A Soul Ensnared

Eighteen

"What a day!" Sonya groaned, flopping into her chair. She'd forgotten how tedious it was to greet every company, every vendor, and every organization in attendance. She couldn't remember how many hands she'd shaken, and her jaw ached from the constant smile she'd had plastered across her face. It had been fun, though. Tournaments were the highlight of her year. She enjoyed networking as much as she enjoyed putting the Club's name on people's lips.

She also enjoyed sitting.

Closing her eyes, she leaned back, and breathed. The evening festivities would begin in the next hour. The players were collecting their winnings, Nancy was wrapping up with the press, and the staff was readying the outdoor areas for the night's events. It was time for her to get ready for the evening, but she couldn't will herself to stand. "Day One isn't over, and I'm already exhausted," she muttered to herself. Turning in her chair, she looked across the back nine. The crowd had lessened considerably. Some were leaving for the day, some had left to bring the children to a babysitter's, and others were using the Club's facilities to change into their evening attire.

She needed to step outside before the majority of her members showed up, a fact that pushed her to her aching feet. Grabbing the bag she'd packed with makeup, shoes, and a curling iron, along with the hanging bag containing her dress, she stepped out into the hall. After pulling her office door closed, she turned to walk toward a private dressing room, creating a mental list of tasks she needed to complete throughout the night.

Noah was walking down the hallway toward her. He had changed into a pin-striped, black suit with a dark gray shirt and a lighter toned gray tie. He looked flawless. Her step faltered. It was clear that they both saw each other, but she didn't know if he would greet her, ignore her, or plow straight through her. Because she couldn't avoid him altogether, she decided to be the one to break the silence.

With a courage she didn't know she possessed, she lifted her eyes to his and smiled. "Evening, Noah," she murmured. "How was your day?"

His face was pale, and there was an agitated wildness in his eyes, as if the effort of standing in her presence bothered him. Sonya's heart sank, but she maintained eye contact, and reminded herself that she was the source of his reaction toward her.

Noah rolled his shoulders back, pressed his lips into a thin, straight line, and breathed to suppress his emotions. "It was fine, Ms. Lancaster," he remarked, tone clipped. "I take it you're changing?"

She nodded, gesturing to her hanging bag. "I'll be outside in a few moments."

He motioned for her to step past him, toward the dressing room, and she did so without another word. Their conversation dampened Sonya's spirits. She had hurt him; she had broken his trust—or at least that was the way he felt. It wasn't grounded in reality, Sonya reminded herself.

She wanted to turn back, to explain that she hadn't done it, that she hadn't chosen Brent. The words wouldn't come because she hadn't chosen Noah, either. She had chosen herself, and had for the past six days. She would have to deal with the ramifications until Noah decided to forgive her.

She continued down the hall, pushing through the door of the changing room. Setting down her things, she placed her hands over her eyes, and let out a silent scream. I want things to go back to the way they were, she railed in her head. I want Noah to be my friend—to be the man I can laugh with, instead of the man who looks at me like I'm a lost cause. I'm not lost! I'm free! Can't he see that?

She dropped her arms, turning to her reflection in the mirror. Nothing about her appearance had changed. She looked the same as she always had. Noah wouldn't be able to see the inner strength she felt, and neither would anyone else. She couldn't expect him to. Instead, she needed to work on mending their broken friendship, on rebuilding his trust.