Chapter 116 One Hundred And Sixteen
The restaurant Sofia chose was not accidental.
It was discreet. Exclusive. Quiet.
The kind of place where conversations stayed buried under low jazz music and clinking crystal.
Sofia walked beside him like she belonged there, like she belonged beside him.
She wore a cream silk blouse tucked into high-waisted trousers, her hair sleek and perfectly controlled. Nothing about her was accidental.
Nothing about her ever had been.
They were shown to a corner table by the window.
Kennedy sat opposite her, posture composed, expression unreadable.
Sofia smiled.
“I forgot how serious you look when you’re thinking too much.”
“I’m not thinking too much.”
“You are,” she said gently. “You always get that line between your brows.”
Her fingers hovered in the air as if she might smooth it out, but she stopped herself.
He noticed.
He also noticed the deliberate restraint.
“So,” she began lightly, reaching for her glass of water, “how have you been, Kennedy?”
“Busy.”
She smiled faintly. “You’ve always hidden behind that word.”
“And you’ve always asked questions you already know the answer to.”
Her eyes sparkled slightly. “Touché.”
The waiter arrived. Orders were placed. Sofia chose something light. Kennedy barely glanced at the menu before picking a steak.
When they were alone again, Sofia leaned back, studying him.
“You’ve changed.”
“Everyone does.”
“No,” she shook her head softly. “Not like this. You’re… harder.”
His gaze flicked to her.
“Life does that.”
“And who did it?” she asked, almost playfully.
He didn’t answer.
She tilted her head. “Is it her?”
There it was.
Not direct.
Not accusing.
Just curious enough to seem harmless.
Kennedy picked up his glass and took a slow sip of water.
“Who?” he asked evenly.
Sofia gave a soft laugh. “Please. I’m not stupid.”
He said nothing.
She leaned forward slightly.
“Antonia.”
Her name hung between them.
His jaw tightened almost imperceptibly.
Sofia noticed.
“Ah,” she murmured softly. “So it is her.”
“That’s none of your concern.”
“Of course it is,” she said calmly. “We were once in a relationship. I think I’m allowed mild curiosity.”
He held her gaze steadily. “Really?”
“Aren't I?” she asked gently.
The food arrived before he could respond.
For a few minutes, they ate in silence.
But Sofia wasn’t done.
She never left things unfinished.
“You look exhausted,” she said quietly, cutting into her meal. “Is she worth it?”
Kennedy’s fork paused mid-air.
“You don’t get to talk about her like that.”
“I’m not insulting her,” Sofia said smoothly. “I’m asking if she brings you peace.”
Peace.
The word felt foreign lately.
He thought of Antonia.
The look on her face when she looked at Austin.
The hesitation.
The defense.
The baby.
His son.
A muscle ticked in his jaw.
Sofia watched every shift in his expression.
“Do you see him often?” she asked softly.
He looked up sharply.
“See who?”
“The baby,” she clarified, as though it were innocent. “Your son.”
His eyes hardened slightly. “Why are you asking?”
“Because I care about you.”
“That’s interesting.”
She exhaled slowly. “Kennedy… I wasn’t your enemy.”
“No,” he said coolly. “You were calculating.”
A small smile touched her lips. “And you loved that about me.”
He didn’t deny it.
That silence told her enough.
“Are you happy?” she asked, breaking the silence.
That question lingered longer than the others.
Happy.
He thought about the night before.
About the anger.
About the doubt creeping in like poison.
“I don’t know,” he admitted quietly.
Sofia’s gaze softened.
“You deserve certainty,” she said.
He let out a humorless chuckle. “Do I?”
“Yes.”
Her hand slowly moved across the table, resting near his, not touching yet. Waiting.
“You and I,” she continued softly, “we understood each other. There were no surprises. No emotional chaos.”
His eyes flicked to her hand.
She smiled faintly. “I still feel we would have been good together.”
There it was.
Honesty.
Straight and precise.
“With me,” she continued, “you were steady. Focused. Powerful.”
“And with her?” he asked.
“You’re distracted.”
Her fingers lightly brushed his.
Brief.
Deliberate.
“You don’t like feeling out of control,” she murmured.
He didn’t pull his hand away.
That was her first victory.
“You think she makes me weak?”
“I think she makes you unsure.”
He leaned back slightly, withdrawing his hand at last.
“You didn’t come here to reminisce.”
“No,” she admitted softly.
“Then why?”
Sofia took a slow breath.
“Because I can't stop thinking about you, Kennedy. I miss you. I miss us.”
His gaze sharpened.
"Sofia, we are done."
“But Antonia and Autin aren't.”
His eyes darkened instantly.
She saw it.
Hooked.
"What do you mean?"
"I ran into Austin yesterday. He is in town, and I could only think of one reason why."
“Careful,” he warned.
“I’m not attacking her,” Sofia said quickly. “But men like Austin wouldn't travel all the way down her if they’re not given openings.”
He stared at her.
“You don’t know him.”
“I know men,” she replied coolly. “And I know when one is territorial.”
His silence stretched.
Kennedy’s mind replayed it again.
Everything that had happened yesterday.
He clenched his jaw.
Sofia noticed.
The doubt she was planting had already begun to grow.
Sofia sat back slowly, satisfied.
“I’m not here to break anything,” she said gently. “I just don’t want you blindsided.”
“You assume a lot.”
“I observe.”
A slow, heavy silence fell between them.
Then Sofia’s voice softened once more.
“Come over tonight.”
His eyes lifted sharply.
“To talk,” she clarified smoothly. “Nothing more. Just… clarity.”
He studied her carefully.
“I have no business coming to your house.”
She smiled faintly.
“Aren't you tired of fighting for something that doesn’t feel secure?”
Her words sank deeper than she knew.
Or perhaps exactly as deep as she intended.
Kennedy stood slowly.
Lunch was finished.
The air between them felt heavier now.
Complicated.
“Thanks for lunch,” he told her quietly.
Sofia rose gracefully.
“Let's do this again some other time.”
Their eyes locked.
Old familiarity.
Old chemistry.
Old power dynamics.
As they walked out together, Sofia allowed herself a small, private smile.
Because she had seen it.
The crack.
And once doubt enters a man’s heart, it doesn’t leave quietly.