Chapter 2: The Grey Eyes

Sophia’s POV

The moment I booked the flight, I only had one question sitting in my mind. Was this a mistake?

Ever since I landed and gave the driver my mother's address, I couldn't control the uneasiness I felt under my skin. Heading back home might be the moment a lot of people have been dreaming for, but not for me.

Because it didn't feel like home anymore.

Not since the wedding.

I didn't even attend the freaking wedding because I wasn't ready to meet my stepfather.

I exhaled slowly, closing my eyes for a brief moment as I wondered if I had truly made a mistake. But coming here was way better than remaining where my memories with Jean would continuously haunt me.

“Miss, we’re here.” The driver’s voice pulled me out of my thoughts. I blinked, straightening slightly as I looked up.

The house stood exactly where it always had. I didn't change one bit, and the fact that something still felt familiar about this place warmed my heart a bit.

“Thank you,” I murmured, pushing the door open. I pulled my suitcase out after me and moved in.

My gaze flickered toward the driveway and I almost laughed. She wasn't home as always. I didn’t know why I expected anything different. For a woman like my mom, work always came before family.

I adjusted my grip on my suitcase and stepped up to the door, pressing the buzzer. For a second, nothing happened, then I heard some footsteps coming closer.

Something in my chest tightened as I suddenly became aware of the way I looked. I pressed my lips together, and the second the door opened, I forgot how to breathe.

He wasn’t what I expected.

Not even close.

My lips parted open as my brain tried to place what I was seeing into something that made sense. Was this really my stepfather? He looked young. Not young exactly, but he was younger than the image I'd built in my head.

His dark hair was slightly tousled like he'd run a hand through it too many times, and his strong build filled the doorway without even trying. His eyes. God, his grey eyes..they were warm in a way that caught me completely off guard.

He looked at me like he was actually seeing me, not the way my mom stared like I didn't really matter.

“You must be Sophia.” He gave me a half smile, his voice low and steady. He had a look in his eyes that explained that he had caught me staring, and heat flooded my face instantly.

“Oh,” I blinked quickly, forcing myself to move.

“Uh…yes.”

Nervous as hell, I tucked a few strands of my hair behind my ear. “I’m sorry, I didn’t—my mom, she didn’t say if—” I cringed inwardly at how silly I sounded.

“She once mentioned you might come by,” he said, stepping aside. “Come in.”

My heart started beating a little too fast as I reached for my suitcase.

“That must be heavy,” he added, nodding toward my bag. “I can help with that.”

“No, no, no…” I rushed out quickly. “I can handle this myself.”

He stared at me for a moment, gave me a curt nod, then stepped away. I pulled my suitcase further into the house and shut the door behind me. A lot hadn't changed in the house too, but it wasn't the same place I remembered.

It was…different.

“Well,” he said after a moment, his voice pulling my attention back to him, “I was just about to make dinner.”

Dinner? That caught me off guard.

“Oh.” I blinked. “Someone like you can…cook?”

It slipped out before I could stop it, and I almost felt like spanking myself.

His brow lifted slightly. “Sometimes.”

Heat crept up my neck. “I didn’t mean it like that.” I muttered softly, rubbing the back of my neck as I wished for the ground to swallow me. I almost couldn't control the words flying out of my mouth these days.

“I know exactly what you meant,” he cut in easily, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “You don’t have to defend yourself every five seconds.”

I pressed my lips together. “I’m not defending myself.”

“You are,” he said, already turning toward the kitchen like he’d decided that was the end of it, and it made me relax a bit. Keeping my suitcase near the foot of the stairs, I followed him into the kitchen.

He moved around it like he belonged there, and I hovered near the counter, unsure of where to stand or what to even do with my hands.

“You can sit,” he said, glancing over his shoulder as he reached for something in the fridge. “You don’t have to just stand there.”

“Right.” I let out a small breath and slid onto one of the stools by the island, setting my hands on my lap as I watched him move.

He rolled his sleeves, pushing them up his forearms as he started to mix something in a bowl. I couldn't even tell what it was, but it smelled like ginger and something else I'd certainly die for. It smelled so good, my stomach started grumbling. And it was loud.

He looked over his shoulder again, and this time, I looked down to stare at my shoes. Sophia, this isn't you. This wasn't the first impression I had planned to give my stepfather.

“You don’t have to look so nervous,” he said suddenly.

My head snapped up. “I’m not nervous.”

His lips twitched like he didn’t believe me. I exhaled, glancing down at my hands. My fingers were curled tightly together without me realizing, then I forced them to relax. “It’s just…” I trailed off, then shook my head. “This is a little weird.”

“Fair enough,” he said simply, and that made me look at him again. “You’ve never met me,” he added, glancing up briefly before returning his attention to what he was chopping. “And now you’re back in a house you've not been in for a while.”

Something in my chest shifted slightly. “Yeah,” I said quietly. “What about you?” I asked after a moment. “Is this weird for you?”

He paused for a second, then he nodded. “A little,” he admitted, and that surprised me.

I tilted my head slightly. “Really?”

“Yeah.” He glanced at me again, something thoughtful in his expression. “I feel like I’m meeting someone I’ve heard a lot about… but never actually met.”

I frowned slightly. “My mom talked about me?”

That came as a bit of a surprise for me. My mom barely has time for me. If she wasn't busy at her company, she was having dinner with a business man. Most times she just didn't like reaching out. It was just once in a while, and I was slowly getting used to the empty void.

“Yeah, she did,” he said, and I couldn't help the smile on my face.

“Did she say good things?” I asked, trying to sound casual.

“She said you were stubborn.”

I let out a small laugh. “That sounds like her.”

“And talented.”

That one hit differently. I blinked, glancing back up at him, but he was too focused on what he was doing. I pressed my lips together.

“Thanks,” I said quietly, and he simply nodded.

I'd just met this man some minutes ago, but his presence wasn't as uncomfortable as I assumed it would be.

~~~

My mom arrived during dinner. Marcus and I had already set the table before she arrived, so all she had to do was sit and eat. She munched on the meal carefully, then finally raised her head to stare at me. “I didn’t know you were coming today. You should have called.”

Something inside me twisted.

I should have called to come home? Does she even care about my wellbeing at all? I lifted a bite to my mouth, chewing slowly before answering. “Would calling have made any difference?”

Her voice was cold. “Yes.

“You're being ridiculous.” I laughed. “I didn't know I had to take permission to return home now.”

“I’m being serious,” she continued, making the smile on my face falter. “You can’t just show up the way you want and expect everything to adjust around you, I taught you better.”

“So you don't want me here?”

“I never said that.”

“But that's what you mean!” I slammed my palm on the table, pushing the chair back as I rose to my feet. I'd come home for a moment of peace, to heal from my heartbreak with Jean, but the idea that my mom didn't want me around was like another stab to my fragile heart. “You know, I actually thought you've changed.” I mumbled shakily. “But you're still the cold, busy statue I grew up with.”

Before I could say something else, her palm connected against my cheek in seconds, making my eyes burn. “I am still your mother, young woman.”