Leila let them in and went ahead, switching on lights and pulling back drapes. Jon waited for Sofia who was, it now seemed obvious, deliberately trailing behind.
“It’s been a couple of hours,” he said. “Missed me?”
“For the record,” she said, stepping up to him, “I didn’t know she was meeting you.”
“For the record, I know you’re not too upset about it.” He was over the moon about it. He’d thought she’d slipped away, and had considered asking his firm for the name of the event-planning business that had thrown his welcome party. Which reminded him of something. “Since when are you a real-estate event planner?”
“Since always!” she snapped.
“Come in, guys,” Leila said. “Feel free to look around, ask questions.”
Most Miami houses looked the same to Jon. A large main room generally opened to some kind of back patio. This one had clean uncluttered lines, and it was kind of sexy. The floors were the color of porcelain. A glass spiral staircase led to the second floor. What struck him was the wall of windows, two stories high, which framed the yard and pool. Midnight swim, anyone?
Sofia walked past him. “Does it come fully furnished?”
Jon gave the living room furniture a second look. The chocolate leather couch looked delicious. A glass coffee table caught the light of the starburst chandelier hanging above it.
“Look who’s suddenly interested in furniture!” Leila observed.
“Just curious,” Sofia said.
“The furniture is not included.” Leila explained the house was staged for effect.
Then she led them into the kitchen. The narrow space was made bright with pale wood cabinets and strategically placed recessed lighting. Leila pointed out the golden Italian marble counter. “This definitely comes with the house.”
“Gorgeous,” Jon said. He watched Sofia run a hand over the glossy countertop. The woman was gorgeous.
“You have a good eye,” Leila said. “Most men don’t.”
“Can’t take my eyes off it.”
Sofia glanced over her shoulder at him and quickly turned away. Her cheeks had that rich wine color he liked so much.
“This is where you’ll make breakfast for your women friends,” Sofia said innocently. “Since this is meant to be a bachelor pad and all.”
“I’ve got a Keurig,” he replied. “They’ll get coffee. Or tea.”
“Coffee or tea? Wow!” Sofia exclaimed. “You must sweep them off their feet.”
“I do all right.”
“Let’s check out the yard,” Leila said. “It’s killer.”
The kitchen opened to the yard with a framed glass door. It seemed to Jon the entire rear facade of the house was glass, a smoky glass that revealed nothing. The yard was modern day tropical. There were some grass and palm trees along the property wall, but mostly a slate-gray tile extended right up to the edge of a long rectangular pool. A “negative edge” pool, as Leila described it. Jon watched Sofia walk over to a canopy daybed and pull back the gauzy white cotton curtains. When drawn tight, he imagined they offered complete seclusion.
Sofia sank into the soft mattress. “Is this included?”
“None of it!” Leila snapped. “None of it is included.”
Sofia raised her hands. “Okay! Okay!”
Jon liked their chemistry, or lack thereof. They clearly had a bond that could take a blow or two.
“I’m thinking about a sunset affair,” Sofia said. “For the open house, I mean. Sangria at sunset.”
“Now you’re talking,” Leila said.
“Can I come?” Jon asked.
Leila’s phone rang. Before answering, she said, “Buy this house and you could invite us over for sangrias.”
Leila wandered off with the phone glued to her ear. Jon joined Sofia at the daybed. He wanted her opinion on the place. Did she like it? Did she swim? Would she come over for brunch? Would she stay the night?
He asked none of those questions, taken aback by her serious expression.
“Isn’t this too much house for you?” she asked.
“For me alone, maybe,” he said. “Don’t you like it?”
“I’m not the one you should ask that question.”
“Oh, yes. I forgot,” he said. “You’re off-the-market.”
She got up, crossed the yard to the pool. She stood at the water’s edge, looking down. He joined her there and said the one true thing he could think of.
“I missed you after you were gone.”
This time, in her haste to escape him, she nearly fell into the pool. Jon caught her just before she went plunging into the deep end. She clung to him, her hands gripping his shoulders. He could feel her heart.
“I got you,” he whispered.
She nodded, as though accepting this as fact.
Leila came skipping back. “That was Nick. He’s on his way over. How about we check out the bedrooms? The master suite is sexy.”
Two in the morning and Sofia was smarting over the fact that Jon hadn’t remembered her right away. She got out of bed, went into the kitchen and poured herself a glass of water. It had taken him half the day to figure out when and where they’d met. Meanwhile, it had taken her only a few seconds. Her life had changed so drastically since their first meeting, it would have been understandable if she’d forgotten all about him. And yet, she hadn’t.
Sofia went back to bed. She crawled onto the wobbly air mattress in her brother’s spare bedroom—the very symbol of how much her life had changed. After she’d caught her fiancé sexting with some faceless girl, then finding out that the faceless girl was only one in many, she’d had to move out of their condo in Aventura and in with her older brother, Miguel, who was still in a post-divorce funk.
Although months had passed, Sofia still had nausea when she thought about the night her life had fallen apart, which was often. She’d returned home after a late meeting with a client. The lights of their condo had been dimmed, bringing the sparkling water and city views into focus. The TV was on mute and a welcoming silence flowed through the rooms. She heard Franco moving around in the guest bathroom.
Exhausted, she’d stepped out of her heels, waddled over to the couch and curled up with her favorite throw pillow. The TV remote was on the far side of the coffee table next to Franco’s keys, wallet and phone. She’d stared at the remote, willing it to fly into her hands. When Franco’s phone started buzzing and chiming, her eyes had been too dry from her failed attempt at mind control to focus on the nude pic that had popped up in a chain of text messages, small as a postage stamp. Nonetheless, she’d seen it.
The bathroom door swung open. Franco came out, chuckling to himself and murmuring in that sexy way that used to make her hot. “Someone is impatient.” He came trotting into the living room, still dressed for work in a striped shirt and a pair of black trousers. She thought of a zillion things to say, but her jaw was clenched tight and the words jammed in her throat.
Franco