Chapter 1
Sophie Trovsky stood by the loft-sized window, shoulders wrapped in a dark purple blanket worn with loose threads and memories. Three stories below and far into the distance, frothy waves crashed onto the white sand beaches of Cape Coral. The sun inched its way into the clear sky, its golden rays spilling over the horizon. Sophie closed her tired eyes as the cool wind swept across her face. She felt the whisper of sweet nothings feathering her ear, and strong, familiar arms curling around her waist, chaining her to the daydream that forever plagued her mind.
What a fool she'd been, believing that she could simply erase her past and start a new chapter in her life. How was she supposed to move on when he haunted her every thought, every breath? How was she supposed to forge a new life when his love had branded her and then abandoned her?
Since her days had been proclaimed purposeless in his absence, she resorted to passing every free hour in slumber. But he had soon conquered her dreams, so she'd begun to rise from bed and wait for the sun to declare a new day, a day that was one step closer to reuniting Sophie with Sammy.
Grazing her hand against the chipping white paint of the window frame, she wondered what would happen if she climbed onto the windowsill. Would the wind carry her soul away? Would it extinguish the emptiness residing within her?
“Sophie,” a voice called out her name.
Sophie turned sharply, too sharply, and blinding specks of gold danced in front of her eyes. With a boulder of guilt crushing her insides, she stepped away from the windowsill. Pulling the blanket tightly around her hunched shoulders, she shuffled her bare feet across the wood floor into the living room.
Standing by the doorway was her older sister, Angie. Angie pushed her ridiculously large Gucci sunglasses from the tiny bridge of her nose just over her windblown bangs. A delicate peaches-and-cream blouse; a string of pearls gracing her elegant neck; long strawberry blond locks framing both sides of her face. Angelica Trovsky looked every bit of the fashion icon the magazines proclaimed her to be.
Clad in an old sweatshirt of Sammy's and a pair of shorts that needed a wash, Sophie paled in comparison to her sister, a world renowned fashion designer and entrepreneur, the pride and joy of the Trovsky family.
Sophie winced and grabbed her head at the clashing ring of decorative chains swinging from Angie’s leather purse. The effects of last night’s encounter with the conniving Jack Daniels and his good friend, Mr. Smirnoff, had taken full swing.
Sophie closed her hazel green eyes to steady herself against the ringing sensation in her ears. When she opened her eyes, she found Angie pulling out a round, tin take-out carton from a plastic bag.
“I’ve brought your favorite: chocolate chip pancakes.” Angie smiled.
“Thanks,” Sophie mumbled despite the nausea that protested any mention of food. “You didn’t have to.” She sat on a bar stool, elbows leaning against the counter and hands supporting her heavy head.
Angie rummaged through the cabinets above the sink and revealed the crumbled, half-empty bag of ground coffee. Sophie's back stiffened at the sweet waft of air that penetrated her nostrils as Angie poured the ground substance into the coffeemaker.
The girls sat in silence, concentrating on the maddening hum of the refrigerator and the strong hazelnut aroma that now dominated the otherwise bare atmosphere. It was pathetic how something as simple as coffee could ignite a storm of tears. After drowning her gut-wrenching sobs in liquor last night, she had promised herself she wouldn’t do this in front of Angie.
“Sophie,” Angie whispered, heartbroken. She came around to pull her little sister into a hug.
Sophie shook her head and refused to succumb to the tender touch that aimed to soothe her pain. She swiped the back of her hand across her cheeks. She needed to be strong, today of all days. Rubbing at her eyes, Sophie heard the clatter of Angie fishing out three spoons of sugar and pouring black coffee into a mug. Angie placed it in front of her, as though this hot beverage would clog up the river streaming down Sophie’s face. One whiff was all it took to make Sophie sick to her stomach.
Sophie shook her head and pushed the mug away. Didn't Angie know that it brought back too many memories? After all, Angie had been there, at the coffee shop where Sophie's and Sammy's eyes had met. Sometimes, when Sophie found it hard to believe that Sammy had once been a reality, she reminded herself that Angie had been a witness to their love affair.
“I’m such an idiot.” Angie quickly dumped the steaming liquid into the sink. “I’m sorry, Sophie.” She frowned. After an entire year of letting her little sister cry on her shoulder, Angie inevitably found herself at a loss for soothing words. She desperately wished for Sophie to find the strength to get back on her feet and move on. But lately, she had come to the conclusion that there were no cures for the ailment of a broken heart. She had witnessed her little sister go through so much suffering over the past year that she couldn’t imagine how she'd cope if Rick, her boyfriend, ever left her.
Fussing over her bangs, Angie cursed herself for even thinking like that. Today wasn’t about Angie. Today was about Sophie, she reminded herself. “Maybe you should go take a shower,” Angie suggested quietly. “You’re supposed to meet Phil and Anne.”
Sophie’s grip tightened around the edge of the counter, knuckles turning a ghostly white at the mention of their names. Phil and Anne: Sammy’s parents. She hadn’t seen them since Sammy’s funeral one year ago to this day. Gritting her teeth against the threat of another wave of tears, she stood.
Once in the bathroom, she took a long, hard look at herself in the mirror. She hadn’t done this often. The dark half-moons encompassing her bloodshot eyes; the thin, grim line of her lips: these served as the source of what she had been afraid of. She hadn’t thought she would ever be able to survive Sammy’s death. Yet here she was, half ghost, half human; a true conundrum.
She turned on the hot water in the shower and stepped inside. Her sore, wilted body pelted with bullets of fire, she had never felt more alive. And more importantly, she knew that it was the most effective wake-up call after a long night of self-loathing. Sometimes she wished she could melt and swirl down the shower drain, into an abyss that would swallow her whole. She didn’t know where it would take her, but she knew that it would be dark, and that would be enough.
Turning the water off and wrapping herself in a towel, she padded over to her closet, leaving wet footprints along the floorboards in her wake. Her eye wandered off into the far corner, where the turquoise silk dress hung like a ghost of her past. She had worn the dress for their two-year anniversary. Sammy had told her the turquoise brought out the color in her eyes. There hadn’t been an ounce of color left in her when Sammy was diagnosed with leukemia a month later.
She pulled on her cleanest pair of dark jeans, and frowned when the waistline sagged against her hips. She had lost weight. Again. She slid a white tank top over her head and gathered her wet, tangled waves into a ponytail. Sammy had loved the cherry brown hue of her hair. But it had faded soon after Sammy was gone. Now that she was going to visit his gravesite, she felt ashamed that she had let herself go. Still, she didn’t bother with any makeup; Sammy had always been able to see right through her.
Upon exiting her bedroom, she found Angie placing the untouched pancakes into the nearly empty fridge. Then Angie’s fingers played with the long, pearl necklace dangling from her neck.
Sophie knew that the calm, cool, and collected Angie only fidgeted when she was nervous. Sophie couldn’t help but feel as though her own sister didn’t know how to act in front of her. Soundlessly, she met Angie at the other side of the island in the kitchen. Angie started as though she'd seen a ghost, and dropped her hand to her side like a child caught stealing from a cookie jar.
“I have to go,” Angie said, biting her lip. “Rick is waiting for me outside.”
Sophie couldn’t understand what her sister saw in that prick. Angie was creative, free-spirited, and kind-hearted. Rick was a hotshot lawyer with deep pockets and many successful cases under his belt. But that hadn’t compensated for his dry-as-the-Sahara personality. Bottom line, Angie deserved better.
“I’ll see you at dinner tonight, right?” Angie asked.
Sophie hesitated. She had always loathed Sunday night family dinners, and tonight, especially tonight, she just wanted to be left alone. She didn’t want to listen to her mother lecture her about how to maintain a healthy diet and how she should call her old ballet instructor and tell her she was ready to take the stage again, when, in reality, Sophie was so adamantly against this. She had given up on her career shortly after the accident that injured her knee. Sophie decided that the world of dance was a path she no longer desired to follow, and yet, no amount of time was able to convince her strong-headed mother otherwise.
“You have to come,” Angie pleaded. “Please. You shouldn’t be alone tonight.”
Alone. She'd been alone for a long time. “Fine,” Sophie answered softly, knowing there was no use in arguing against the inevitable. “I’ll be there.”
“Promise to drive safely,” said Angie.
Sophie nodded.
Angie turned to leave, but then hesitated, as though guilt or pity or whatever other emotion that Sophie had been constantly bombarded with after Sammy’s death had stopped her in her tracks. “You know, I could cancel with Rick and go with you.”
Sophie shook her head. “No, I need to do this alone.” In all honesty, she didn’t know how she would react walking down the cobblestone path to Sammy’s grave. She didn’t known how she would react to seeing Sammy’s parents. That was enough reason for not letting Angie accompany her.
Angie gave a small nod, the kind of nod that said she didn’t want Sophie to go alone.
“I’ll be fine,” Sophie added as a measure of reassurance for the both of them.
Before she knew what was happening, Sophie found herself engulfed in Angie’s arms.
“I love you,” Angie whispered.
Sophie's brave face melted and she replied, “I love you, too.”
* * *
Sophie slowed Sammy’s black, rusty Mustang to a stop along the sidewalk. Her mother, a woman that stood by sophistication, old money, and diamonds like a religion, had incessantly begged her to replace the car with something more reliable and representative of the family name. Despite the handful of times that the Mustang had left her stranded on the side of the road, it was one of the few things that made Sophie feel as though Sammy was still with her.
She had convinced herself that if she thought about him often enough, maybe, just maybe, he would come back. If she took long drives down the highway with no particular destination in mind, simply chasing the sunset, maybe she would find him in the passenger seat, smiling at her and holding her hand.
She closed her eyes and recalled the times she and Sammy would drive to Duncan’s Hill, lie out on the hood, gaze at the stars, and talk about their future together. But she knew she couldn’t live in her imagination.
She opened her weary eyes and found the wrought iron intricacies of the black cemetery fence mocking her with her sordid reality. One glance of the headstones, the green trimmed grass, the patches of caramel brown mounds of fresh dirt had been enough to steal her breath away. The last time she’d been here, she had passed out with a bottle of rum by Sammy’s gravestone, and Jade, one of her closest friends, had discovered her there the next morning.
She forced herself out of the car, tightening her grip around the bouquet of red roses.
Red. Sammy liked red.
She started down the path, steeling herself for the carving of his name. Her iron grip around the long stems failed to suppress the tremors in her hands. The thorns pricking through the soft skin of her fingertips could not compare to the pain in her chest.
An old couple stood in front of Sammy’s headstone. The man with thinning, gray hair watched as his wife knelt to the grass and placed a bouquet of white roses by Sammy’s grave. The woman wiped away her tears with a handkerchief and straightened up. The man put his arm around her and rested his head on top of hers.
The old couple was Phil and Anne: Sammy’s parents.
Sophie quickly realized they appeared older than she remembered. Loss did that to people, Sophie realized. It changed them, both inside and out.
“I can’t believe it’s been a year. It still feels like it was just yesterday I was holding him—” A sob erupted from within Anne and she buried her face in Phil’s chest.
The tears that Sophie held back this morning had sprung a leak and slid down her cheeks with haste. She bit her lip to suppress the quivering in her chin; instead, it rewarded her with a thick, copper taste coating her tongue, making her sick to her stomach.
Anne pulled away and sniffled. “Sophie,” she said in the quietest voice. “Come here, sweetheart.”
Sophie walked the few steps toward her and they threw their arms around each other. Anne’s lavender-scented perfume sent Sophie’s mind spinning in a whirlwind of memories. It was the same perfume that Anne was wearing when Sophie had collapsed in her arms the night Sammy died in the hospital.
Anne had lost her son, and Sophie had lost her soul mate.
“We’ll let you have a moment,” Phil said when the women detangled, and he led Anne down the same path Sophie came from.
Sophie knelt down slowly, tactfully on weak knees in front of Sammy and placed the roses next to Anne’s bouquet. For the longest time, she just sat there and pounded the grass as the tears fell and the sobs exploded. She’d been dreading this moment for weeks. She thought of all the things she wanted to say to him. But she couldn’t put one coherent thought together. All she knew was that the storm brewing within her for the past year had finally reached the surface.
She’d always felt as though she’d been tethered to him since the moment their eyes met. But now, knowing that he was resting in the very ground beneath her, she’d never felt so far away from him.
What was she supposed to say to him?
That she was pissed that he had left her all alone in this world?
That she was trying to stay strong like he’d told her to, but it was just too hard?
That she had to tell herself this was a dream and that she’d wake up soon and find him next to her to keep her from doing something stupid?
That she missed him every waking moment of the day and every sleepless second of the night?
All of this was true, but none of it was enough.
She missed having him in bed next to her, the teasing kisses he would place on the nape of her neck; the way he would absentmindedly twirl her hair around his finger. She missed falling asleep to the sound of his steady breath, she missed the way he bit his lip when he tried to think of a lyric, and the grin that lit up his face when she walked into the room. She missed his voice. God, she’d give anything just to hear his voice.
“Can you hear me, Sammy?” she whispered, and looked up at the clear blue sky. “I miss you.”