Chapter 16
CHAPTER 16
WILL
I glance over at Sophie, who’s looking peaceful as ever against the couch cushions. The messy bun in which she gathered her hair earlier is falling apart, tendrils of golden locks falling across her elegant cheekbones. I resist the urge to sweep them away.
She seems more frail like this. More vulnerable. But I know it’s only an illusion, because this woman is anything but weak. Yet, now that she needs me, there’s a driving force surging from my chest that wants to protect her at all costs.
My phone vibrates, prompting me to take it out for the first time since I walked into the house.
Ryan
Everything okay? What’s going on?
Will
Sophie’s sick. So are her girls. I’m sticking around to help out
Ryan
Will, that’s not part of your job description.
Ryan
I think you should come back to the office
Will
I won’t fall behind on any of my other clients, I promise
Will
But I have to do this
A cloud of fear gathers around my sternum, weighing down the elation of being this close to Sophie. I know I’m losing points in Ryan’s esteem of me; he’s probably wondering why I would act like this for a new client. But I can’t let Sophie fend on her own. I won’t.
I’m done running away.
Despite Sophie’s nap earlier, her face is pale and drawn from exhaustion. The bags under her eyes seem to grow heavier with each passing moment. I can’t help but keep checking on her, driven by an uncontrollable need to be there for her in any way I can. “Hey, you okay?” I ask gently as I hand her the Advil she requested.
“As okay as you can get like this,” she groans. “Thanks for this.” She swipes the Advil almost greedily from my palms.
“Is there anything else I can do for you? A blanket? A pillow?” My words are like a knee-jerk reaction trying to keep me occupied now that all three kids are napping. Both girls fell asleep before they reached the midpoint of Moana , just like Sophie, and Julian has been peacefully napping in his room for the last hour or so.
Sophie smiles weakly, shaking her head. “No, I’m fine. Really.”
“Alright,” I concede, settling back onto the couch. I resist the urge to sit right next to Sophie and stroke her glossy golden hair in the same way I’ve seen her do to her daughters today.
Now that she knows I don’t talk to Matt anymore, her attitude seems to have changed. Either that, or it’s whatever sickness she’s caught that’s softening her resolve to despise me. I silently hope it’s the former.
Sophie rubs her temples, her fingers tracing circles around her tired eyes. “You know, I’m kind of getting the same vibes from when you used to come over and we’d all get high as a kite.” She chuckles softly. I know exactly what she’s talking about. The way we’re all lying here, without any energy, is very similar to those days. The days before Matt and Sophie had no one else to care and love except each other. The days before Matt broke both of our hearts.
Okay, I’m exaggerating. I’m well aware that Sophie’s heart was torn apart into much tinier pieces than mine.
Still—finding the man I loved and respected like a brother, the man I’d known since we were born—in bed with a complete stranger, his pregnant wife running out of the hallway in tears, while his two little girls were asleep at home … it tore something out of me that I don’t know if I’ll ever get back.
“You’re right.” I chuckle. “But this is better company.” I take a look at both her daughters, who are sleeping soundly despite the sheen of sweat on both their foreheads.
Sophie leans back and lifts an eyebrow, her eyes shut. “Really? An overtired mom and her kids who all caught a stomach bug? That’s your idea of good company?” She scoffs. “You need to get out more. Maybe find an actual girlfriend you don’t kick to the curb.” Her tone is teasing instead of condescending, for a change. Something flutters in my chest.
“I’m working on it,” I reply with a sigh.
“And friends, maybe,” she continues, although her voice is slurring. She’s drifting to sleep. “Try to make better ones this time around.”
Her dig at Matt and the quality of his character brings me back to the first time I got a hint that something wasn’t quite right about him. We had spent the evening huddled together in Matt and Sophie’s tiny apartment, the air thick with the smell of weed and the sound of laughter. There was a random girl perched next to me on the couch—my ‘girl of the day,’ as Sophie liked to call them—as I tried to balance my attention between her flirtatious advances and the game controller in my hand.
At first, everything was fine. The four of us were having fun playing Smash Bros , couple against couple, right up until I KO’ed Sophie right out of the stratosphere.
Matt smashed his controller hard against the table with an angry grunt. “Damn it, Sophie,” he spit out.
Sophie laughed, momentarily blinding me to everything else in the room, my date included. Nothing in the entire world can rival that sound, not even now. “Will got me good,” she said through her laughter. My date and I laughed along, amused by Matt’s soreness at losing.
“Why can’t you ever make an effort in this fucking game?” Matt replied through gritted teeth, and we stopped laughing, the sound replaced by awkward silence.
My eyes immediately zoomed in on Sophie, who frowned in annoyance. “Oh, come on, you know I suck at Smash ,” she replied in a teasing tone. She then turned to my date. “Leanne gets me, right?” Oh, right. Her name was Leanne.
But before Leanne could respond, Matt muttered under his breath: “It’s not funny, you?—”
“ Okay , how about we do something else?” I interrupted just before he could say what he’d been about to say, pushing him in the shoulder in what looked like a playful manner from the outside. But I shoved hard enough that Matthew knew I wasn’t playing.
Matt rolled his eyes, and both Sophie and Leanne laughed it off. And pretty soon we were playing something else. But I can’t remember what else we did that afternoon, because all I could think about was the seething rage boiling under my skin. Sophie was nothing but kind and caring towards Matt, and this was how he repaid her? With blatant disrespect?
I couldn’t stand for this. Sophie was a queen— is a queen—and she always deserved to be treated like one.
So later that day, when Leanne and Sophie were preparing something for dinner in the kitchen, I took Matt into his and Sophie’s room to confront him about it.
“Matt, that was unacceptable.” I remember my voice being tight with frustration. “You can’t speak to Sophie like that.”
“Whoa, chill, man,” Matt said, raising his hands in mock surrender. “It’s not that serious. Anyway, she laughed it off. We were just playing a game.”
But it wasn’t just a game, not even to Sophie. I’d seen a glint of hurt in her eyes just before I was able to interrupt Matt.
I got closer to him, making him back away into the room. “You said back then that you were going to treat her well. Remember?” My tone was icy cold, a hint of menace in my words. “I’m holding you to it. You’d better believe it.” Matt’s promise to me when we met Sophie—that he’d treat her like a queen—was the only reason I was relatively okay with not getting to be the one to win her heart.
“Alright, alright,” Matt conceded, holding up his hands defensively. “I got it. Geez. Since when are you such a killjoy? Anyway, shouldn’t you be paying attention to that hot piece of ass you brought here? You’re not gotta get laid by spending all your attention on me. Much less on Sophie.”
I’d brushed it off then, the way he spoke about Leanne. But I shouldn’t have. I should have seen that as a sign of how he viewed women. He was my best friend for three decades, for crying out loud. How I didn’t realize his true colours earlier is beyond me.
I realize now, with a lurch, that maybe I was too busy numbing my senses to truly take notice of anything uncomfortable.
As I watch Sophie’s eyes flutter closed again, I begin to wonder if Matt spoke of my dates around her the same way he did with me. If he did, I can’t fault her for always having walls up around me. She probably believed that’s how I spoke of them around Matt, and that Matt was merely reflecting that language back to her.
I can see how it looked from the outside, that I was some sort of conniving playboy or Casanova. But I didn’t move from one woman to the next because I lacked any respect for them, or because I wanted to lead them on. I tried so hard to make a connection. With every single woman I met. But every time I tried, they were outshone by my best friend’s girl.
Because not one of them could compare to her.