you one of these times and accept.”
Now there was a thought. One that brought more reservations than the party decision to back him.
Will’s eyes narrowed. “What would you do if she did?”
“I honestly don’t know.”
“Maybe you’d better figure that out before you pose the question again.”
It sounded so easy.
With a quick glance over his shoulder at the men and women milling behind them, Will asked, “Do you love her?”
“You know I do.”
“I know you’re attracted to her. That’s a far cry from loving her.”
“Give me a break, man. I’m forty-six, not fourteen. And it’s been two years. It’s more than just lust.”
“So could you picture yourself spending the rest of your life with her?”
Who knew answers to such questions?
“I can picture myself at sixty, when she’s forty-two. In my mind, Sophie is full of energy and beauty and bored with me.”
“You don’t trust her.”
“It’s more than that, Will. I love my time with her, crave more time with her. But when we’re together we’re alone. The rest of the world, and things like generations, don’t matter. Can you honestly picture her here tonight? Hell, these guys would think she’s my daughter. Or they’d look at her like she’s on the hunt for a sugar daddy.”
Will seemed to commiserate with his chuckle.
“You don’t hold too high an opinion of the moral composition of our peers.”
Duane took in the room, the casually dressed men and women, and saw them for what they were. Intelligent, confident, successful. Many of them would do whatever it took to get where they were going. Use who they could. Stab who they had to. Some were quick to judge each other, while justifying, at least to themselves, their own sometimes questionable actions—and would blame others if someone got hurt.
He didn’t want to join the crowd. He simply wanted to change the world.
“I don’t want to make Sophie look like a whore.” He and Will talked straight. Which was one of the reasons Duane valued the friendship so much.
“Marrying her won’t do that.”
Whereas visiting her warm and vibrant home, leaving his car parked outside all night, did.
“And that’s not really the problem, is it?” Will asked softly, moving them a little farther away from the others.
“You of all people know her past, Will.” In his official capacity, Will had been apprised of the troubles of one of Montford’s most promising scholarship students. The invitations she’d offered to too many guys—including one of her instructors. The eating disorder that had almost killed her.
“It bothers you.”
“How could it not?”
“So you don’t trust her.”
“I don’t know.” Downing his Scotch, Duane turned away from a love life he couldn’t control, and stepped back into the persona he’d grown comfortable with over the years. The intelligent, confident, successful attorney who’d worked his entire life for this chance to make a difference. And who really believed he could.
Make a difference, that was.
Chapter Two
“OKAY, SPILL IT.” The Chicago pub’s late-Saturday-night crowd was the perfect size to allow Annie and Sophie to have a real conversation in privacy. Unfortunately.
Sophie wasn’t into comfy and cozy conversation. She wasn’t a kid anymore.
They had just shared a juicy hamburger, three quarters of which Annie made Sophie eat. She’d refused to do anything but encourage and watch until she’d witnessed Sophie chew and swallow every bite.
“I haven’t had a hamburger in ages.”
“And it was good, wasn’t it?”
“Yeah.” But the weight she instantly felt on her hips wasn’t. Duane might not be so attracted to a hippopotamus.
“So if it’s been ages since you’ve had a burger, does that mean there’s been no bingeing?”
Scared at the recurrence of an illness she’d struggled so hard to beat, yet still falling prey to its symptoms, to feeling guilty for having consumed so much fat, Sophie shook her head. “None. I told you, I didn’t see any obvious signs.”
“So you haven’t been restricting your diet?”
Translation: not eating.
“I’ve been busy.”
“So you have been missing meals.”
“Some.” Theater work, making everything perfect in the two-day or two-week span allotted to them per show, wrought more tasks than hours in a day. And she could get twice as much accomplished during meal breaks, when the stage was empty.
Annie’s disappointed look didn’t weigh as heavily as the beef Sophie had consumed, confirming her fears that she’d fallen back to a day she’d promised herself she’d never see again.
She was feeling bad about herself for eating. And eating was necessary to sustain life.
“How many?” Annie’s question wasn’t a surprise.
Sophie glanced up, once again facing the truth of her weakness. “Too many,” she admitted as she thought back over the past weeks. She’d been careful not to eat. Hadn’t had a real meal since she’d arrived in Chicago. “I feel good, emotionally, when I don’t eat. Like I’m doing myself a great favor, you know? I’m strong enough to beat base appetites. I’m in control—”
She sounded like the pamphlets and books she’d read.
But she wasn’t speaking from them. Not eating truly gave her a sense of strength. Of control. Of power.
“There’s been no weight fluctuation outside of a fivepound range,” she offered softly. She’d been watching—weighing herself in the hotel workout facility. She cared.
And was determined to remain in control.
Of course, weighing yourself all the time was a symptom, too.
“What’s got you so down this time, Soph? You have a home you love, in a town you love and are incredibly successful in a career you love—” Annie broke off, eyeing her steadily. “It’s a man, isn’t it?”
Duane’s face came clearly into view, transposed upon Annie’s sweet, concerned features. “Maybe.”
“So is there someone serious? You haven’t mentioned anyone in years, other than that Duane guy who helped you with your LLC articles of incorporation. You said you two were just friends.”
Sophie had forgotten she’d told Annie anything about Duane.
And Annie had it right. She and Duane were just friends. All they ever could be. Friends who happened to sleep together. Several nights a week. But that was their business.
“No, there’s no one serious.” Serious meant a future. It meant a life together. And that definitely was not what she had with Duane.
Annie’s face, naked as it always was when not caked with stage makeup, struck a familiar chord—reminding Sophie of a day when she’d poured out her heart.
She’d been such a pathetically weak little thing back then. It hurt to even think of that girl. Hurt more to think of the things she’d done.
“What’s wrong then?”