5. Vanessa's Son

Sophie 

The next morning, sunlight streamed across my face.

I groaned softly and rolled over. Then I froze as I remembered where I was and all that happened yesterday. 

I turned my head and he was there.

He was asleep beside me. Hair slightly messy and face looking relaxed, softer in the morning light. 

Still devastatingly handsome.

Butterflies fluttered in my stomach and I crushed them instantly.

What did you do, Sophie? I chided myself as reality set in.

I had just lost my baby.

My marriage had ended.

And all I could do was sleep with a stranger?

No this was a mistake and I needed to get out of here asap!

I slipped out of bed quietly and began gathering my clothes. 

My head throbbed, still hungover from last night and it made my movements clumsy. 

I rushed to put on my underwear, then clothes. 

As I pulled the dress over my head, my heel caught in the fabric.

I lost my  balance and fell.

Oh no!

The noise echoed in the room and he woke up.

I stayed still, too embarrassed to move.

"Hey..." His voice was rough from sleep, low and warm in a way that made my stomach flip despite everything. 

He pushed up on one elbow, sheet pooling low on his hips, exposing the hard lines of his torso I’d mapped with my mouth just hours ago. “You’re leaving?”

I scoffed at the surprise I heard in his tone. Did he expect me to stay after just one night? 

My mistake — I should probably stay. Then move in with him the next second and soon I'd be helping him choose our wedding venue and map out our retirement in the suburbs.

"We had fun," I said, withholding my sarcasm. “That’s all it was.”

He sat up fully now, hair mussed, concern flickering across his face. “Wait. Just—slow down. Are you okay? Did I hurt you last night?”

“No.” I said quickly, unable to meet his gaze. “No, you didn’t. It was… it was good. Really good. But I shouldn’t have—” I gestured vaguely between us, cheeks burning. “This was a mistake. I was drunk. My friends set this up as some stupid joke, and I thought you were… anyway. I need to go.”

He swung his legs over the side of the bed, sheet slipping dangerously lower. He didn’t seem to care. "You don’t have to leave,” he said calmly. "We could have breakfast. Or coffee. We could… keep in touch."

My heart betrayed me and skipped. Why did he want to keep in touch? I was obviously way older. He was hot. Alot of women would want him. 

So why did he want to keep in touch with me?

“I like you,” he added quietly, like he was replying my thoughts.

That made it worse. He couldn't like me, I was certainly out of his league!

I quickly grabbed my bag.

“Look...,” I began firmly. “Last night was just… a distraction. Nothing more. We don’t have to see each other again”

I said even though I was tempted. 

He was warm and inviting. And after everything Ryan had done to me, the idea of someone choosing me—even for a moment—felt intoxicating.

 I hated how much I wanted to crawl back into that bed with him.

But I had to stifle down my fantasies, zip my dress and flee from the room. 

I stopped shortly after I'd closed the door and on it I saw, room 407 staring back at me.

I was confused and I immediately brought out the keycard from my bag. It belonged to room 404.

Oh my goodness! How did I end up in room 407 when I had the keycard to room 404?

Had the door already been opened?

I tried to piece it all together, but the memories were still blurred by a lingering hangover. 

I entered the wrong room...

It all made sense now—why he was dressed in a suit and looked nothing like a gigolo.

Who was he anyway?

It didn't matter... it was a just one night stand.

********

While I was in the hospital, Nicole had arranged a small apartment for me. Vanessa had insisted that I move in with her until I got my footing but I refused. She already had a perfect family and I didn't want to be the wet blanket. 

So I used almost all my savings to secure this apartment. When I got home, I put on my phone to see an influx of messages from Vanessa and Nicole. 

"How did it go! Give us details!"

"It's a long story..." 

That was all I could come up with. I didn't want to start explaining to them how I mistakenly entered the wrong room, had the best night of my life with a guy half my age and ditched him the next morning.

Vanessa called me later. It wasn't to talk about the night before, it was for something else. 

"My son, Antonio just got back from Italy. He won an award — youngest billionaire in Italy. He’s coming back to expand his company branch here and… he says he’s ready to find a wife"

I smiled at that.

Antonio.

I still thought of him as Anthony though.

Vanessa's cute little boy I'd helped raise. I recalled all the time I babysitted whenever she and her husband, Derek were busy with work or how I helped him with his homework. 

He got a scholarship at Italy, right after high-school and had to leave. 

"I've invited him to dinner on Sunday. I want you to come too" she said. 

I hadn’t seen him in years so I was genuinely excited and curious to see how much he'd grown. 

"I'll be there" I replied. 

Sunday evening came and I went early to help Vanessa set up for dinner. 

Not like she needed any help though. Her husband, Derek was already setting the table, stealing kisses from her in between carrying dishes.

I used to envy them. 

They were high-school sweethearts, had Anthony in college and got married right after. 

Most times I'd wished Ryan would love me the way Derek loved Vanessa.

But it was too late for wishes. Ryan and I were done. 

When dinner was finally ready, Vanessa checked her phone.

“Antonio is running late,” she sighed. “He's always busy. I’m sorry, Sophie.”

“It’s fine,” I smiled. “I’m just curious to see how Anthony looks now.”

Vanessa smiled softly. “He prefers Antonio these days.”

“Anthony,” I repeated stubbornly.

We began chatting while we waited for him. I told her about my plans to pursue my dreams again. 

Then the front door opened.

Vanessa’s face lit up as she said; 

“Finally! Antonio! We’ve been waiting for you!”

I turned casually, excited and expecting to see a grown version of the teenage boy I once drove to soccer practice.

But then, my heart stopped.

It was him.

The man whose hands had memorized my body two nights ago.