Chapter 14
Time moved on, though no one could say exactly how much—it had a way of slipping by unnoticed when life was full.
Darcie and Connor’s newborn twins were thriving, and Darcie herself was recovering well, easing into motherhood with Connor by her side.
Unfortunately, despite Nan and Shamus’ relentless efforts, the mystery girl in the photograph remained just that—a mystery.
At the pub, progress was steady, much to Sophie and Keefe’s relief. The roof was finished, and to everyone’s surprise, the old place hadn’t needed nearly as much work as they’d feared. They had braced for the worst, but instead, they found themselves ahead of schedule. And now, with the floors newly refinished, and the bar installed, the space was beginning to resemble the pub they had envisioned: something warm, familiar, and full of promise.
Liam had been around often, lending a hand where he could. Slowly but surely, he and Sophie were moving forward. It pleased them both to find that the closeness between them had never really gone away, it had just tucked itself away beneath years of distance and heartache.
Now, it was unfolding once again into something natural, inevitable.
But Sophie needed time. Time to get used to him again. Time to let herself trust what had always been there.
So, for now, they hadn’t crossed that final threshold. Yet with each day, each lingering glance, every flirtation and quiet moment, it became clear: love had never been the question.
They went on plenty of dates—or none at all, really. Because they didn’t need to date. What they needed was time. Time spent together, doing nothing special except rediscovering each other. Relearning the familiar, sharing the new. Liam was still Liam—kind, thoughtful, and effortlessly fun. Sophie, at her core, was still the girl he’d always loved. And whatever had changed, Liam embraced without hesitation.
Now, Sophie stood by the fireplace in Liam’s living room, her glass of red wine barely touched as she watched him move through the kitchen. He still had that easy confidence about him that she admired. The kind that never asked for attention but always held it.
Nothing had ever truly got under his skin. Well, except for Sophie that is.
There was something achingly familiar in the way he worked—measured, focused, completely in his element. She’d watched him like this a hundred times before, back when life was simpler. But tonight, it felt different. Warmer. Closer.
The years apart hadn’t dimmed what they once had. If anything, they’d made it deeper. And as she stood there, wrapped in the quiet hum of his home, she realized she wasn’t bracing for heartbreak anymore.
She was ready—ready to let herself want him, completely.
Her gaze drifted to the painting on the far wall and she stepped closer. Admiring the picture, she let her fingers trail lightly over the edge of the frame. The girl in the painting was bold, happy, utterly unashamed. That girl hadn’t worried about being enough. She hadn’t questioned if she deserved to be wanted.
Sophie let out a breath, her gaze flicking toward the kitchen where Liam moved with ease, stirring something on the stove and humming under his breath. He’d always been that way, steady and sure.
He’d given her space, never pushed, never asked for more than she was ready to give. And with every patient, gentle touch, every lingering look, he’d reminded her of who she was before life had bruised her.
She was that girl in the painting. Maybe not all the way, not yet. But she could be.
And she wanted to be—with him.
Her pulse kicked up, anticipation threading through her limbs. She set the wine glass down on the mantel then crossed the room with slow, deliberate steps.
Surprised to find her so close, he looked up. She didn’t give herself time to second-guess.
She stepped behind him then slowly slid her arms around his waist.
He hummed deep in his throat and cocked a smile. “Hungry?” he asked, his voice warm.
She pressed her cheek against his back, let herself feel the strength of him, the quiet safety he’d always given her.
“Yes,” she murmured. But it wasn’t dinner she wanted.
She turned him toward her, lifted onto her toes, and kissed him—slow and deep, pouring all her love and trust, and need into it.
When she pulled back, his hands rested at her waist, his gaze searching hers.
“Soph?”
“I don’t want to wait anymore,” she said softly. Her fingers curled in his shirt. “Come to bed with me.”
Sophie stood at the edge of Liam’s bedroom, her fingers twisting in the hem of her sweater. The fire in the hearth flickered over the walls, casting a soft golden glow, but it was the warmth of Liam’s eyes that held her in place.
She’d started this. She’d kissed him first tonight, let her hands slide up his chest, felt the steady, grounding beat of his heart under her palms.
And she hadn’t stopped when his lips traced the line of her jaw or when his hands slid under her sweater to stroke along her back.
She’d wanted this.
She still did.
Liam stood across from her, shirt unbuttoned, his expression calm but intent. He wasn’t rushing her, wasn’t demanding anything. He was just waiting, the way he always had.
She let out a breath and stepped forward, lifting her hands to frame his face. “Liam, I love you.” The words came easily now, because they were true, because she’d fought too hard to let herself love him again to keep them locked inside another minute.
“A stór,” he murmured as his hands skimmed her waist. He’d been longing to hear her say those words and so desperately wanted to say them. “I love you too, a stór.”
He kissed her, slow and deep, as if they had all the time in the world. And when he lifted her into his arms, she let herself sink into him, let him carry her to the bed, and let the world outside his room fade away.
Clothes slipped away, skin met skin, and for the first time in years, she felt cherished. Revered.
And then—panic.
It hit swift and sudden, an invisible wall rising inside her. Her breath stuttered. Liam was here, with her, surrounding her, but memories clawed at the edges of her mind. Of cold, perfunctory hands. Of feeling small, inadequate.
Her heart pounded. She squeezed her eyes shut, willed herself to push through it. This was Liam. She trusted him. She loved him.
But her body wouldn’t listen.
His lyrical voice was a whisper against her temple. “Hey, look at me, love.”
She opened her eyes, found his steady blue gaze.
“We don’t have to do this,” he said, his thumb brushing over her cheek. “Not until you’re ready.”
“Sorry, I really thought I was.”
“There’s no rush.” He pressed his forehead to hers. “We’ve waited this long. I can wait as long as you need.”
A knot loosened in her chest, and she curled into him, her fingers fisting lightly in his hair. “I really do love you, you know? I didn’t just say that in the heat of the moment.”
His arms wrapped around her, holding her close. “I know.” Liam sat up, raking a hand through his hair as he exhaled. “And I love you too.”
They laid still together with her inside his arms. Sophie’s breath, soft and steady, warmed his chest, and for a moment, Liam let himself get lost in the feel of her against him. She was there—really there—and the quiet intimacy of it should have been enough to calm the fire burning in his veins.
But it wasn’t.
Every inch of him was on fire, the heat between them lingering like an unanswered question, too much to ignore. He had meant every word when he said he would wait for her. He would. But the pull of her—of this —was too strong to be brushed aside so easily. The ache in his chest wasn’t just from wanting her; it was from the fear that if he didn’t find some space, he’d lose control. And the last thing he wanted was to push her away in the process.
He shifted slightly, careful not to disturb her, trying to create just enough distance to quell the ache. But how could he move away without shattering the warmth between them? How could he pull back without making her think that she was anything less than everything he’d ever wanted?
By being her friend.
What they needed was popcorn. Popcorn, ice cream, chocolate, and any other junk food he could find. And definitely more wine. If nothing else, this was going to be a night to further renew their friendship, to remind each other of the ease they once had.
With that decision made, he swung his legs over the side of the bed.
“You’re leaving?” Sophie’s voice was small, hesitant, and something about the way she curled under the covers tugged at his heart.
He turned back to her, a soft smile on his face. “No, love. I was going to make us popcorn.” He reached out, brushing his fingers lightly over her wrist where it peeked from beneath the blankets. “Right now, more than anything, I just want to spend time with you. We used to love eating in bed and watching television, remember?”
She swallowed, her grip on the edge of the sheets tightening.
“Don’t go,” she breathed.
He stilled. Then considered. Maybe let go just a little.
Then, ever so gently, he pried the blankets from her grip. “You stay as you are, and I’ll stay as I am.” His gaze swept over her, drinking her in, the flickering firelight casting golden hues along her skin. Never was she more beautiful than she was right now. “I’ve been waiting too long to see you naked again to let you get dressed now.”
A blush swept over her from head to toe, but her lips curved. “You’re impossible.”
He grinned, settling back onto the bed and pulling her into his arms. “And you love me for it.”
She did. God help her, she did.
“I can hold dinner, and we could watch a movie here in bed with snacks. Would you like that?”
“Yeah, I would. But…”
Sophie lay curled against Liam, listening to the steady, reassuring beat of his heart beneath her cheek. He held her like she was something precious, his fingers tracing slow, absentminded patterns over her bare back. He hadn’t pulled away, hadn’t shifted to put distance between them after she panicked. He’d simply been there, solid and warm, as if holding her was enough.
His quiet patience, that unwavering devotion, was what undid her.
Because it was enough.
Because she was enough.
She lifted her head, her breath catching in the soft, dim light as she searched his face. His blue eyes were steady, unwavering, locked on hers with such intensity it felt as though they were the only two people left in the world. There was no tension in him, no trace of impatience despite the quiet storm between them. He was simply waiting, as he always did, with the kind of patience, the compassion she needed, that made her heart ache. He didn’t ask for anything. He just... understood.
Her heart clenched. She could feel the pull of everything she had longed for, everything that had been right in front of her all along.
She reached out, her fingers trembling slightly as they traced the edge of his jaw, the rough scrape of his stubble igniting a spark that shot straight to her core. She swallowed, her pulse drumming in her throat, but this time, it wasn’t fear making her shiver. It was something else—something deeper, more urgent, something that pulled at her very soul.
“I want you,” she whispered, the words raw, stripped of hesitation. Her fingers tightened against his skin. She needed to hold on to him. “I love you, and I want you.”
His breath caught in his throat, his grip on her waist flexing, pulling her closer, but still, he didn’t rush. He didn’t press. He simply waited, the weight of his love wrapped around her like a promise.
“Are you sure?” His voice was low, thick with desire, but edged with tenderness as his thumb traced the curve of her ribs, sending a shiver through her.
She didn’t answer with words. Instead, she kissed him—lush, slow, deep, every part of her pouring into it. She gave him everything she had—her trust, her heart, all the love she had locked away for far too long. This wasn’t about the past. This wasn’t about proving anything to herself. This was about them. About the connection they had never lost, no matter the distance, no matter the years. This was about reclaiming the part of her soul that only he had ever touched.
His hands slid down her sides, reverent yet hungry, rediscovering every inch of her as if she were something he could never get enough of. She arched into him, the heat of him searing her skin, every touch a spark that lit her from the inside out. She was lost, utterly lost in the feel of him, in the pull between them, in the way he made her feel both broken and whole.
He shifted, his mouth trailing along her throat, the scrape of his stubble sending a rush of heat through her. She arched into him, needing more, her skin burning everywhere he touched.
She almost laughed at herself. All the walls she had built… and here she was. So sure. So unafraid. This was what she had been missing? Yesterday, she had been filled with doubt and fear, but now, in this moment, she couldn’t remember why she hadn’t run into his arms the moment she had the chance. Then he pressed a kiss to her breast and all thoughts fled.
He pulled back just enough to meet her gaze, his breath uneven, his eyes dark with something fierce and unspoken. “Tell me to stop,” he said, his voice rough, his gaze a promise and a plea all at once. “And I will.”
Her legs tightened around him, her hands threading through his hair, her heart pounding in her chest. “Don’t stop,” she breathed, her voice thick with need, with the certainty that this was what she had been waiting for.
And when he pulled her closer this time, there was no hesitation in her. No second-guessing. No retreat. She just let go.
A curse slipped from his lips, raw and reverent, almost broken, and then he kissed her again, deeper, as if the weight of everything they had been, everything they were becoming, was too much to contain. Need and love collided in a moment that promised forever, that consumed them both with the fire she had long denied.
When they finally came together, when he filled and she surrounded, there was no fear. No hesitation. No past. There was only them. Only the love that had always been waiting for them to claim. And in that moment, they did.