Page 66 of A Simple Reminder

My chest tightens with a strange sense of pride, and I’m not entirely sure why. If she’s jealous, that means there’s something there. Something more than just anger.

I swallow, willing myself to listen to her words instead of watching the way her lips part and press together. Memories of that night surge back with painful clarity—her body pressed against mine, the way her breath hitched every time I touched her.

I take a step closer, gauging her reaction. She’s still tense, arms wrapped tightly around herself, her jaw set, but her eyes flicker with something I can’t quite name. “Sophie,” I say softly, letting her name linger between us, hoping to break through the wall she’s putting up. “There’s nothing between me and Lilly. You know that, don’t you?”

Her gaze finally locks onto mine, her eyes narrowing slightly, doubt clouding them like a storm barely contained. There’s hurt there too, raw and unhidden, swimming just beneath the surface. “You don’t need to explain,” she whispers, but her voice wavers, betraying the words. “It’s none of my business.”

“Isn’t it?” I counter, my voice dropping, low and firm. “Because the way you’re looking at me right now says otherwise.”

She falters, her arms tightening around herself. “I’m not here to have this conversation,” she mutters, looking away.

“Then why are you here?” I ask, pressing gently, watching her reaction. “You came storming in like you had something to say. So why don’t you tell me why you’re here?”

Her arms drop as she takes a step forward, her jaw set. “You have no right to be angry with me, or corner me, telling me howI will be back," she snaps, her voice layered with frustration and something else she’s not saying.

I ignore the latter part for now, I mean, she is back, isn’t she?

“I’m not angry with you,” I reply, steadying myself as she steps closer.

“Yes, you are,” she retorts, her voice rising. “You were practically lecturing me three hours ago! If that wasn’t anger, then what was it?”

I let out a long breath, my chest tightening with the weight of everything unsaid. The anger’s still there, sure, but it’s not aimed at her. I don’t want to be angry with her.

I look at her, my gaze softening. “That wasn’t anger, Sophie.”

Her face hardens, but there’s a flicker of doubt behind her eyes. “Then what was it?” she asks, her arms folding once more, this time in a protective gesture.

I close the gap between us, the tension crackling like a live wire ready to ignite at any moment, and let my voice soften as I look deep into her eyes. “Sophie,” I begin, my voice almost a whisper. “I care about you. I want you to succeed, to become what you’re meant to be—the person I know you’re destined to become. But for that, you need to believe in yourself, stand up for yourself, and not let Jared or anyone else take advantage of your kindness.”

She lets out a frustrated groan, throwing her hands up in exasperation. “Ugh! Why do you have to be like this?”

“Like what?”

“Like before!” she blurts out and I’m left more confused than ever.

“I don’t understand,” I say, genuinely confused.

“Can’t you just act like a normal boss? Like…not someone who pretends to care but doesn’t actually swoop in to fix everything? Like someone who throws work at me one second, and the next looks at me like I’m the only thing you’ve ever wanted." Her voice trembles as she takes another step closer, her breath hitching. “It’s exhausting, Liam. You’re exhausting.”

“Exhausting?” I ask, eyebrows raised, but the air between us is charged. I can feel her anger, but I can also feel something else—something that's been there for a long time, unspoken but ready to burst through the surface.

“Yes!” she snaps, her chest rising and falling with the effort to contain her frustration. “Because you make it hard. You make it hard to…to—” She pauses, eyes flashing as she struggles to find the words.

“To what?” I ask. I can see her pulse racing at the base of her neck. Her breath falters, and I know she’s feeling this, too. The tension. The pull. All the unspoken things between us. Everything she means to me.

“To stay focused,” she finally blurts out, her voice cracking, her hands balled into fists at her sides.

I can't help the small, knowing smile that forms on my lips. “Focused on work or something else?”

Her lips part, but she doesn’t respond. Her eyes dart to my mouth, and it’s all I need to see.

“I looked you up, you know. After we... after we ended things. You were always out, partying. Women around you, alcohol, probably other stuff too and?—”

“I don’t do drugs.” I say with such a finality, it could cut through steel. I don't do that anymore. Never again.

She’s not just talking about the rumors she’s heard—she’s talking about what she’s seen, the version of me I let everyone else believe in. But that’s not the man standing in front of her now. I’ve never really been that guy and I never will.

She’s silent, biting her lower lip, weighing whether to believe me or not. I can see the mistrust flickering in her eyes, a shield she’s built to protect herself, and it guts me in ways I didn’t even know I could feel.

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