silence down Broad Street. It's just past 7:00 AM and traffic is picking up. The speeding up and slowing down are making me feel worse and I'm focused on not vomiting, so I don't immediately notice that Luke is taking me back to his Rittenhouse Square condo and not my dorm.

"I have class today," I protest as he pulls into the parking garage.

"Hopefully someone takes notes for you," Luke replies and pulls into his assigned parking space.

I open my mouth to argue, but I have to throw up again. I open the car door and make it to the trash can next to the elevator without a second to spare. Luke is there a moment later, hand on my back. The elevator opens and I assume he's pushed the button to call for it, but I realize it's someone exiting the elevator as Luke says, "Good morning, Mrs. Hudson." She replies and heels click away from us before I look up.

I am beyond humiliated. "I'm sorry," I say as Luke leads me into the empty elevator and pushes the button for the penthouse.

"For?"

"Everything. Specifically for looking like a drunk whore in front of your fancy neighbors."

"You don't look like a whore. Not one I'd bring home anyway."

I look at him and I know I have tears in my eyes about to fall but I'm trying to fight them.

"Hey, hey." He crosses the space between us in the elevator and wipes them away with his thumbs. "I'm kidding."

"Don't." I pull away and back up. "I smell disgusting."

He pulls me into him anyway and kisses the top of my head. "You do," he agrees. "But I don't care."

We take a shower together, but Luke does all the work, insisting on washing my hair and scrubbing me from head to toe. When we're done he hands me a toothbrush already loaded with a swipe of toothpaste and then returns with a glass of orange juice and two Advil before he tucks me under his covers, buck naked.

I think he's going to join me in bed but when I look up he's buttoning a crisp gray shirt. "You're going to work?" I try to keep the whine out of my voice.

"Yes, those of us not hungover have jobs to do." He loops a blue tie around his neck and begins twisting it into a perfect knot.

"Fine, leave me here and go to work. I'm sure you have an appointment calendar full of women waiting for you to knock them up." I guess I'm done trying to keep the whining to myself.

Luke just smirks. "Thank you for reminding me," he says as he opens the drawer beside the bed and riffles around. "I need to pick up condoms today."

"Why?" I'm instantly on alert. We haven't used condoms since Thanksgiving. Does he not trust me anymore after I blacked out last night?

"How many times have you thrown up today"—he pauses—"so far?"

"Three."

"Did you take your pill this morning?"

"Yes." I see where he's going with this. "That I've already thrown back up." I fluff the pillow and turn on my side, watching him. "You're perfect for me."

"Why is that?" He shrugs into his suit coat. "Is it the way my cock is just a little too big to fit into your tight pussy and I have to stretch you out every time we fuck?"

Even though I’m hungover, the blood rushes to my pussy and I squirm under the sheets and press my thighs tighter together.

"Sophie?"

"Huh, what?" I'm so focused on not sticking my hand under the covers to rub myself while he's still in the room I've missed what he was saying.

"Why am I perfect for you?" He leans over the bed and kisses my forehead before rising and sliding a watch over his wrist. He smiles at me as his gaze drops to the place where my legs meet under the covers. He knows exactly what distracted me.

"You're the only one more paranoid than I am about an unplanned pregnancy."

He pauses then for the briefest second and gnaws at his bottom lip. "Mrs. Gieger is coming today, so put some clothes on if you get out of bed. I've already informed her to skip the bedroom if you're still sleeping."

"I don't have any clothes here."

"You don't need clothes to sleep off your hangover and masturbate."

"Luke!" I hide my face behind my hands, which is apparently funny because he laughs.

"I've seen every last inch of you, Sophie. I've had your legs spread in stirrups with my hand in your pussy and you're embarrassed that I know damn well you're dying for me to leave so you can slide your hand under the covers and rub your clit until you come?"

"Yes," I mumble, face still behind my hands.

"Okay," Luke replies. "Do you want me to bring home a few supplies from the hospital so we can play kinky doctor tonight?"

Damn him. "Uh-huh," I mutter, still not looking at him.

"Use your words, Sophie, I need to hear you say it."

"Yes!" I sit up with the sheet clutched to my chest. "Yes, I want that." I throw a pillow at him. "Now go away."

Luke is laughing at me again as he turns to exit the bedroom.

"Wait."

He stops and turns back, halfway to the door. He raises an eyebrow in question.

"You're not mad?"

His jaw clenches. "I'm furious."

"Oh."

"But we're okay, Sophie. As long as you're safe and I know where you are, we're okay."

I nod.

"I'd like to turn you over my knee and spank the shit out of you, and before you get excited, I don't mean that erotically."

"I'm sorry," I whisper.

"I know," he replies.

M
rs. Gieger has washed
and dried my clothing and I'm sitting in Luke's den when I hear him enter the condo that evening. He's hanging his coat in the front closet when I reach him. There's a black medical bag at his feet. I stop short and stare at it, my pussy clenching involuntarily. Clearing my throat, I ask Luke how his day was.

"Great," he responds. "Are you feeling better?"

"Much," I agree. My eyes dart to the bag.

Luke ignores the bag and steps around it to embrace me. "Should we go out to dinner?"

Dammit, no. "We could order pizza?" I suggest.

"No, we should go out."

Er. "How about Serafina?" We won't even need coats and we could be back in an hour if there's no wait.

"Hmm." Luke strokes my back, winding his fingers in my hair. "I was thinking Lombardi's. It's your favorite."

"That's forty-five minutes away!" I blurt out.

Luke steps back and frowns. "You've been cooped up inside all day, I thought you'd enjoy a drive and dinner out."

I am a horrible slut. All I can think about is what's in that bag and what Luke might do to me with it. I steal one last look at the bag and place a smile on my face. "You're right, that sounds nice."

Luke pauses, silently staring at me before one side of his mouth gives him away. "You don't want to go anywhere, you shameless hussy. You're practically gagging for me to pick up my little black bag and drag you by the hair into the bedroom."

I swallow. That's all true.

"Go to my office," he says instead.

Turns out his desk is a nice height for an impromptu exam table.