Chapter 8
Since running into Liam while on her disaster of a date, Sophie had mastered the art of avoidance. It wasn’t easy, considering Liam had the uncanny ability to be everywhere she didn’t want him to be. But she was nothing if not determined. For the past week, she’d timed her arrivals and departures from his studio with military precision, ensuring she never ran into him.
Was it childish? Well, duh. But it was necessary.
The last time she’d seen him, she’d been on a date.
Albeit a date that had gone from bad to utterly mortifying before she’d even had her first pint.
But even worse? Liam had witnessed the whole humiliating ordeal.
Well, wasn’t that just dandy? That really made her eager to dive back into the dating pool.
The worst part wasn’t even the date itself. Sure, it was awful, but she’d get over it. What really stung was that Liam, of all people, had been there.
Whatever. None of it mattered.
What mattered was getting the bar refinished and getting out of Liam’s studio before her defenses cracked. Before he said something in that quiet, patient way of his that made her want to forget why she was keeping her distance.
Brushing sawdust from her coveralls and cap, Sophie stepped back, inspecting the gleaming wood beneath her fingertips. With the sanding and repair of a small crack now finished, the next day she could apply the first coat of sealer. The multiple coats would take a week or more to cure but once they were, she would be finished for good. Then she wouldn’t have to worry so much about running into him. Obviously, she couldn’t avoid him forever but for now, it was best.
The plan was solid.
Sophie stood up straight, stretching out her back and arms. It had been a good day’s work, and she was on the home stretch. She stepped out from her dusty coveralls, then hung them on a coat hook on the door. Pleased with both her progress and flawless plan, she picked up her handbag and retrieved her phone and saw she’d missed several messages from her brother. No matter, she was on her way home now. She would get to the car and read them once she was seated. Right now, all she wanted was a hot shower and a drink. Whatever it was Keefe wanted had waited this long. She would deal with it when she got home.
She put her phone back in her purse and fished out her car keys. She opened the door—and stepped into six inches of snow.
Shit.
So that’s why Keefe had left so many messages. He was trying to warn her about the snowfall.
Now, Sophie, having grown up in New England, was no stranger to snow and getting around in it. However, Ireland, with all its charms and ravishing beauty, was quite different.
They didn’t have snowplows.
They didn’t even have snow tires.
Which meant she was stuck.
She fished out her phone again and tried calling her brother. No signal. Not that actually speaking with Keefe would have made any difference. If she was snowed in, then he was too.
Her stomach dipped. Damn it!
“Are you going to stand there and freeze or come inside?” called Liam from his front door.
She turned, already bracing herself, but it didn’t matter. One look at Liam, standing in the doorway, his gaze locked on hers like he saw every last thing she was trying to hide, and she knew avoidance wasn’t an option anymore.
Sophie trudged through the snow in her dusty work boots over to Liam. The falling snow was coming fast.
He held his arm out in case she felt she might slip. “Come on inside, love.”
“No, really, I’m covered in dust. I don’t want to get your house all messy. But could I use your phone? I need to call Keefe and I don’t have a signal.”
“Of course, you can. Come in.” Liam held the door open and stepped aside.
“No, thanks really, I’ll just?—”
“Just what? Sit in your car and freeze? Stay in that barren studio all night? Sophie for the love of Christ just come inside already. It’s only me. I won’t bite.”
It’s “only” him. Liam could never be that insignificant. And the man had a point. She wasn’t going anywhere in this weather. So much for that solid plan of avoidance. “Okay, thanks.”
Before stepping inside, she removed her cap and shook the sawdust from her hair, which now spilled over her shoulders. As she entered the warm house, she was greeted by the scent of a crackling fire.
“Just take your boots off and leave them there by the door.” Liam left her to remove her shoes and spoke over his shoulder as he disappeared inside the warm house. “I’ll tell you, I don’t remember a winter this cold before. This is?—”
“Fucking Baltic?” she called back finishing his sentence.
“Exactly.”
Once she had her boots off, she shook them off outside the door before placing them beside his on a small rug; she laid her cap on top of her boots, then made her way inside, taking in the warm, earthy tones that wrapped around her like a familiar embrace. Nothing matched, yet nothing clashed—pieces from one part of the world or another. It should have felt chaotic, but it felt lived-in, effortless. It felt like Liam. Cozy without being cluttered, inviting without trying too hard. Just like the man himself.
She found him in the kitchen behind the counter slicing fruit. He looked up from his work and smiled in greeting. “The phone is behind you on the wall.”
“Thanks.” She turned around and took the phone from the receiver on the wall and called her brother, who didn’t answer, so she left a message. Then she hung the phone back up and turned back to Liam. “I had no idea it was snowing like this.” She stood with her hands in her pockets, watching him slice an apple. He looked up and smiled at her. Suddenly she was reminded of what she must look like and she smoothed her hair. “Sorry, I’m such a mess.”
“Nonsense. You bring new meaning to the word chic.” She blushed and grinned which made him happy. “Are you hungry? I was just cutting myself some fruit and cheese here but I could cook.”
“No, that’s all right. I’m not hungry.” She stuffed her hands back inside her pockets and lied through her teeth. She was tired, thirsty, and starving to death.
“Why are you nervous?”
“I’m not.”
“Yes, you are,” he said with a knowing grin.
“No, I’m not!” she said with righteous indignation. Why did he have to know her so damn well?
“All right if you’re so comfortable then why are you swaying back and forth like a dashboard hula girl with your hands tucked away? Like it or not Soph, you’re stuck here, probably for the night so, I would suggest that you take a seat and chill out.”
“Fine.” She took her hands out from her pockets with a flourish then sat down on a stool at the counter and slouched in her seat.
There was no real reason—none she could think of or conjure up—why she shouldn’t be comfortable. She had always been easy-going with Liam. Things had always been so natural between them. “There. Happy now?”
No, he wouldn’t be happy until his best friend would in the very least look him in the eye for more than half a second, but this was a start. “How’s it going out there with your bar top?”
“I finished the sanding today. I did most of that by hand so it took longer but I think it’s worth it. Another two weeks tops and I’ll be out of your way.”
“Take all the time you need. You’re not in my way.” Liam sliced some apricot cheddar and arranged it on a small plate. “I bet you would like a shower. You’re free to use mine.”
He had her there. The kink in her neck screamed for a hot shower. “That would be really nice.”
He opened a drawer and pulled out a corkscrew. “Would you care for a glass of wine?”
“Actually, I’d kill for a brandy if you’ve got any.”
“It’s good to know your palate has moved beyond strawberry Quik .” Sophie’s nervous face instantly disappeared behind a laughing snort. There. Now she was relaxing. “Brandy it is. Do you want to take it with you? You could take a bath if you wanted and enjoy it there. I promise not to peek.”
Sinking into a hot bath sounded absolutely delightful and seeing as she was here for the night she might as well get comfortable. “If it wouldn’t be too much trouble.”
“Soph, the only thing causing me trouble is you walking on pins and needles around me, all right?”
“All right. Thank you,” she said with a small smile.
“What are friends for? You can use my robe. It’s hanging on the bathroom door. Everything you’ll need is in there.” He pointed in the direction of the bathroom. “Just look in the cupboard.”
He poured her a glass of brandy and she took it, saying thank you with another smile, then headed toward the bathroom. “Take your time. There’s only the one toilet though, so if I have to go, you’re going to have to hide yourself.”
“What?” she stopped short and spun around nearly spilling her drink.
Liam grinned. “I’m only joking. There’s another bathroom. Not that it’s ever been used. You’re my first houseguest.”
“Your first overnight houseguest you mean?”
“No, I mean that apart from my parents you’re the only one who’s ever been here.”
“Really? How long since you bought this place?”
“It’s been a few years now—more for a retreat, though. I didn’t really move in until recently.”
Sophie took a few steps closer to him. “Why did you move back?”
Liam gave a thoughtful look, one that she recognized very well. “It was just time to return home, you know?”
Whether she meant to, Sophie nodded and returned his thoughtful gaze. “Yeah,” she said slowly. “I know. Right, well, I’m going to take you up on that bath so…”
“Take whatever clothes you want from my bedroom closet and later I’ll wash your clothes for you if you like.”
Liam, ever the thoughtful one. “Thanks.”
Sophie padded her way across the thick carpeted living room where a hot wood fire burned inside a brick fireplace. She admired the warm, earthy tones of the room. He had a lovely home. It was so… Liam. She hadn’t ever been inside this house before now, but she knew it. Knew him. His presence was everywhere—the worn books on the shelf, the faint trace of his cologne, the quiet order that made her feel safe. It wrapped around her, familiar and steady, like coming home.
Sophie stepped into the bathroom, turned on the light, then shut the door behind her and leaned against it. Her shoulders sagged beneath the weight of the day—of the weeks, really.
She had tried so hard to keep her distance from Liam. To keep things simple. Safe. But here she was, stranded at his house for the night, with nothing but time and the ache of old feelings pressing in.
She padded across the floor to the bathtub and turned on the hot water. Steam quickly began to fill the room, curling around her like a cocoon. She slipped out of her clothes, slowly, each layer feeling heavier than the last. Naked, she caught her reflection in the mirror and hesitated.
There wasn’t much time—or energy—to pick herself apart, which was a relief. If she really let herself look too closely, she’d probably lock the door and never come out. She looked tired. Like someone who’d been fighting too long, trying to hold everything together with frayed string.
But Keefe had been right: Liam didn’t care. He never had. He looked at her like nothing had changed—like she was still the girl he’d loved once, only now with a few more cracks. And he saw right through them.
It terrified her.
It also comforted her more than she wanted to admit.
Maybe all her worries had been for nothing. Maybe.
But she wasn’t going anywhere. Not tonight. And maybe, just for a little while, she could let herself stop fighting. Let herself remember what it felt like to be wanted, not for what she could offer, or what she couldn’t give, but just for who she was.
She took a sip of brandy, letting the heat slide down her throat, then set the glass beside the tub and tested the water. It was perfect.
Sophie didn’t hesitate and sank into the warmth, letting it rise around her, softening all the places that had gone rigid with fear and doubt.
And for once, she didn’t push the feelings away.
* * *
Fresh from the tub, skin pink and warm, she was wrapped in him in another way. His clothes had always drowned her before, but now, she filled them out a little more—not enough to make them fit, but enough to notice. His sweatshirt hung loose on her frame, the sleeves swallowing her hands. His sweatpants pooled at her ankles, and his socks slipped with every step.
She emerged from the bathroom, relaxed from the hot bath and the last sip of brandy that had warmed her from the inside out. Her skin was still flushed from the heat, her damp hair clung to her neck. She kept her hands tucked inside the sleeves, fingers curled against the fabric, as if holding onto a piece of him.
For the first time in a long time, she was entirely at ease.
She made her way to his warm and inviting living room with its burgundy walls deep and rich, the large brick fireplace commanding attention. But it was the hearthstone that caught Sophie’s eye—the most beautiful tiles, intricate and colorful.
“Where did you get those tiles?”
“Turkey,” Liam said, leaning back against the arm of the couch. “I couldn’t tell you what town.”
“A meaningful trip?”
Liam huffed a laugh and shook his head. “It was awful.” He wiped a palm over the space between them, as if clearing the memory away. “Never again.”
“But you have the tiles.”
“They’re nice tiles.”
Sophie smirked. “Have you traveled a lot?”
“More than most, I’d say.” He took a sip of wine, considering. “Some of it was while I was in school. The rest was mostly for pleasure. I had an exhibition in Florence once—that was amazing, so I stayed longer. Learned a bit along the way, met other artists. But that’s done now. I’ve seen the other side of the world, and honestly? I wasn’t impressed.”
“So, your homebody side finally wore down the curious wanderer?”
“You could say that.”
A quiet moment stretched between them, the fire crackling softly. Then Sophie asked, “Did you ever marry anyone?”
Liam looked her square in the eye, his voice steady. “No.” He took a slow sip of wine, then set the glass down on the counter behind him. “How could I? I told you once that I wouldn’t ever marry any girl but you.”
Sophie grinned as the voice of a little boy saying those very words recalled in her memory. “Liam, we were seven when you said that.”
“You were seven. I was eight.”
She laughed, shaking her head. “I remember the first time we met. It was at Derrynane Beach, I was with my parents and Keefe. I was looking for seashells, not paying any attention to the water, and you saved me from walking straight into a rock ten times bigger than me.”
“And you got mad because I got you all wet,” Liam reminded her, smirking.
“Until you told me to ‘shut up and stop whining because a little gratitude wouldn’t hurt for saving your life.’” Sophie grinned at the memory. “And then I saw the rocks and felt terrible. So, then, of course, you being Liam, you dragged me back to crash your family picnic.”
“We spent nearly every day together that summer,” Liam said, his voice softer now.
“And every summer after that,” Sophie added. “Summer was always my favorite time of year—not because of the weather, but because it meant coming to Ireland. Every year, for two whole months, I was here. It was my favorite place.” She hesitated, then admitted, “I never quite fit in back home.”
“But you did here.”
She nodded. “Yeah, I did. And then I met you. And this place meant something even more… So, what about you? I thought you would be traveling doing exhibitions and,” she waved her hands in circles trying to recall if she ever knew in the first place what it was that artists actually do other than paint, “whatever it is artists do.”
Liam grinned. “I did, for a time. But my heart is here. My family, friends, memories, and now you’re here too. The best times of my life were all here. Most of them with you.” Sophie was staring at him as if lost in a dream. “What is it?”
“What?”
“You’re looking at me funny.”
“I’d forgotten how handsome you are. I always thought you had the most beautiful eyes. Fiercely intelligent. And your silver hair accentuates them.”
“I don’t have silver hair.”
“You do, but just a little. It’s very striking.”
“You don’t think it makes me look old?”
“Not at all.”
Liam studied her, his expression unreadable. “Do you regret it? Our time together?”
Sophie exhaled slowly. “Not for a second. I’m not even sure I regret all of our time apart.”
Liam arched a brow. “No?”
“If you hadn’t traveled and done everything you did, would you still be where you are today?” she asked, then she sighed.
“You mean to tell me you don’t regret marrying?” She didn’t answer quickly enough. His jaw tightened, but his voice remained even. “Do you?”
Sophie snapped out of a brief trance. Suddenly a whole flood of regrets had come rushing in to make themselves known. “Oh, I regret that, all right! Believe me!” Sophie let out a short, humorless laugh. “But I just wonder… if we had stayed together, would we have grown bored with each other?”
“Would I have wondered about all the ‘what ifs’ until they drove me mad?”
She nodded her head. “That young, hopeful spirit that whispers ‘what if’…”
“We both had to silence it, I suppose. And I have. I’ve experienced enough.”
“Me too.”
“Apparently not or have you forgotten that you’ve just moved across on ocean to open a pub with your brother? I’d call that an experience.”
“True. I guess I haven’t learned my lesson yet.”
And on that note…
“I don’t know about you but that cheese and fruit didn’t cut it. How about some spaghetti? I made sauce yesterday.”
A small moan escaped from her throat. “I love your homemade sauce. All right, I lied. I’m starving.” Keefe was right. Liam was her oldest friend and didn’t deserve to be lied to.
“That’s my Sophie.” Liam stood up straight and returned to the kitchen area talking over his shoulder. “I made it just in case a friend came around for dinner. It’s even better now than it was. I learned a few things while I was in Italy.” He got behind the counter and slipped an apron over his head. Sophie barked out a laugh when she read it: “All this and an artist too.”
His cheeks turned a little pink. He’d forgotten what the apron said. “A Christmas present from my mother.”
“I see! So, Italy? Is that where you’ve been hiding? I always watched for your name in the art magazines. I saw it a couple of times. I always wondered, how was Paris?” That’s where he’d gone after they broke up.
He crossed the kitchen floor to the refrigerator where he retrieved the large pot of sauce then placed it on the hob to heat. “Not bad. I learned a lot but the city… I could take it or leave it. The French countryside is nice though. There’s a place there that reminds me of—nothing, sorry.”
“What were you going to say?” Sophie asked.
“I was going to say there was one place I would go to all the time. I must have made hundreds of sketches but I could never quite get it right. I went there because something about it made me think of you. I couldn’t tell you why though.”
He poured her another brandy then held it up in his hand for her take from across the counter. When she took it from him, their fingers touched. For a long moment they both held the glass together. She looked into his eyes. The familiar, blue eyes of the boy she had loved so dearly, now a man, but the same eyes.