Page 49 of A Simple Reminder

“It's my favorite restaurant, I told you, and I was in the mood for Italian,” I reply, keeping my voice light but inside, my thoughts are churning rapidly. “Then I spotted you two,” I glance between them, noting Sophie’s crossed arms. If this isn’t a date, why does my presence seem to bother her so much? And also, why is she so defensive?

I decide to stir the conversation a bit, directing my attention to Jared. “So, Jared, how's everything else going? Any new projects on the horizon?” My tone is casual but my eyes are sharp, scrutinizing his reaction closely. He shifts uneasily in his seat while tightening his hold on the napkin in his hands. “Yeah, a few things lined up. It’s good.”

“Good to hear,” I respond with a nod, taking a sip of my wine. I then turn my attention to Sophie. Her eyes are downcast, zeroing in on her pasta. Her expression unreadable. Driven by a mix of curiosity, and let’s be honest, audacity.

“What about you, Sophie? What are your plans after this?”

Her blue eyes snap up at my question, and I can see her visibly swallow before responding. “Don’t know yet, Liam. What about you? Back to Spain? France?” Her attempt to deflect the question with one of her own is apparent, but I'm not ready to let go just yet.

I hold her gaze. She’s the most talented and ambitious person I know; there’s no doubt she’ll have people lining up to book her once the project is complete. I’m making sure of it and I’ll be here to see it happen.

My fingers drum on the table. “Hmm, I haven’t decided yet. I’m enjoying New York; it feels like there’s still more for me here,” I say, keeping my tone casual, though my eyes stay fixed on hers. Her reaction is subtle—a slight tightening around her eyes as she pauses, her fork hovering mid-air, pasta twirling delicately around it. Her expression shifts—a mix of surprise and something else, maybe curiosity or uncertainty.

“You’re staying?” she asks, her voice softer than usual, almost hesitant.

“I think so. We’ll see,” I reply, my tone deliberately vague, though deep down, I know exactly why I’m staying—and who I would be staying for.

When my food arrives, the conversation turns to general work topics, but there's an undercurrent of tension that doesn’t go away. Of course, I’m the catalyst for this discomfort, but these two need to learn to be comfortable in the uncomfortable. Just like I have to every day.

Jared and Sophie share a look, one all too comfortable. My grip on the fork tightens, the metal cool and unforgiving against my skin. They both let out an awkward chuckle—a sound that grates on my nerves. It’s as if all the chatter in the restaurant has died down and all I can focus on is them. “Is something funny?” I ask.

The air shifts, the lightness vanishing in a heartbeat. Sophie’s laughter dies mid-breath, her lips parting slightly before pressing into a firm line. Her eyes fix on mine, unreadable—but sharp enough to cut. Why is she looking at me like that? She’s the one exchanging secretive glances with Jared, acting like I’m invisible. It’s rude and downright disrespectful. Manners clearly aren’t their strong suit.

I tear off a piece of bread, chewing slowly as I watch her. “So,” I say, swallowing and reaching for my wine, “what’s the deal with you two? Why did you break up?”

Sophie’s head snaps toward me, her cheeks blooming with color. “Liam!” she says my name like a warning shot.

Jared, caught off guard, fumbles for words. “Boss, I didn’t mention it because I wanted to keep things professional and I just—” He’s cut off as Sophie intervenes, “It’s none of your business.” Her shoulders draw tight as she speaks, but there’s a flicker of something fragile in the way she glances away, trying to collect herself. Embarrassment lingers in her expression, but she keeps it under a mask of frustration, her words meant to keep me at bay.

I’m so tired of those words, of being shut out. They trigger me. “Is it not? Are you not my employees?” I ask, “Shouldn’t I be concerned about potential disruptions in the workplace?”

Sophie's face hardens to ice. “This has nothing to do with work… We were just catching up as friends. You're making it into something it's not.” Her firm resolute tone cuts through the air.

I take a deep breath, the effort to hold back my rising frustration almost painful. My fists clench under the table, the weight of my overprotective instincts pressing hard against my better judgment. I know I need to rein it in, but the thought of her brushing me aside for him is like a splinter I can’t ignore.

Caring for someone while also respecting their independence and professional boundaries is a delicate balance. Yet, in my head, all the lines are hopelessly blurred.

“Can you please just let it go?”

Leaning back in my chair, I take a long sip of wine, the rich flavor barely registering. Can I let it go? My gaze drifts to Jared. He sits rigidly, his eyes wide and fixed on Sophie with a look of shock as if he's trapped in headlights and unsure where to turn next. The sight of his discomfort oddly doesn’t bring me any satisfaction; instead, it sharpens the ache of seeing Sophie so guarded, so closed off from me now.

I sigh, “Sure, I'll let it go for now.” Though it's clear neither of us is convinced

“Promise?” Sophie challenges.

Annoyed but compelled to reassure her, I respond firmly, “I always keep my word, Sophie.”

She raises an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. “Right. And how’s that meeting with Moretti coming along?” Her tone is pointed, the shift deliberate. It’s obvious she’s not just talking about business—she’s testing me.

Caught slightly off guard, I straighten up, reminded of the obligations I juggle. “Like I said, I’m working on it,” I’m not just going to get that meeting; I'm determined to prove her wrong—to prove that I keep my word. I’m not my young, stupid self anymore. “When I say something, I mean it. I don’t break my word,” I continue, my tone stern and sincere. Sophie meets my stare, her eyes etched with doubt. “Is that so?” she challenges, holding my gaze without flinching. We stare at each other, neither willing to look away first.

Jared, probably uncomfortable, tries to move the subject, “His work is amazing. It’s just a shame he doesn’t sell to private consumers.”

I straighten up, seizing the opportunity. “Actually, I have a piece.”

Sophie looks at me, her chin jutting out, “No, you don’t.”

“I do.”

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