Sophia's POV

"I am still your mother, young woman." I nearly laughed at the words, pressing my palm against my cheeks as I fought the tears burning the back of my eyelids. 

This woman didn't care about me. Why did I ever think she'd change? 

I felt Marcus' gaze burning through me, and it made it harder to even keep myself together. We were just meeting for the first time, and he could already see the sour relationship I had with my mother. He could see that we weren't on good terms-never have been. He could see that I was merely a visitor here because this would never be my home anymore. 

I swallowed hard, my vision blurring slightly before I forced myself to blink it away. I wasn't going to cry here, especially not in front of her. 

I pushed my chair back so fast it scraped loudly against the floor and walked fast until I was almost running up the stairs.

My vision blurred halfway through, and by the time I reached my room, I couldn't hold it in anymore. Everything I'd been holding in-from Jean, the flight, this house, and my mom-it all crashed down at the same time.

I sank onto the floor, my back against the door as my hands covered my face. I should have known this was a mistake. I had come home for peace, and somehow I ended up breaking even more. 

I didn't know how long I remained on the floor for. I felt so weak, I could barely feel anything. Dragging myself to the bed, I fell face first and closed my eyes. 

~~~~

Sunlight slipped through the curtains and I almost wanted to plead for darkness again. Exhausted without doing a single thing, I rolled until I was staring at the ceiling, then decided I wasn't going to allow my mother and Jean ruin my happiness. 

My head ached slightly, and my eyes were still heavy, but I pushed through it. After a quick shower and a fresh set of clothes, I stepped out of my room. 

The smell of coffee pulled me toward the kitchen, and the moment I stepped in, It felt like my brain stopped functioning. Marcus stood by the counter, completely shirtless, muscles shifting slightly as he reached for a mug. I nearly wanted to gouge my eyes out for gawking at my stepfather this way. 

This...this was insane. 

I cleared my throat softly, forcing myself to move to make my own coffee. It seemed that I just announced my presence because his grey eyes were on me again. 

"You want coffee?" he asked softly, like last night hadn't happened. He even had a small look of pity in his eyes, but I hated it. I didn't want anyone's pity. 

"I can make it myself," I said quickly. "You don't have to be nice to me because of yesterday."

His brow lifted slightly. "I didn't say you couldn't make it."

I crossed my arms slightly. "Then why ask?"

"Because I want to," he replied simply, already turning back to the counter. Before I could argue again, he poured the coffee, then he walked over and handed it to me. "Here."

I hesitated for half a second before taking it. 

"Thank you," I muttered, taking a sip as his eyes lingered on me. 

"She regrets it." He nearly made me choke on my coffee. 

"What?"

He leaned back against the counter, watching me with a certain kind of interest. "Your mom," he said. "She regrets what happened last night."

I let out a quiet breath, followed by a small shake of my head. "No, she doesn't."

His expression didn't change. "She does."

I looked up at him then, tracing my eyes over the small tattoos on his toned body and his firm jawline. I took another sip of my coffee and something clicked. "You're covering for her, right?"

"I'm not covering for her."

"Yes, you are." I exhaled, looking down at my cup. "Just like last night. You said she talked about me... that she thought I'd come around." I sucked in a breath. "She didn't say that, did she?"

He went quiet for the first time today, and that was my answer. "You don't have to fix this," I added quietly. "You can't fix us."

"I'm not trying to fix it," he said.

"Then what are you doing?"

"To help you feel better."

I swallowed, tightening my grip slightly on the mug. "I'm fine," I muttered. Did he really take note of how miserable I looked last night? Could he tell I was going through a heartbreak? 

"You're not a very good liar." His voice pulled me out of my thoughts. "It's written all over you that you're not okay."

I let out a short breath, shaking my head. "I don't want to do this right now."

"Then don't," he said calmly. "But whatever happened in Los Angeles...it followed you here."

My fingers stilled. "You don't know anything about that."

"No," he agreed. "But I know what it looks like when someone's trying to outrun something that's already caught up to them. Sometimes pouring it out is the first step to healing." 

My mom didn't even notice I was dealing with something. She never even asked about my life there, but a man I met yesterday was so concerned about my healing process? A part of me didn't want to tell him, but what Jean did was eating me alive. 

"It was a relationship," I said slowly, and he didn't try to interrupt. "Or at least... I thought it was, and then I found out he had a wife." 

I could feel the tears again, but I tried to keep them in. "I found out about her at their anniversary party," I continued, my voice filled with tears. "And I even brought a cake."

"You brought a cake," he repeated quietly.

"Yeah." I nodded. "stupid, right?"

Marcus shook his head. "You're not stupid for loving, he is an idiot." 

I blinked, glancing up at him. "What?"

"The asshole you just told me about," he said simply. "He's an idiot."

I stared at him, and for the first time since yesterday, a real smile tugged at my lips. 

"He lost something rare," Marcus added, his voice steady. "Not everyone gets someone who shows up the way you did."

I looked down quickly, hiding the way my smile softened. "Thank you." 

"There's something I make," he said after a moment, pushing off the counter. "Whenever I need to feel better."

I glanced at him. "Yeah?"

He nodded toward the kitchen. "That delicacy works every time."

I hesitated, then asked politely. "Can you make it for me?" it came out softer than I intended, then I added quickly. "Just for today."

His gaze lingered on me for a second before he nodded, urging me to sit while he moved around the kitchen again.

A sweet aroma filled my nostrils, wrapping around me in a way that brought comfort to my weary soul. 

By the time he placed the plate in front of me, I didn't hesitate. I took a bite and moaned, my eyes widening slightly. "This is... really good."

A small smile pulled at his lips. "Told you."

I grabbed a spoon this time, taking another bite, then another. "Okay, no, this is insane," I said, shaking my head slightly. "How are you this good?"

"Practice," he said simply.

I huffed softly. "That's not a real answer."

"It is," he replied, stepping closer to the kitchen island. "You just don't like it."

I rolled my eyes, taking another bite, slower this time. "No, I just think you're hiding some secret."

"Maybe I am."

I glanced up at him, narrowing my eyes slightly. "Are you going to tell me?"

"No."

I let out a small laugh, shaking my head as I looked back down at the plate. "You're unbelievable."

I took another bite, but this time I was more aware of how close he was standing, of the way his presence seemed to fill the space without trying.

"You've got something," he said suddenly, leaning toward me. 

I frowned slightly. "What?"

He didn't answer immediately. He leaned even closer, and my breath caught before I could stop it. "Wait...what are you.."

His thumb brushed softly against the corner of my lips and my heart skipped a beat.