Eight
EIGHT
SOPHIE
I don’t think I’ve ever sobered up this fast. I didn’t expect to watch Liam lose his cool and start fighting that guy. What was he thinking? Why would he stoop so low to fight a drunk man? Then again, after realizing it was the same guy who groped me earlier, I can’t deny that the thought of smacking him in the face crossed my mind too. But I would never act on it. I would never.
“Be gentle,” Liam hisses as I dab a cloth soaked in alcohol on the cut painting his cheek red. His jaw is clenched, and his dark eyes close in pain, their usual confidence dimmed by the discomfort.
A part of me feels a little bad seeing him like this—vulnerable, so human. It stirs something within me, an ache I don’t quite understand, equal parts guilt, and a strange sense of closeness. But another part of me, the part that despises macho men who think fighting solves everything, resists the urge to roll my eyes. This is exactly the kind of behavior that lands people in trouble.
“I’m trying,” I mutter, carefully tending to the wound. “You shouldn’t have done that.”
“He deserved it.”
I just look at him, cocking an eyebrow.
“What?” he challenges, raising his hands in exasperation before letting them fall to rest on his knees again. “You thought I’d just stand by while he disrespected you two?”
Well, actually, the guy only disrespected Adeline in front of Liam. My disrespect came before, but he isn’t aware of that.
What would he do if he did?
I shake my head, pushing that thought to the back of my mind. “Sure, he was an asshole, but there are better ways to handle these things,” I say, pulling back slightly to examine the cut on his cheek. It’s not deep and doesn’t seem to need stitches.
I’m no doctor, but I’ve patched up these kinds of wounds before. My dad used to get into trouble when I was younger, and I was often the one holding the first aid kit, cleaning up the messes he couldn’t avoid—or wouldn’t. The memory stings, uninvited, as I press the cloth a little more firmly against Liam’s cheek than I need to.
He winces. “That’s your idea of being gentle?”
“Hold still,” I mutter, biting back the urge to snap at him. “You’re lucky it’s not worse.”
There’s another one on his lip, a little gash that mars his perfect cupid’s bow. His lips, usually a lighter shade, look swollen and bruised now. I meet his gaze, the dark shade even darker with the frustration he carries. “What was I supposed to do, Sophie? Just let him get away with it?”
I press the cloth against his lip, my movement deliberate. Silencing him. He winces again, but his eyes stay locked on mine, steady and defiant. I swallow hard, willing myself to keep moving, but the weight of his stare roots me to the spot.
For a few heartbeats, we’re caught in the space between us, tension thrumming like an unspoken challenge.
His dark to my bright.
His intensity to my still.
A clash of opposites, yet somehow balanced.
Yin and Yang , forever pushing and pulling.
Why does it have to be like this? His gaze feels like it’s peeling back layers of my resolve, searching for the parts of me I’ve buried so deeply I thought they were gone. Parts of me I fought tooth and nail to suppress. With every meeting we’ve had these past two years—dinners, celebrations, vacations with the rest of the 'family'—those parts have clawed closer to the surface, refusing to stay buried. And now… Now I’m not sure how I’ll keep everything buried, hidden behind a professional mask I’ve perfected. What if it all unravels? What if he sees through the cracks? I can’t let that happen. I made a promise to myself, and I’m keeping my word. I’m not letting him or anyone else see past these walls I’ve built. I’ve come too far to let that happen, and now my career and my future are my priority.
I break the spell, pulling back and murmuring, “Done.”
He nods, his eyes boring into mine even deeper. “Thanks,” he says softly, his fingers brushing against mine as he takes the bloody cloth from my hand. I turn away from him, needing to escape and leave the bathroom stall.
We find Adeline waiting outside the bathroom, calming the bouncer, who seems eager for us to leave as soon as possible. With a nod from her, we comply and exit.
“Addie, we should try to catch a cab,” I say, my voice uneasy, glancing around at the chaotic street. “Liam, are you alright?”
He doesn’t answer, which sparks a flicker of annoyance in me. Instead, he pulls out his phone. “I’ll call my driver. He’ll take you home.”
“We’ll just grab a cab,” I reply, rejecting his help instinctively. “There are plenty around.”
Liam sighs, the sound weighted with frustration. “Sophie, please. Just let me take care of this,” he says, his tone firm but not unkind.
Something in me snaps. “We don’t need more of your help, Liam!” I shoot back, my voice sharper than I intended. The moment the words leave my mouth, regret prickles at the edges of my chest, but it’s buried under the swirl of emotions I can’t seem to untangle—pride, anger, confusion.
Adeline steps in, her tone calm, a steady counterpoint to my rising tension. “Soph, he’s just trying to help. Let him.”
“Hasn’t he helped enough?” I bite out, but my voice wavers, betraying the mix of emotions bubbling beneath the surface. When I see the hurt flash across Liam’s face, more guilt crashes over me. What’s happening to me? This isn’t who I am. But I feel like I’m being pulled in too many directions at once—between pride and frustration, the past and the present. And Adeline’s right. He is just trying to help. Why shouldn’t I let him?
“Fine,” I breathe, the fight leaving me. If I keep arguing, I’ll only feel worse.
Within minutes, a sleek black Mercedes-Benz pulls up to the curb. Adeline hops in, giving me a quick look as if to say, be nice. I move to follow her, but Liam stops me.
“Sophie,” he begins, his voice strained. “I'm sorry things got out of hand. I was just trying to…”
My tone is softer when I speak this time. “I know. I just…” My voice falters, tangled in the weight of unspoken thoughts. How do I articulate this? What exactly am I trying to say? Everything feels clumsy against the backdrop of these conflicting feelings. It's the clash between appreciating his defense and worrying about the consequences. But ultimately, that's what it boils down to: conflict with consequences I'm not ready to face. Liam is my boss, and keeping my job is my priority. There isn’t a second chance in this city, words travel fast and my main focus is to ensure they're in my favor.
He nods, his jaw still tight. “I understand.”
Then he closes the door behind me, and the car drives us away, Liam slowly disappearing in the background.
“That was a bit harsh, Sophie.”
“I know.”
“He was just trying to help, you know,” Adeline says gently, her hand resting on my arm.
“I know,” I murmur again, staring out the window, watching the city lights flicker past as we drive through the street. The bustling streets blur into streaks of color under the flow of neon and traffic lights.
Adeline’s voice breaks the silence again. “Can I ask one question, and then I’ll drop it?”
I turn to face her, my chest tightening slightly at the careful tone in her voice. Her eyes are soft but probing like she’s already bracing for whatever answer I might give. I nod, barely, a small movement that feels heavier than it should.
“What happened between you two?” she asks curiously. “It feels like there’s been tension since Leora and Lucas’ wedding. The second one.”
I hesitate, unsure of how to answer. To her, that wedding was when we all got to know each other—bridesmaids and groomsmen mingling. I walked out of the church with him, my arm linked with his. That’s how the story began, according to everyone else, but the truth started much earlier. I feel even worse now, lying to her, but this isn’t the right time to confess. Not in a taxi after a night out gone wrong.
I swallow hard before I speak, “I don’t know. I guess we’re just too different.”
“Different, how?”
“I mean, we have different ways of looking at things,” I offer vaguely, hoping she'll drop the subject.
She smiles at me warmly. “One thing I know is that you both care deeply for the people you love. Sometimes, that’s what matters most.”
Her words ease some of the tension inside me, and I manage a small smile in return. “Thanks, Addie. I appreciate that.”
She nods thoughtfully. “Just remember, friendships can evolve. Try to give him a chance now that you’re working together.”
“Maybe,” I say, not entirely convinced but willing to entertain the possibility.
My mind goes back to something he said, and I change the subject. “Wasn’t Liam with his friend? Where is he?”
Adeline’s lips part briefly, as if just remembering. Then she laughs, shrugging it off. “Oh, I don’t know. He probably left.” She turns away, her laughter bubbling up again. “If he was even real.”