Sophia Hargrave's palpable frustration echoed through the grandeur of her expansive house as she descended the sweeping staircase, her voice tinged with a blend of exasperation and genuine worry. The soft glow of the chandeliers above seemed to dim as she muttered, "I swear to God, where is that kid?"
Having meticulously combed through every nook and cranny of the lavishly appointed residence, her relentless search for her elusive son, Isaac, had proven utterly fruitless. Not a single room had been left untouched, and she had even ventured into the meticulously landscaped backyard, where the meticulously trimmed hedges and manicured flower beds held no clues.
She hadn't hesitated to cast a wide net in her pursuit, going so far as to contact the manager of the nearby ice rink, a place that had become a second home for her husband and son. "God forbid if there was ever a day when they didn't have their skates on," she mused, a wry smile momentarily playing on her lips.
Pulling her sleek iPhone from the pocket of her designer trousers, Sophia expertly dialed a familiar number, her impatience evident in the subtle tapping of her well-manicured nails against the device. She awaited a response with a mixture of apprehension and urgency. "Seth, is my son there?"
"I haven't seen him today, Sophie. I'm sorry, have you tried the ice rink?"
"He's not here. I already called," Sophia replied, the undercurrent of anxiety becoming more pronounced. Massaging her temples delicately with her slender fingers, she asked, "Do you know where he could be?"
The man's laughter, warm and comforting, crackled through the phone. "Sophia, Sophie, Soph. Have you tried the Fabray's?"
The revelation struck her like a sudden burst of sunlight breaking through storm clouds. "How has it not occurred to me before?" she sighed, berating herself internally. "They are literally attached at the hip, those two."
"They're best friends. Do you not remember what JJ and Alec were like back in the day?".
"Don't remind me, Seth. I still have nightmares about that skunk."
"Where is your husband?"
"He's nonchalantly packing the bags into the car with absolute zero concern about our son's whereabouts. I swear, Seth, those two drive me up the wall sometimes."
"Sophie, you married the man. We all warned you, and then you had Ace. JJ literally said copy paste," Seth chuckled. In the background, the unmistakable sounds of hustle and bustle at Toussaint's could be heard.
"We're still making the same joke, Cohen? You already made the joke the day my son was born. Don't you think that joke is getting old? Grow up."
"Never, Collins," Seth responded, his amusement palpable. Sophia could practically visualize him sticking his tongue out at her, prompting another eye roll. "I know you're rolling your eyes."
"And I know you're sticking your tongue out," she retorted with a petulant tone.
"Touche, Collins. Well, I have to get back to work or else Gracie will hit me. Tell JJ I'm sorry I can't go see the game, but that all of Fairbrook will meet at Toussaint's to watch it tomorrow. And say hello to Ace for me and tell him he will have a huge tiramisu from Grace waiting for him."
"Don't worry, I'll tell him."
Sophia glided out of the front door, the gentle morning light casting a golden hue on her blonde hair. The air was crisp, carrying the scent of dew-kissed grass as she made her way towards the garage. Inside, her husband was meticulously securing the last suitcase in the trunk of their car.
Leaning against the door frame, she watched him with an unspoken admiration. At thirty-two, her husband exuded a timeless allure that had captivated her since their first meeting sixteen years ago. His physique spoke of his commitment to staying in top physical shape, and his warm smile mirrored the one she had first fallen for. As her eyes lingered on him, memories of their shared history flooded her mind.
Their son, Isaac, shared an uncanny resemblance to his father, making them seem more like brothers than father and son. From their matching brown curls to the mirrored smiles, Sophia couldn't help but marvel at the genetic echoes that sometimes drove her to a delightful form of madness.'My boys,' she fondly thought, closing the distance between her and Jacob as she hugged him from behind, the warmth of their connection enveloping them.
"Hello, my love," he greeted her, turning with a soft smile to plant a brief, affectionate kiss on her lips. "I'm done packing. This was the last suitcase"
Sophia, with practiced care, adjusted the collar of his shirt, a small, intimate gesture that had become a cherished habit over the years. His eyes, filled with love, never wavered from hers. "Your son is not home. I had to call Seth, and he mentioned he might be at the Fabrays'," she shared.
Jacob, with mischief twinkling in his eyes, feigned offense, his lips curling into a playful smile. "So, when Isaac disappears or finds himself in trouble, he's suddenly my son. But when he's all dreamy about Russel's daughter, he's miraculously yours? I see how things are, Collins."
His wife, a twinkle of humor in her gaze, retorted with a pout, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "Let me have something for myself. You know perfectly well that he's practically a miniature version of you. God, it's not like I gave birth to him or anything."
"Priest has made the joke again," Jacob stated more than asked, tilting his head in mock contemplation. Unamused, she responded with a displeased noise, her eyes narrowing slightly.
"Seth really, really needs a girlfriend. And then I'll make sure to tell the poor girl all the nasty things he's done since I've known him."
"Soph, we're guys. We do this kind of shit all the time. You knew it from the moment you decided to date me."
Her husband chuckled, attempting to pull her into a hug. Sophia playfully escaped, her laughter filling the air as she initiated a spontaneous game of chase around the spacious garage. In these moments, she couldn't help but feel an overwhelming sense of gratitude for marrying a man like Jacob – her best friend and soulmate. It was as if time had stood still, and they were once again the two high school sweethearts deeply in love, navigating life's adventures together.
She vividly recalled the day Isaac was born. Her pregnancy was uncomplicate but she hadn't experienced as many emotions together as she had when she was pregnant. There were no peculiar cravings, but she marveled at how Jacob was always willing to rise at any hour to fulfill even the smallest of her needs.
Her husband and son treated her like a queen, and in return, she showered them with affection befitting a king and a prince. Their home reverberated with laughter, a testament to the playful pranks her boys enjoyed pulling on her. She reveled in their shared moments of hilarity, relishing the times when their antics left them momentarily startled by her feigned anger or upset.
"I've got you," Jacob whispered, his warm embrace enveloping Sophia like a cocoon of security. His eyes, pools of unwavering devotion, locked onto hers, expressing an unspoken promise of unconditional love. A soft smile adorned his face, a testament to the deep connection they shared.
"Two dollars for your thoughts, Collins," he playfully teased. The reference to an old high school joke sparked a cascade of laughter from Sophia, Alexander 'Alec' Hayes, their ever-jovial best friend, had once quipped about the value of Sophia's thoughts, suggesting they were worth more than a mere two pennies.
"I think my thoughts are worth more than two dollars, Haygrave," Sophia replied, her laughter lingering like a sweet melody. She caught the glimpse of astonishment on her husband's face, a momentary lapse quickly replaced by a charming smile.
"Tell me, and I'll buy it for you. Roses, a romantic dinner, a new bag, diamonds, a trip, the Moon? You know I can't deny you anything, my love."
Sophia's heart swelled with love for the man standing before her. Jacob's gaze held hers as if she were the only woman in the world, an infinite devotion mirrored in his eyes as if she alone had the power to hang the moon and stars.
"Don't cry," he pleaded, a note of concern tingling his voice as he misread the tears glistening in her eyes. He moved to wipe them away, his touch a tender reassurance. "I didn't mean to make you cry, Soph. I hate it when you cry."
"These are happy tears."
"Don't scare me like that, woman, good God," he exclaimed, the mix of relief and playful scolding evident in his tone as he pressed a loving kiss to her forehead.
"I think we should go now. I'd like to be in New York before midnight. You know I don't like you driving at night, love."
Jacob, a grin playing on his lips, nodded as he reached for the car door, his eyes locking mischievously with Sophia's. "My queen," he teased with a playful glint in his eyes, "where are we going in order to pick up my son?"
Sophia responded to his banter with a mockingly regal gesture, sticking her tongue out at him before gracefully closing the door and settling into the plush comfort of the passenger seat. With practiced ease, her husband slid into the driver's seat with a casual grace, the door closing with a satisfying thud. He tucked his cell phone into the designated holder, securing it in place, and then turned the ignition key, coaxing the engine to life.
"We're heading to the Fabray's. I dropped a message to Judy and she told me that Isaac is there. I swear that boy is everywhere but his own house."
"You know," she began, her voice carrying a nonchalant tone as they glided along the winding road, "the other day Judy sent me this photo." Her husband remained focused on the road, responding with a casual hum to indicate his attentiveness. Sophia continued, "It was a crystal gardenia. You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you?"
As the traffic light transitioned to red, Jacob took advantage of the pause to turn and meet her gaze with a set of puppy dog eyes. "Don't be mad at him," he pleaded, "he just wanted to have a sweet gesture with Lucy. They won't be seeing each other until school starts."
Eyebrows raised, she couldn't help but express her disbelief. "And that's an excuse for purchasing a $175 custom Swarovski crystal gardenia for our son, Jacob?" Her words hung in the air as she scrutinized her husband.
"We have the money," he replied, attempting to diffuse the tension by placing his hand on her knee and tracing random circles. "If our son wants to treat his girl, why not let him?"
"Babe, it's one thing for our son to pick up one of the millions of gardenias at home, and quite another for you to buy him a crystal gardenia worth almost 200 dollars, do you understand me? He's only 12, for God's sake."
"I gave you a pearl necklace on our first date, Soph. Are you... Are you jealous?" " The man countered and smiled, testing the waters.
"Why would I be jealous?" The question had caught her off guard.
"Oh, this is priceless," Her husband's amusement bubbled into laughter, "You're sojealous."
"Stop saying that," she grumbled, her discontent evident as she crossed her arms tightly across her chest. "I'm not jealous."
"You're jealous because, for the first time, you're coming to terms with the fact that you'll have to share Isaac with another woman," he jibed, relishing in his amusement. "Your baby boy is no longer solely yours."
A soft exhale escaped her, laden with a mixture of exasperation and fondness, as she shot him a half-hearted glare. "Oh, shut up," she huffed, her lips forming a playful pout."He's always going to be my baby. No woman will ever be good enough for him. It's an unspoken truth that settles in when you become a mother."
"That's bullshit," Jacob shot back gaze lingered on her, a knowing spark in his eyes. "You like Lucy."
"I like Lucy, my son's best friend – not Lucy, my son's girlfriend. Besides, why are we even talking about this? They're only 12; they couldn't possibly understand what love is."
"My love, I'm saying this with all the affection in the world and with the risk of you hitting me, but are you blind? Lucy is head over heels for him, and I can assure you that almost all the girls in his class are too. The Hargrave genes are not easy to resist. I have no doubt that, in a few years, he'll have girls throwing themselves at his feet." Jacob finished with an arrogant smile, unaware of the storm he might have just stirred.
"Oh, yeah? How many of those girls did you have, love?" Sophia shot back, her tone laced with a jealous glint in her eyes. Her husband's eyes widened, realizing he might have stepped into dangerous territory.
"My love," he began nervously, his words carefully chosen, "you know that for me, it has always been you. What I meant is that we have raised a boy who is polite, respectful, and attentive. One day, he will make the woman he marries extremely happy. We, Hargrave men, know how to worship and cherish our women, you know that."
"Smooth save, Hargrave," She said, a wry smile curving her lips as she gave him a skeptical look. "But just so we're clear, he's still my baby. He's 12, not 18." The possessive gleam in her eyes softened into a more playful expression as she leaned in, "And you better remember that, especially when those girls you mentioned start throwing themselves at him."
"I swear, your mother is some kind of lemonade genius, Luce," Isaac marveled, his brown hair catching the sunlight as he noisily slurped his straw. The sound elicited a burst of laughter from both, the joy of the moment hanging in the air like a sweet melody. "Seriously, I could make this my daily drink and be content for life."
Lucy, her eyes sparkling with amusement, absentmindedly stirred her straw in the concoction. The golden liquid glistened invitingly, beads of condensation trickling down the sides.
"She only whips this up when she knows you're around. It's like your arrival signal."
Before Isaac could retort with a playful comeback, the front door swung open, revealing Judy with a warm smile. She approached, delivering news that added a bittersweet note to the day.
"Isaac, your mother just texted me. They'll be here in five minutes to pick you up."
"Thank you very much for letting me know, Mrs. Fabray," Isaac expressed his gratitude with a respectful nod.
Judy couldn't help but laugh at the boy's earnestness. "You can call me Judy, Isaac. No need for such formality."
The boy gave an affirming nod as he briskly entered his best friend's house. His eyes immediately fell on his backpack, casually perched on the plush couch where Russel Fabray was engrossed in a gripping football game.
"I didn't know you were a Bengals fan, Mr. Fabray," he remarked, his voice carrying a mix of curiosity and amusement, as he effortlessly swung his backpack over his shoulder.
Russel, a genial smile spreading across his face, turned to face the brown-haired visitor. Rising from the couch, he extended a welcoming hand towards Isaac, a gesture that spoke volumes about the warmth shared between father and daughter's best friend.
"Isaac, son, I didn't know you were home; otherwise, I would have said hello. And about the Bengals, in this house, we're more into football than ice hockey," he replied, the pride in his football allegiance evident in his tone.
"Someday, Mr. Fabray, someday I will manage to convince you to come over to the other side."
As they strolled towards the door, a noticeable twinge of sadness colored Russell's expression as he caught sight of his backpack. "Are you leaving already?"
"My parents will be picking me up soon. It's almost eight hours from here to New York."
Realization dawned on the blond man, his demeanor shifting to understanding. "Your father is playing in that charity game tomorrow, right?" Isaac offered another confirming nod. "Don't worry, we'll be cheering from here."
The faint sound of a car approaching gradually grew louder until it came to a halt, signaling the arrival of Isaac's parents. Eagerly, they emerged from the sleek vehicle, exchanging warm greetings with the Fabrays. Meanwhile, their children engaged in animated conversation, the air around them bittersweet.
Isaac, a grin playing on his lips, reached into his bag and carefully extracted a tastefully wrapped package and presented it to Lucy. Surprise flickered across her face as she gauged its weight, curiosity evident in her eyes.
"You already gave me the gardenia just a week ago. What's this?"
"Open it, and you'll see," The boy urged, bouncing with infectious enthusiasm.
With a mixture of surprise and delight, Lucy carefully unwrapped the package. Her green eyes sparkled with excitement as she took in the contents. "You didn't," she exclaimed, her astonishment evident.
"Yeah, I did."
Abandoning her gift momentarily, the girl hurriedly enveloped her best friend in a tight hug, causing him to momentarily lose his balance. Swiftly recovering, he reciprocated the embrace.
"I can't believe you made this," the girl exclaimed, slipping into the hockey jersey Isaac had bestowed upon her.
"I didn't want to say anything in case I didn't make the cut, but you're looking at the new center for the Belleville Bulldogs," he proudly declared, puffing out his chest. "It suits you better, Fabray. Now you can come cheer me on at the games."
The navy-blue hockey jersey, adorned with vibrant yellow details, showcased a skillfully drawn bulldog on the front. Isaac's last name, 'Hargrave,' and the number seven were elegantly inscribed on the back.
"Why the number seven?" Lucy, a shy smile playing on her lips, inquired, though she had a hunch about the reason. She wanted to hear it from her crush's own words.
Isaac scratched his neck, a slight blush coloring his cheeks. "It's your favorite number, isn't it? The number of perfection in the Bible. I thought you'd like it," he confessed with a heartfelt sincerity.
"Isaac, honey, we have to go." Sophia's voice carried a subtle urgency, a reminder of the impending departure. Her son nodded and approached to bid farewell to Judy and Russell. With deliberate gentleness, he turned to his best friend, his expression a mixture of fondness and an underlying sadness, and opened his arms in a gesture of embrace.
"I'll miss you," Lucy whispered, her voice carrying an undertone of vulnerability as she hugged him tightly, finding solace in the warmth of his presence and burying her head in his chest.
"Me too, princess. Me too. But I'll call you once we get to New York,"
Then, in a surprising and poignant gesture, Isaac reached for the golden cross hanging around his neck. With a deliberation that caught the attention of the onlookers, he placed the cherished item into Lucy's hands.
"Isaac, what are you doing? It's yours. I can't accept it." She shook her head, attempting to return the item, but he insisted.
"Take it. I want you to have it. It's a piece of me, so you won't forget. Whenever you look at it, remember that you have a friend who cares about you, even if he's miles away."
Lucy's eyes welled up with tears as she accepted the golden cross, holding it tightly. "I don't know what to say..."
"You don't have to say anything, just keep it safe," Isaac said, a mischievous smile playing on his lips. "Now, promise me you'll wear it when you need a little extra strength or when you're missing me."
"I promise," she whispered, holding the cross close to her heart. Isaac reluctantly let go of Lucy, giving her one final reassuring smile. "I'll see you soon, princess. Call you when we get there. I love you, Luce."
As he walked towards the waiting car, the girl stood rooted to the spot, the golden cross cradled in her hands. The resonant hum of the car engine starting filled the air, and with a fleeting wave from the window, her best friend was gone.
Russel put a comforting hand on her daughter's shoulder. "He'll come back, baby girl. He always does."
"Yeah," Lucy nodded, a mix of sadness and longing in her eyes, replaying in her mind the image of Isaac's charming smile. "I'm really going to miss him." she admitted, a genuine ache in her heart as she watched the car disappear into the distance.