Plus One

Chapter Twenty-One

Sophie was just returning from one of her doctor's appointments when her phone rang.

"Hello?"

"Yes, can I speak to Ms. Kinsale?"

"This is Sophie," she said.

"Oh, great. Ms. Kinsale, this is Evelyn Xiang from Condé Nast. How are you?"

"Great. What can I help you with?"

"We loved your treatment for the Ian Tate profile and we were hoping we could get you to photograph for the Hong Kong Tate. We're doing a feature on Asian hotels and the Tate is going to be our number one choice."

This was really happening. Without Ian's help. She was now, officially, a professional photographer.

"Oh. I...I'd love to," Sophie said. "When do you need me?"

"Well, this is very last minute. I have to be honest, we had another photographer lined up, but he had something come up. We'd need to get you on a plane tomorrow."

Oh, God, another plane. And this time without Ian. Or his Xanax.

"That's fine."

"Excellent. I'll have someone from HR call you about your fee and your per diem and all that. You'll be there for three days and the staff is very much looking forward to meeting you. You'll find them to be extremely accommodating. Do you have a couple minutes to talk about the creative side of it?"

"Yes, absolutely."

"Alright. First, I'll need you and the writer of the article to connect today. She'll send over the copy so you know what shots you will absolutely need. What we love about the Hong Kong Tate is that it is a gorgeous fusion of East and West. It has Chinese flair with New York sensibility. So you'll definitely want to highlight aspects that show that. Have you stayed in a Tate hotel before?"

"Just the one here in LA," she said.

"So you know how it incorporates modern luxury with a playful sensibility."

"Yes, absolutely."

Her night in the Tate had been such a blur. It seems like a million years ago, that first night with Ian. So much had happened since. She'd loved doing Ian's photo shoot there, though. She tried not to think of the ambassador's dinner.

"Alright, I think that's everything, but call me if you have any questions. We'll have a car pick you up tomorrow morning at seven sharp."

Sophie stared at the phone after she hung up. A small smile curled across her face and she patted her stomach, whispering, "See? Mama can take care of you just fine."

She went up to her room to pack, calling Jenna to let her know she'd be gone.

"Can I put you down as my emergency contact?" she asked. "After what happened in Spain, I know I need someone who can stay on top of this stuff. My parents would just freak out."

"Of course. Oh my god, I'm so excited for you! Did you tell Ian?"

"No. Condé Nast is my boss, not him. It would just make things complicated."

"Because of Elise?"

"Yeah. And because of the baby. I need to cut some strings, you know?"

The next morning, Sophie got in the Lincoln town car that would be driving her to LAX. All she brought with her was a small rolling suitcase, her equipment, and her purse. When she got to the airport she bought a copy of Vogue and a pack of sleeping pills.