Page 88 of A Simple Reminder

“Yes, we do,” I reply, a little too forcefully, but I can’t stop myself. The words are there, but they feel hollow now.

She shakes her head, her voice quieter, filled with so much pain that it makes my chest tighten. “I told you about my dad. I told you everything.” Tears fall again, and this time, she angrily wipes them away, as if trying to force them back inside. I try to reach for her hand, but she steps back, the distance between us growing unbearable.

“Anyway, it doesn’t matter,” she continues, her voice hardening with every word. “We live different lives, Liam. And I’m going back home soon. It wouldn’t have worked either way. So why drag this out? Why wait for the inevitable?”

And that’s when it happens. The wall I’ve been trying to hold up crumbles, and for the first time, I feel it all—the ache, the fear, the loss.

“I—” My voice cracks as I try to hold onto the remnants of my control. My hands tremble, and I want to fall to my knees, to beg her to stay, to take back everything she just said. But instead, I watch as she shuts me out, turning her back to me while she opens the door.

“You can’t just walk away from us like this.”

She doesn’t look back. “I already have.”

And that’s when I know—this is the moment. Everything we had, everything I thought we were, is slipping through my fingers, and there’s nothing I can do right now.

But as the door clicks shut behind her, sealing me on the outside of her world, one thing becomes clear: she needs time, and I’ll give it to her. I’ll give her everything she needs, even if it rips me apart in the process because walking away from her isn’t an option. Not for me. Not ever.

THIRTY-SIX

SOPHIE

PRESENT

My eyes sting with unshed tears as I replay everything he’s just told me, his words carving into me all over again. Reliving it—hearing it in his voice—feels like a wound being ripped open. But I’ve listened, every detail sinking in, and as much as it hurts, a tiny, barely-there part of me understands. I wouldn’t have back then—not at all—but now…now I see the cracks in him that I couldn’t see before.

I clear my throat, forcing the words out despite the tightness in my chest. “Was that the first time you did cocaine?” I ask, my voice barely steady. It’s not the question I want to ask most, but it’s the one I can manage right now. The real question—the one that terrifies me—is if it was the last time. That’s the fear that’s haunted me, the image of him wrapped up in situations I can barely stomach: drugs, money, women.

Seeing that woman on his lap… It hurt. But it wasn’t the worst part—not by a long shot. He explained that she’d been brought there by the investors and how she’d dropped down just minutes before I walked up the stairs. How uncomfortable he’d been, caught in a scene he didn’t want any part of.

“Yes,” he says quietly, his unwavering gaze only deepening my fear.

I take a shaky breath, feeling the weight of what I have to ask next. My voice trembles. “Was it the last?”

A shadow crosses his face, his jaw tightening as he flinches, the weight of regret etched into every line of his expression. My stomach knots, dread coiling tighter as I silently plead,Please say yes. Please.

He looks down, unable to meet my eyes. “No.”

The word slams into me, sharp and unforgiving. A hollow ache spreads like a crack splintering through glass.

I stand up slowly, numbness creeping over me because he hasn’t said anything else. Nothing. Just that single, devastatingno.It echoes between us, louder than any explanation he could give, a silent verdict on what our future could or couldn’t be. The ache digs deeper with every second, dragging me under, suffocating me. This is my hard limit. The one thing I can’t bend on, no matter how much I care for him. No matter how incredible he is. I’ve lived this life before, seen the destruction up close, and I refuse to go through it again. I can’t. I won’t. Not with him. Not with anyone.

It’s not fair,a small, desperate voice inside me whispers. But fairness doesn’t matter here. Self-preservation does.

He stands up, closing the distance between us in an instant. “Soph.” His voice is low, almost pleading, raw in a way I’ve never heard before. His hand reaches out, hesitant, as if he’s afraid to touch me but desperate not to let me go. “Please, let me explain.”

I cross my arms, my jaw tight as anger and hurt course through me, each beat of my pulse echoing in my ears. “Explain what, Liam? You know how I feel about this. I told you back then. I told you everything about my dad—I have no tolerance for this.” My voice cracks slightly, but I push through, swallowing hard as the words stick in my throat. “Are you an addict?”

His face hardens, as if I just struck him. Then, through gritted teeth, he spits out, “I’m not a drug addict.”

“Then what?” The words come out sharper than I intend, slicing through the air between us. I can’t hold back the frustration bubbling up, spilling out of me. “If you’re not, then what the hell is it?”

Frustration flashes in his eyes as he exhales sharply, his shoulders stiffening. “Will you just sit down and listen?” His voice is tight, teetering on the edge of control, his hand gesturing toward the seat with barely masked impatience.

But I don’t sit. I stand rooted to the spot, the distance between us feeling like a safety net. I need the option to escape if I have to. And as if sensing that, he stays standing too, his stance tense, like he’s bracing for a fight he’s not sure he can win.

“I'm not an addict. I've done it two times.” His voice is firm, but there's a strain beneath it. “Two times, Sophie. I didn’t enjoy it. But I thought I had to impress the investors and secure their support. I was young, and all I wanted was approval… Lucas’s approval, ammo Antoine’s approval. Hell, maybe even my own in some messed-up way.”

He drags a hand over his face, the motion slow, like he’s trying to wipe away the weight of his own words. “I thought that if I could bring in more investors, I’d prove myself. Show them I wasn’t just Lucas’s kid brother tagging along. But it wasn’t worth it. I didn’t evenwantto do it. And when Lucas found out…” His voice falters, his hand dropping to his side. “Let’s just say approval was the last thing I got.”

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