Page 24 of A Simple Reminder

“Exactly! I mean, he’s richandridiculously hot—it’s like hitting the jackpot.”

I freeze in place, my stomach twisting as I realize she’s talking about Liam. Peeking cautiously, I see her spinning lazily in her chair, one leg crossed over the other, twirling a strand of her hair around her finger like it’s a reflex.

A burst of laughter escapes her, sharp and self-assured, and I shrink further into my hiding spot. “Oh, absolutely, it’s on purpose,” she purrs into the phone. “You think I don’t know how to get a man’s attention? Trust me, it’s an art… and I’mverygood at it.”

My stomach churns at her words, an uncomfortable knot tightening in my gut. This isn’t just casual banter; she’s scheming. The thought of her planning to seduce Liam sends a wave of unease through me—an unfamiliar, unwelcome feeling I’m not ready to admit to. I debate whether to confront her or retreat quietly. Either way, it feels deeply unprofessional.

Should I tell him about this? But then again, it might just be a girl with a harmless crush confiding in a friend. And honestly, who wouldn’t have a crush on Liam? He’s… Well, Liam.

No, I’ll keep this to myself for now—at least until I have more reason to speak up. Besides, what if she denies it outright or, worse, twists it to make me look petty or jealous?

And why do I even care? I’ve been adamant about leaving the past where it belongs. Liam isn’t mine—he hasn’t been for a long time. I’ve made it clear I don’t want anything more. So why does the thought of her even trying to seduce him make my stomach twist like this?

After I picked up my bag, I laid out all my ideas to Brian, and to my relief, he loved them all. He gave us a tour of the rooms and common areas; everything looked incredible. The suits will be so fun to decorate. The deluxe suits will occupy the thirty-fifth floor, with breathtaking views of Central Park and the Manhattan skyline.

We chose the beds and ordered them for all bedrooms. Let me just say that I’d happily spend my last living moments on one of those insanely expensive beds. The ones I chose are plush and incredibly comfortable, and the linens have a higher thread count thanIcan count.

It finally feels like I made the right decision to resign and start working for myself. That’s not something I usually admit, but this time, I’m actually proud of myself. This is what I’m supposed to do, and I took the leap—even when it scared me. Maybe taking more risks like this is exactly what I need.

“Don’t forget your phone,” Liam says, handing me the cell I left on the table.

As I take it, our hands brush—a fleeting touch, barely there, but enough to send a small jolt through me. My fingers tighten around the cool device, grounding me. I force a smile, but tension coils beneath my skin, taut and restless.

The weight of the day settles heavier now, pressing down on my shoulders, seeping into my limbs. This morning, I moved with purpose, with energy. Now, everything feels slower, heavier—my mind still spinning, a tangle of impressions and mental notes.

Liam doesn’t let the silence stretch. His voice is quieter now, gentler. “I wanted to ask you this earlier. Ishouldhave. How’s your dad doing?”

Memories of my last meeting with Dad rush back, and I freeze momentarily, my smile fading as I struggle to compose myself. It’s a sore subject, especially talking about it with Liam.

“He’s…” I start, my voice catching slightly. “He’s doing well,” I manage to say, forcing a smile that doesn’t quite reach my eyes. Liam seems to understand that I’m not entirely speaking the truth, but he doesn’t push further, respecting my boundaries.

He steps closer, stopping just an arm’s length away. “Well, no matter what has happened between us, or whether I’m your boss or not, I’m always here. Remember that,” he says softly, his tone laced with genuine concern.

I catch the subtle movement of his hand, his fingers flexing and curling into a fist, as though he’s unsure what to do with them. For a moment, I wonder if he wants to reach out—to touch my arm, my shoulder, something—but holds himself back.

The warmth in his tone wraps around me, offering comfort I didn’t realize I needed. Yet, at the same time, it terrifies me. What if I lean into it? What if it pulls me deeper into a place I’ve been so determined to avoid? My chest tightens, caught in the push and pull between craving his reassurance and dreading what it might unravel—the carefully built walls I’ve fought to keep standing.

I nod, swallowing past the lump in my throat, grateful for…well, just him. Simply him.

As soon as I step into my apartment, I sink down onto the sofa. Exhaustion envelops me, wrapping me up in a cocoon. Adeline is off on an after work with her colleagues, I’m all alone. The weight of the day presses down on me. Yesterday, my dad didn’t remember me, each moment of forgotten recognition digging a bottomless void in my heart. And today, Liam remembered what I told him about Dad—his consideration slicing through the thick fog that keeps building, cutting through the numbness I've tried to maintain just to function each day.

Tears start to slip down my cheeks, uncontrolled and relentless. Gosh, why am I crying? I’m tired of it. Sitting here in the dim light of my living room, tears streaking down my face over things I can’t change or fix—it’s pathetic. The weight of my own powerlessness suffocates me, pressing against my chest like a vice. I hate it. I hate being so consumed by emotions I can’t control, so swept away by a storm I didn’t ask for.

With a shaky breath, I pull one of Adeline’s mother’s handmade cushions to my chest, hugging it tightly. I try to pour all my sorrow into the soft fabric, wishing it could absorb more than just my tears. But it’s not enough. There’s only one person who might help, a voice that can reach across the miles and touch the ache directly.

With trembling fingers, I reach for my phone and dial Leora’s number. It rings, and then her voice, ever so warm, fills the silence of my apartment. “Hey, my love.”

“Hey,” I choke out, my voice a mere whisper of its usual tone.

“Soph? What’s wrong?” Her voice is instantly alert, filled with concern.

“I don’t know, at the moment, everything,” I confess, my voice breaking. “Dad’s getting worse, and it’s like I’m losing him piece by piece. And then there's the pressure of work and Liam...” I trail off, not continuing that particular sentence.

“I’m so sorry, Sophie.” Leora’s soft sigh travels through the phone, her empathy palpable. “Your dad is strong, so strong, and he loves you more than anything in this world.”

“I know, but he doesn’t remember that he loves me,” I reply as another tear trails down my cheek.

“Deep down, he does. I promise you he does. But it’s a cruel disease. It steals memories on bad days, but not love. It’s still there, Sophie, even if he can’t express it.”

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