14. Graham
GRAHAM
T he air hangs heavy tonight, like even the wind has decided to hold its breath. I sit on the edge of my bed, staring at the floor, my thoughts circling the same problem over and over.
Sophie.
Her face when I made that careless comment is burned into my mind. The way she froze, her expression cracking just enough to let the hurt show before she hid it again. I can’t stop replaying it, the sound of my own words ringing in my ears like a hammer against steel.
Rich kid.
I didn’t mean it like that, not the way it came out. But there’s no erasing it now, and the damage is done.
I drop my head into my hands, frustration coiling in my chest.
Why does she affect me like this?
I’ve spent years keeping my distance from people, building walls so high and thick that no one can get close. It’s safer that way—for me and for them.
But Sophie has a way of slipping through the cracks.
It’s not even the way she challenges me, pushing back when most people would let it go. It’s her everything. Her presence is magnetic, drawing me in despite all the alarms in my head telling me to stay away.
And I can’t let that happen.
Letting Sophie in means risking everything I’ve worked so hard to protect. My anonymity. My past. My secret.
Because how can I pursue anything with her and not tell her the truth? How can I look her in the eye and pretend I’m just some small-town landscape architect when I’m so much more than that—and yet not that at all?
I push to my feet, pacing the room as the weight of it presses down on me.
This can’t continue. I have to fix what I said, make things right between us, and then figure out how to keep my distance.
Even if it kills me to do it.
I stop by the flower shop that evening, the hum of crickets filling the cool air as I park my truck. The lights are still on inside, casting a warm glow through the windows.
As I step inside, the familiar scent of flowers greets me, but it doesn’t ease the knot of tension in my chest. Sophie is by the counter, working on her iPad and scribbling on her planner as her back is to me, but she stiffens when she hears the door and sees me.
“Graham,” she says without turning around, her voice cold. “What are you doing here?”
I hesitate, and the words I’ve practiced on the drive over suddenly feel inadequate.
“I came to apologize,” I say finally.
She turns to face me, her arms crossed, her expression unreadable. “Apologize for what, exactly?”
“For what I said yesterday,” I say, meeting her gaze. “It was out of line.”
She lets out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. “You think?”
I step closer, but she holds up a hand, stopping me in my tracks.
“Don’t,” she says sharply. “I don’t need your apology, Graham. And I definitely don’t need you anywhere near me.”
Her words are like a slap, but I don’t back down. “Sophie, I didn’t mean it the way it sounded?—”
“Then how did you mean it?” she snaps, her eyes blazing. “Because from where I’m standing, it sounded like you think I’m just some spoiled rich girl who’s never worked a day in her life.”
“That’s not—” I start, but she cuts me off.
“You don’t know anything about me,” she says, her voice trembling. “You don’t know what it was like growing up in Bardstown. My parents and Mia, Sam, and I worked hard for everything we had. I’ve worked for everything I have, Graham. Everything.”
Her words slice through me, each one heavier than the last.
“I know,” I say softly, but it sounds weak, even to my own ears.
“No, you don’t,” she says, shaking her head. “And you know what? I don’t need you to. I don’t need you to understand me or like me, or even work with me. I’ll figure it out on my own.”
“Sophie,” I try again, but she doesn’t look at me.
“Just go,” she says, her voice quieter now but no less firm. “Please.”
I stand there for a moment, the weight of her words settling over me like a storm cloud.
And then I do the only thing I can.
I stay.
She looks up at me, still sitting there, and I can see the hesitation in her eyes before she finally speaks. “Why aren’t you leaving?”
“I’m tired of this back and forth between us, Sophie, and I’m always the one at fault, so today, I want to fix things.”
She looks at me like she wants to say something but just shakes her head and continues with her work. And I don’t budge.
Sophie doesn’t look at me again after she tells me to go, her focus locked on the iPad as she works.
The shop feels quieter than usual, the soft rustle of leaves and the occasional hum of the air conditioner filling the space. I lean against the wall near the door, crossing my arms as I watch her.
She’s trying to pretend I’m not here, but the tightness in her movements gives her away. Sophie is always so deliberate, so confident in the way she does things. But tonight, there’s a hesitance to her actions, like my presence is throwing her off balance.
And I hate that I’m the cause of it.
I stay where I am, letting the silence stretch between us, unsure how to break it without making things worse.
Then I hear it—the faint patter of rain against the windows.
It starts slowly, but within minutes, it builds into a steady rhythm—the kind of downpour that soaks you to the bone in seconds.
Sophie finally glances up, her expression blank as she looks toward the door. “I’m done here,” she says shortly, grabbing her bag.
“You can’t go out in that,” I say, gesturing toward the rain.
She doesn’t respond, her jaw tightening as she slings the strap of her bag over her shoulder.
“Wait it out,” I try again, my tone firmer this time. “You’ll get soaked.”
She turns to me, her eyes cold. “I can’t stand being in the same place as you right now, Graham.”
The words hit me square in the chest, but I don’t let it show. “Fine,” I say tightly, stepping aside to let her pass. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
She pushes the door open, the bell jangling sharply, and steps into the rain without hesitation. I watch as she crosses the parking lot, her silhouette blurred by the downpour.
And then I see it—her car.
The left front tire is completely flat.
I shake my head, letting out a frustrated sigh as I grab my jacket and step outside. The rain hits me like a wall, cold and unrelenting, soaking through my shirt in seconds.
Sophie stands by her car, staring at the tire like she’s willing it to fix itself.
“You’ve got a flat,” I call out, my voice barely carrying over the sound of the rain.
She looks up at me, her expression defiant. “I know.”
I walk closer, shoving my hands into my pockets. “Do you have a spare?”
“Yes.”
“Then let me help.”
“No,” she snaps, shaking her head. “I’ll figure it out. You don’t have to do everything, Graham.”
I exhale sharply, trying to keep my patience. “Sophie, you can’t fix a tire in this weather. Just let me take you home.”
“I’ll call Mia,” she says stubbornly, pulling out her phone.
I clench my jaw, the frustration building as she dials. I watch her for a moment longer, then turn on my heel and head back to my truck.
But as I start the engine, something stops me.
I glance in the rearview mirror, watching as Sophie crouches beside the car, clearly struggling to figure out what to do. Why can’t she just call for help?
With a growl of frustration, I kill the engine and step back into the rain.
I’ve had enough. The rain comes down harder as Sophie kneels by her car, fumbling with the jack, her hair clinging to her face in wet strands. She doesn’t see me coming until I’m standing right in front of her.
“Sophie!” I shout. The downpour has soaked me to the bone, and I’m so frustrated I can barely think straight.
She doesn’t even look up. “Go away, Graham. I told you I don’t need your help.”
I crouch beside her, my voice sharp. “What are you doing?”
“Fixing my tire,” she snaps, struggling to get the jack in place.
“In the middle of a storm? With no gloves, no proper tools, and no idea what you’re doing?” I bark, grabbing the jack from her hands.
She yanks it back, glaring at me through the rain. “I can handle it!”
“No, you can’t!” I snap, my frustration boiling over. “You don’t know what you’re doing, and you’re going to hurt yourself again. You really are a spoiled rich kid, aren’t you? Thinking you can just figure it out because nothing’s ever been hard for you!”
I haven’t even finished my statement before I know I have crossed a line.
Sophie’s face twists in anger, her wet hair plastered to her cheeks. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me,” I say, louder than I intended. “You’re reckless and stubborn and don’t think things through! Like with the glass at the shop, you act first and deal with the consequences later.”
Her eyes blaze, and she stands up, fists clenched at her sides. “I am not a spoiled rich kid, Graham! And you don’t get to talk to me like that, like you know me!”
“Because I don’t,” I fire back. “You keep pretending like you’ve got it all figured out, but you’re out here in the middle of a storm trying to fix a tire with no clue what you’re doing! You think that’s normal? You think that’s smart?”
“I’m doing the best I can!” she yells, her voice cracking.
Her words hit me like a punch to the gut, and for a second, I don’t know what to say. The rain keeps pounding, soaking us both as we stand there, glaring at each other.
I take a step closer, my jaw tight. “And this is your best?”
“Yes, Graham!” she yells, her hands shaking. “This is my best! Because people like you never see past the surface! You don’t know how hard I’ve worked, how much I’ve sacrificed to get where I am! And maybe it’s not perfect, but at least I’m trying!”
Her voice breaks on the last word, and for a moment, I see it—how much I’ve hurt her, how much she’s carrying.
And then she turns back to the car, crouching again like she’s determined to prove me wrong.
That’s it.
Without thinking, I grab her waist and lift her off the ground.
“ Graham! ” she shrieks, pounding her fists against my chest as I carry her bridal style. “ Put me down! ”
“Not happening,” I growl, marching back toward the flower shop.
“You’re insane!” she yells, kicking her legs, but I don’t let go.
“And you’re reckless,” I bite back, shoving the door open and setting her down inside.
She whirls around, her chest heaving as she glares at me, her face flushed with anger. “What is wrong with you?”
“What’s wrong with me?” I shout, stepping closer. “What’s wrong with you? You cut your hand picking up glass, and now you’re out in the pouring rain trying to fix a tire you have no clue how to handle! What are you trying to prove?”
“I don’t have to prove anything to you!” she yells, her voice trembling with fury.
“Clearly, you do!” I shout back, the words flying out before I can stop them.
She takes a step closer, her eyes blazing. “You’re unbelievable! You act like you’re so perfect, like you’ve got it all figured out, but you don’t know me, Graham. You don’t know anything about me!”
“And you drive me crazy!” I yell, my voice cracking.
The words hang in the air, both of us frozen as they sink in.
Her breathing is ragged, her lips parted as she stares up at me. My heart is pounding so hard it feels like it might burst, and I don’t know if it’s from the shouting or the way her eyes are locking with mine now, softer, searching.
I step closer, my gaze dropping to her lips, and she doesn’t move away.
The tension crackles between us, electric and overwhelming, drawing us closer without either of us realizing it. This is precisely why I’ve been shuffling back and forth with her; I knew it, could feel it, could sense it from day one.
From the moment I saw her at the café with Mia, I felt a strong pull toward Sophie, and I could feel it in my bones just how difficult it would be to stay away from her. I made everything worse by agreeing to work with her on Riley’s wedding. Being this close to her and not knowing if I can have her is the most excruciatingly painful feeling ever.
Sophie maintains eye contact with me, her chest heaving and her clothes completely wet. She might end up getting sick, and it’s all because she’s stubborn.
“You could catch a cold,” I say.
“That’s none of your business. I can take care of myself.” Her voice comes out barely a whisper, amplifying the already existing tension between us.
I’m stuck between fueling my desire for her or maintaining my distance, and it’s so hard. I cannot deny just how badly I want Sophie. It feels like the two of us have been doing this dance for ages, and this is the tipping point.
“Sophie.” I inch closer to her, raising my hand slowly until it’s resting on her cheek. I see the heat rush to her skin at my touch, and it makes me feel good.
“Graham, don’t. We can’t,” she whispers, and I shake my head. I place my free hand on her other cheek, both of my hands now cupping her beautiful face.
“Why can’t we?”
“I don’t want you to do something you would end up regretting,” she says.
“I would never regret doing anything with you. You have no idea how hard it’s been staying away from you.”
The look of uncertainty disappears in her eyes, replaced with yearning and desire. I know she feels the exact pull I think right now, and I can’t keep stopping myself; I’m going to kiss her. I move closer to her, our lips inches away from each other. Just a slight bend, and I would finally claim her lips.
And then the sound of shattering glass jolts us both.
I turn sharply to see a broken vase on the floor, one of the shop’s many bouquets finally succumbing to the weight of its soggy stems.
Sophie takes a step back, her arms wrapping around herself as if to shield herself from what almost happened between us.
The rain has slowed to a steady drizzle, tapping against the shop’s windows as I bend down to pick up the broken vase pieces scattered on the floor. The tension in the air is as thick as ever; Sophie is standing a few feet away with her arms crossed, watching me like she’s not sure whether to yell at me again or leave.
I toss the larger shards into the trash, brushing my hands off on my jeans. “Come on,” I say, my voice quieter now, though it still carries an edge. “I’ll take you home.”
She hesitates, her eyes narrowing. “I’m fine. I can?—”
“Enough, Sophie,” I cut her off, meeting her gaze firmly. “The rain hasn’t stopped, and your car isn’t going anywhere with that flat. Just let me take you home.”
For a moment, I think she’s going to argue again, but then she lets out a sharp breath and grabs her bag.
“Fine,” she mutters, brushing past me.
The drive to Mia’s house is silent, the kind of silence that feels louder than any words.
Sophie stares out the window, her arms folded tightly across her chest, her posture stiff and closed off. I keep my hands on the wheel, my eyes on the road, but the weight of her presence beside me is impossible to ignore.
The rain continues to drizzle, the wipers swishing back and forth as the headlights cut through the dark.
I want to say something, to fix the mess I’ve made, but every time I open my mouth, the words die before they can leave.
What can I say that will make this better?
“I didn’t mean it,” I say finally, my voice low.
She doesn’t respond, doesn’t even look at me.
“I was frustrated,” I continue, gripping the wheel tighter. “And I said something I shouldn’t have.”
Still nothing.
The knot in my chest tightens, but I force myself to keep going. “You’re not spoiled, Sophie. I know that. I see how hard you work. I just?—”
“Save it,” she says, her tone sharp but quiet. “I don’t want to hear it right now.”
I nod, my jaw clenching as I focus on the road ahead.
When we pull up to Mia’s house, Sophie unbuckles her seatbelt without a word.
“Thanks for the ride,” she says flatly, opening the door.
“Sophie—”
She pauses, one foot on the pavement, but she doesn’t look back.
“I’m sorry,” I say again, my voice softer this time.
She hesitates before stepping out of the truck, shutting the door behind her without another word.