Chapter 22

After he’s out I lock it behind us and post the spare key in the box. Amber isn’t home and knows I’m leaving. I texted her some short and rapid thanks this morning and was met with indifference. Amber has never really spent much time with me, and rarely uses her own apartment herself, so it’s not like it’s a great loss of a friendship. Leaving this city is sadly not a loss in any way, in terms of friends, happy memories or any real life.

“Sometimes you’re bossier than Jake.” I smile at the mention of one of my favorite Carreros; although to be fair, there isn’t a single Carrero that I do not adore, as they are all pretty epic. Being back in The Hamptons means I get to see Emma and Jake again, and little Mia and Lucah, Arrick’s parents too. Might even be around to see Emma give birth to that growing bump she was developing before I left home a few months ago, and that can never be a bad thing.

I’ve missed all of them, too stubborn to think about going home to visit while in that mode of wild and reckless sorrow drowning. I haven’t wanted to see any of them, for deep down I’m ashamed of how I was living and throwing it back in the faces of the people who saved me from a vastly different life. I know I’ve behaved like an immature selfish brat, and none of them deserves the anguish and worry I have caused them. I really feel like I have started to grow up finally, as I evaluate all of this.

I’m feeling better today, sober, and more straightened out, despite my suffering. My heart less heavy after the long hours with my favorite beau, his wisdom, and cute smiles. Arrick always has a way of making me see sense, grounding me and keeping me sane when I’m free-falling. Life makes sense when he’s around to influence me, and I can never resist that squared jaw sexiness he oozes effortlessly. The ultimate poster boy for teen heart magazines right here.

“Jake and I share DNA, so that’s hardly a shock. Besides, you love Jake to death, so it’s hardly a put down either.” We work our way into the hall and towards the bank of shiny modern elevators. I hit the button for this floor and wait patiently. I lucked out when Amber insisted I move in with her. Having rich friends has its perks, even with my own bank account hardly on the light side. One thing the Huntsbergers made sure of was that I was always able to feed myself and afford somewhere to live. Even if I have been estranged for almost three months and shaming my family no end; they never cut me off.

“I love you more.” I state seriously, devoid of my usual sparkling wit, and turn away from his instant warm smile, towards the chrome doors of the elevator. I have told Arrick a million times that I love him in the last six years, but somehow, this morning, it feels awkward suddenly, maybe because I’m emotional and insecure as we prepare to go home again. Maybe because this past year we have grown apart, become distant, and this is all new again in the last twenty-four hours. It just doesn’t come out as breezily as it always does, and the sudden pang in my chest is completely new and unnerving.

“I still love you, Sophs, you know that right? I know we kid around and make fun of each other … But I do love you.” Arrick’s gaze is steady on my face, watching me closely as the doors ping open, much to my relief. I shrug as a way of an answer, throat closing with raw emotions moving up inside of me and that heavy ache deep down, threatening to make me cry. He follows me into the spotless marble interior, placing the bags down around his feet as he tugs me closer by the wrist, so I’m beside him. I keep my eyes forward, trying like crazy to keep all that silly little girl emotion that comes on like a tidal wave inside, leaving me so suddenly serene and unsure.

“Hey?” He shoulder bumps me affectionately, picking up on my weird signals and sudden somber mood, pushing me for a real answer to his question and not letting up. I keep my eyes fixated on the doors and just smile softly. My heart aching a tad more with his attention and the stupid warmth that has come over me, making me goosebump.

“I guess.” I shrug again and smile wider; feelings being smoothed out when he slides an arm around my shoulders snugly. We fit; we always did.

“Less of the guess … I love you, Sophie! You’re always going to be special to me, no matter what happens or who we end up marrying. You’re my girl; still that scrawny kid in beat up sneakers that you refused to give up, the one I taught to ride a bike. Still that same skinny tomboy who hit a home run the first time I let you play baseball with us and knocked it out of the park. Nothing changes any of that. Mio Mimmo.” He kisses me on the temple, holding me against him for a moment and sighing into my hair. I can’t help the wash of tingles or the stupid grin that encompasses my face.

“You would think I would have graduated to Bambina by now? Mimmo still means I’m a child!” I throw him that pointed scowl, unimpressed with his childish pet name for me, despite the smile. The fact he is pretty much addressing me as child, or the cute version of baby. Even sweet words and gooey feelings can’t dampen how much it annoys me to still be addressed that way by him, a reminder that he is five years older.

“Can’t ever graduate from that, besides, Bambina is something Jake says to Emma. I know you’re hot for me, Sophs, but we’re sticking with Mimmo until you’re like eighty.” He shoves into me playfully, smiling down from his taller height, and I eye roll at him, my own smile dropping to a sarcastic squint.

“Hot for you? Really? I’d like to say you were my first crush, but I think maybe Jake beat you to that for like five minutes, so you can’t even get that title.” I grin his way mischievously, giggling childishly as he grips his chest in a mock pain response.

“What? Sophie? Don’t tell me you had the hots for Jake … I mean, the dude is my brother and way too old for you. I’m like totally heartbroken here! I always thought it was you and me forever, kid!” Arrick grins, lets me go when the doors slide open and picks up all the bags effortlessly, laughing at the familiar argument of years gone by.

I have always teased him about being hot for Jake as a prepubescent teen, always joked I had then seen the error of my ways and fallen madly in lust with Arrick when I met him. Not that any of it is true, and he knows that as well as I do. It was just some stupid game we played, another way to tease each other mercilessly, another tick to our barrage of ‘in’ jokes.

Arrick doesn’t need to know that I did, in fact, have the worst kind of teen crush on him when I first got to know him years ago, and that Jake never even got a look in. To me, Jake has always been Emma’s. From the minute I met them, I’d seen how they were made for each another, crazy in love and both afraid to see it. Despite how hot most of the Carrero men in his family seem to be, Arrick was the one who to give me butterflies. Then he became my best friend and the butterflies developed into something else, something different. He became my dependency.

“Sorry, dude, but you know black hair and green eyes are a hot combo.” I wink as I hold the main door open for him, offering to take one of the bags, but he just shakes his head at my hand. Arrick was brought up in a very old-fashioned Italian way. Chivalrous and traditional, he holds doors and seats for women, he carries all the bags, and he likes to pay for his dates. Even when I hang out with him, despite my family being equally loaded, Arrick always pays my way. I sigh at it, but deep down I have always thought it was really cute, the chivalrous old-fashioned level to my modern man.

“Screw you. I’ll stick with my brown eyes and weird colored hair.” Arrick frowns in mock huffiness, little boy sulking, and I giggle at the furrowed brows and pouted look. Watching the way that mature face changes to little boy lost, with wounded eyes and far too appealing dimples that seem to get bizarrely noticeable like this.

“Your eyes are hazel with green flecks, and your hair is what I would call sandy, not blonde and not brown. I like it. Would it make you feel better if I said I was partial to your more authentic Italian looks, Bambino?” I giggle. Trying to soothe that ego of his, smiling at him hopelessly.

“Maybe. Or you could, you know, list all the manly and sexy things about me you prefer over Jake! Soothe my wounded heart.” That wicked gleam is followed by a grin and I know he is about to get me back for this. I can almost sense his mind ticking over another way in which he can torture Sophie. I swear he gets a kick out of it.

“Ooh, tough list. I’m not sure there are many things I could …” I squeal as Arrick dumps the bags on the sidewalk and jumps at me with intent. I swing myself out of his grasp and duck the hands that try to catch me. He’s faster and has more stealth. He manages to catch the hem of the hoody and hauls me in, catching me in a headlock under his arm and against his rib cage far too easily, so I’m held tight and unable to get out, or upright, and rubs the top of my hair roughly so it burns. I squeal and fight back, but it only brings on a bout of chuckles as his grip tightens.