Sophia hesitated, thinking of the $8 in her purse, thinking of how impossible the situation felt. But something in his eyes gave her courage.
“I would like that,” she said softly.
Part 2
The waiter placed menus in front of them, but Sophia barely looked at hers. Every item cost more than she earned in a day. She felt James watching her, and when she glanced up, he smiled gently.
“Order anything you like,” he said. “Tonight, let’s forget about everything else. Just be 2 people sharing a meal.”
“Mr. Whitfield, I—”
“James,” he said quietly. “Please. Just for tonight.”
She hesitated, then nodded. “James.”
The name felt natural, as though it had been waiting to be spoken.
As they waited for their food, the conversation unfolded slowly, then more easily. Sophia told him about Ryan, about the messages that had made her feel special, about the hope that had grown and then collapsed.
“He said I wasn’t what he was looking for,” she said, her voice low. “I think he saw my profile and decided I wasn’t good enough. Not educated enough. Not successful enough. Just not enough.”
James felt anger rise within him.
“His loss is immeasurable,” he said. “And if I’m being honest, I’m grateful to him.”
Sophia looked at him, surprised. “Grateful?”
“Because if he had shown up, I wouldn’t be sitting here with you. I wouldn’t have finally opened my eyes to what’s been in front of me all this time.”
The conversation shifted, flowing naturally. Sophia spoke about her childhood in San Diego, her mother who worked cleaning houses, her younger brother studying engineering with the help of the money she sent home.
“My dream,” she said quietly, “is to own a small bakery someday. Nothing fancy. Just a place where people feel welcome.”
James listened, realizing how little he knew about the woman who had been in his home for years.
“What about you?” she asked suddenly. “What’s your dream?”
The question caught him off guard.
“I don’t know anymore,” he admitted. “I think I stopped dreaming a long time ago.”
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