Twenty-One
TWENTY-ONE
LIAM
I ’m outside Sophie and Adeline’s apartment, contemplating if I should ring the doorbell, knock, or just leave the gift and walk away. Ringing the doorbell feels too intrusive, but I can’t just run away like a coward. I opt to knock, but as my hand falls against the door, a surge of doubt washes over me. What the hell am I doing? This feels inappropriate; I shouldn’t even be here. Shaking my head, I quickly set down the vase on the doorstep. She’ll find it before her dinner and realize it was from me.
After seeing Sophie's smile as she ran up to it, I knew I had to buy it for her. Her eyes sparkled at first sight, but it quickly dimmed—presumably when she caught sight of the price tag. I had to get it for her—a gift. No price tag could stand in the way if it means seeing her that excited again.
Just as I'm about to leave, the door suddenly swings open, and I'm caught off guard. Sophie stands in the doorway, bathed in a backlight that frames her like an angel.
“Wow,” the simple word slips out of my mouth. She stands before me in a pink dress that clings to her body, perfectly complementing her figure. The soft fabric catches the light, enhancing her natural glow, making her look even more radiant. It's as if she stepped out of a painting, ethereal and almost unreal. If I could only reach out to touch her. Just to make sure she’s real.
“Liam?” she asks, her voice slightly breathless. “What are you doing here?”
“You look beautiful,” I reply, sidestepping her question unintentionally as I get caught up in the moment more and more the longer I stare at her.
“Thank you.” She blushes a delicate pink that suits her perfectly. “Did I forget something I was supposed to do today? I promise, Jared and I are almost done with the terrace project.”
“No, no.” I shake my head quickly, perhaps too quickly, trying to reassure her. “I just wanted to drop this off. They mistakenly delivered it to my place.” My voice softens as I gesture toward the vase.
She looks down at the gift, then back up at me, a mixture of surprise and curiosity lighting up her face. “To your place? Is it for me?”
“Yeah, for your forget-me-nots,” I add, hoping the gift and its symbolism might hint that I’m ready to make amends. That I remember everything. That I actually never forgot.
We exchange a few more words, mostly trying to get her to accept my gift, before Adeline joins us.
Sophie finally accepts the gift with a soft “Thank you, Liam” and walks back into the apartment to put the vase aside.
I glance back at Adeline; she’s wearing light green sweatpants and a matching hoodie. “Is that your dinner outfit?” I tease, struck by the strong contrast between her outfit and Sophie’s. Knowing Adeline, a sweatpants set is hardly her choice for a night out. This girl loves to go all out, every chance she gets.
“Dinner? Honey, I’m not leaving the apartment for the whole weekend; I need to write,” Adeline replies without missing a beat.
Didn’t Sophie say they were going out for dinner?
“But, Soph said…” I begin, but the corners of Adeline's mouth lift into a mischievous grin.
“You must have misunderstood. My girl is going on a date. It’s about time she got taken out, don't you think? She deserves a nice evening after all the work she’s been doing,” she clarifies. “Jared is taking her to that new Italian place downtown.” She glances at the clock. “Actually, she better hurry. Their reservation is at eight.”
The realization hits me like a punch to the gut.
A date.
With Jared.
Why am I shocked? I know Sophie dates—of course, she does—but the idea of her going back to Jared, of all people, doesn’t sit right with me. It churns my stomach. I don’t like it. Not one bit. As knowledgeable and talented as Jared is professionally, I don’t trust him.
“Ah, I see,” I manage to say, the words feeling a bit strained. Adeline's mischievous grin remains unshaken, her eyes twinkling with amusement as she observes my discomfort. My body tenses, my hands involuntarily clenching at my sides as I grapple with the news.
“It's a great restaurant,” I add, trying my hardest to sound casual. “I hope they have a good time.” My attempt to seem indifferent is weak, and I know Adeline can tell. She nods, still smiling, knowing I understood her message.
“Yeah, they should,” she agrees, her tone light. “Sophie deserves it.”
I nod, having a hard time swallowing, yet alone answering. Just then, Sophie reappears, and my body stiffens involuntarily. Nevertheless, I muster a smile and manage my goodbyes. As I turn to leave, the vision of Sophie, radiant in that stunning dress and heading out with someone else, stubbornly clings to my thoughts. It's deeply unsettling how much this bothers me. Like, deeply annoyingly bothering me.
My mind races, imagining them together—their bodies inching closer, a goodnight kiss that might linger a bit too long. Maybe even more. A chill of dread sweeps through me, turning my insides to ice. Yeah, that’s not happening on my watch.
Clearly, a good meal—that’s all I need. Something to give me energy, to clear my head. That’s the logical choice here. Nothing more, nothing less. Italian always calms me down.
The restaurant is lively, with chatter and clinking glasses. I don’t know what drove me to show up here. Yes, I do.
But now that I’m here, scanning the room under the pretext of finding a friend–always that same friend. I actually owe Micah by now.
In the far corner, under the soft glow of candlelight, I first spot Sophie. Then my gaze lands on Jared, and my mood shifts. This is why I’m here. To stop her from kissing that damn frog. No one’s turning into a prince while I’m around. Not that Jared ever would. Maybe a toad . But never a prince.
I navigate through the restaurant, no one noticing me. When I reach their table, I can’t help but add a bit of drama to my greeting. What can I say? I’m half-Lebanese. “Well, what a coincidence, my two favorite employees on a date. How sweet,” I say loud enough for both of them to hear, layering my tone with mock surprise.
Sophie chokes on her pasta at my sudden appearance, her hand flying to her mouth as she reaches for her wine glass to wash it down. I step closer, tapping her back lightly. “You okay?” I ask, unable to hide the smirk tugging at my lips.
She coughs again, slowly regaining her composure, and quickly retorts, “It’s not a date.”
Jared’s eyes snap to her, lips pursing as irritation briefly crosses his features.
“It sure looks like it,” I mutter under my breath, unable to resist the jab.
“Liam, what are you doing here!” Sophie exclaims, her fingers tightening around the edge of the table.
“Oh, it’s my favorite restaurant,” I say with a casual shrug. “You don’t mind if I join, do you? As it’s not a date, let’s make it a team dinner. It’s on me.” Without waiting for a response, I pull a chair from a nearby empty table, wedging myself between Sophie and Jared. “Would you mind scooting over, Jared?” I ask, settling myself comfortably, ready to see how the evening will unfold.
The waitress approaches our table with a menu in hand and asks me what I'd like to eat. “I'll have what she's having; it looks delicious,” gesturing toward Sophie's pasta. Both Jared and Sophie remain completely silent, the tension palpable. Well, isn’t this awkward?
“And some red wine, I'll just grab the same as they are. Let's make this as easy as possible for you.” I laugh, attempting to lighten the mood with a little bump to Jared's elbow. The waitress nods and walks away, leaving us wrapped in a thick, awkward silence.
“So, what’s new with you two?” I probe, aiming for nonchalance but not particularly caring if I sound too forward. My curiosity is piqued, and I want a response.
Sophie takes another sip of wine, her grip on the glass tightening as she does so, her shoulders slightly hunched in a defensive posture. Jared speaks up, “Not much, we thought we should celebrate finishing the project,” he says, deliberately avoiding my gaze. Lies. You’re here on a date. With your colleague that you once hurt . And your green suit is ugly.
“What are you doing here, Liam, seriously?” Sophie asks, setting down her wine glass with a slight clatter. Her tone is tinged with frustration, and there's a hint of challenge in her eyes as she finally meets my gaze.
“It's my favorite restaurant, I told you, and I was in the mood for Italian,” I reply, keeping my voice light but inside, my thoughts are churning rapidly. “Then I spotted you two,” I glance between them, noting Sophie’s crossed arms. If this isn’t a date, why does my presence seem to bother her so much? And also, why is she so defensive?
I decide to stir the conversation a bit, directing my attention to Jared. “So, Jared, how's everything else going? Any new projects on the horizon?” My tone is casual but my eyes are sharp, scrutinizing his reaction closely. He shifts uneasily in his seat while tightening his hold on the napkin in his hands. “Yeah, a few things lined up. It’s good.”
“Good to hear,” I respond with a nod, taking a sip of my wine. I then turn my attention to Sophie. Her eyes are downcast, zeroing in on her pasta. Her expression unreadable. Driven by a mix of curiosity, and let’s be honest, audacity.
“What about you, Sophie? What are your plans after this?”
Her blue eyes snap up at my question, and I can see her visibly swallow before responding. “Don’t know yet, Liam. What about you? Back to Spain? France?” Her attempt to deflect the question with one of her own is apparent, but I'm not ready to let go just yet.
I hold her gaze. She’s the most talented and ambitious person I know; there’s no doubt she’ll have people lining up to book her once the project is complete. I’m making sure of it and I’ll be here to see it happen.
My fingers drum on the table. “Hmm, I haven’t decided yet. I’m enjoying New York; it feels like there’s still more for me here,” I say, keeping my tone casual, though my eyes stay fixed on hers. Her reaction is subtle—a slight tightening around her eyes as she pauses, her fork hovering mid-air, pasta twirling delicately around it. Her expression shifts—a mix of surprise and something else, maybe curiosity or uncertainty.
“You’re staying?” she asks, her voice softer than usual, almost hesitant.
“I think so. We’ll see,” I reply, my tone deliberately vague, though deep down, I know exactly why I’m staying—and who I would be staying for.
When my food arrives, the conversation turns to general work topics, but there's an undercurrent of tension that doesn’t go away. Of course, I’m the catalyst for this discomfort, but these two need to learn to be comfortable in the uncomfortable. Just like I have to every day.
Jared and Sophie share a look, one all too comfortable. My grip on the fork tightens, the metal cool and unforgiving against my skin. They both let out an awkward chuckle—a sound that grates on my nerves. It’s as if all the chatter in the restaurant has died down and all I can focus on is them. “Is something funny?” I ask.
The air shifts, the lightness vanishing in a heartbeat. Sophie’s laughter dies mid-breath, her lips parting slightly before pressing into a firm line. Her eyes fix on mine, unreadable—but sharp enough to cut. Why is she looking at me like that? She’s the one exchanging secretive glances with Jared, acting like I’m invisible. It’s rude and downright disrespectful. Manners clearly aren’t their strong suit.
I tear off a piece of bread, chewing slowly as I watch her. “So,” I say, swallowing and reaching for my wine, “what’s the deal with you two? Why did you break up?”
Sophie’s head snaps toward me, her cheeks blooming with color. “Liam!” she says my name like a warning shot.
Jared, caught off guard, fumbles for words. “Boss, I didn’t mention it because I wanted to keep things professional and I just—” He’s cut off as Sophie intervenes, “It’s none of your business.” Her shoulders draw tight as she speaks, but there’s a flicker of something fragile in the way she glances away, trying to collect herself. Embarrassment lingers in her expression, but she keeps it under a mask of frustration, her words meant to keep me at bay.
I’m so tired of those words, of being shut out. They trigger me. “Is it not? Are you not my employees?” I ask, “Shouldn’t I be concerned about potential disruptions in the workplace?”
Sophie's face hardens to ice. “This has nothing to do with work… We were just catching up as friends. You're making it into something it's not.” Her firm resolute tone cuts through the air.
I take a deep breath, the effort to hold back my rising frustration almost painful. My fists clench under the table, the weight of my overprotective instincts pressing hard against my better judgment. I know I need to rein it in, but the thought of her brushing me aside for him is like a splinter I can’t ignore.
Caring for someone while also respecting their independence and professional boundaries is a delicate balance. Yet, in my head, all the lines are hopelessly blurred.
“Can you please just let it go?”
Leaning back in my chair, I take a long sip of wine, the rich flavor barely registering. Can I let it go? My gaze drifts to Jared. He sits rigidly, his eyes wide and fixed on Sophie with a look of shock as if he's trapped in headlights and unsure where to turn next. The sight of his discomfort oddly doesn’t bring me any satisfaction; instead, it sharpens the ache of seeing Sophie so guarded, so closed off from me now.
I sigh, “Sure, I'll let it go for now.” Though it's clear neither of us is convinced
“Promise?” Sophie challenges.
Annoyed but compelled to reassure her, I respond firmly, “I always keep my word, Sophie.”
She raises an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. “Right. And how’s that meeting with Moretti coming along?” Her tone is pointed, the shift deliberate. It’s obvious she’s not just talking about business—she’s testing me.
Caught slightly off guard, I straighten up, reminded of the obligations I juggle. “Like I said, I’m working on it,” I’m not just going to get that meeting; I'm determined to prove her wrong—to prove that I keep my word. I’m not my young, stupid self anymore. “When I say something, I mean it. I don’t break my word,” I continue, my tone stern and sincere. Sophie meets my stare, her eyes etched with doubt. “Is that so?” she challenges, holding my gaze without flinching. We stare at each other, neither willing to look away first.
Jared, probably uncomfortable, tries to move the subject, “His work is amazing. It’s just a shame he doesn’t sell to private consumers.”
I straighten up, seizing the opportunity. “Actually, I have a piece.”
Sophie looks at me, her chin jutting out, “No, you don’t.”
“I do.”
“He hasn’t sold to consumers in fifteen years, Liam. When would you have bought it?” she asks, tapping a finger against the tabletop to drive her point home.
“I have one of the tables in my dining room,” I insist.
“No, you don’t. Come on, Liam,” she says, a faint smile tugging at her lips.
“I’m not trying to impress you. Why would I lie about owning a table?” I counter, my tone more confused than defensive. It’s absurd—arguing over a piece of furniture as if it’s a matter of honor. I’m not that desperate, not by a long shot.
She lets out a small huff, her gaze flicking to the side. “Because that wouldn’t surprise me.”
What the fuck does she mean by that?
Jared swallows loudly, shifting in his chair. His eyes dart between us, like he's searching for an escape route. “You know, it’s quite late. I should probably just?—”
I wave him off, not sparing him another thought. In this moment, I don’t care about him. He needs to learn to read the room and keep his damn mouth shut.
“I’m sorry, you wouldn’t be surprised by what?” My tone sharpens with each word.
“Lying!” Her voice rises, trembling slightly as her hand presses flat against the table.
“I’m just gonna... go. You two seem to have a lot to discuss,” Jared mumbles, quickly scurrying away, his shoulders hunched. What the hell does she see in that guy? He can fuck off for all I care.
“I'm the liar?” I scoff, my voice laced with disbelief, like the very idea of it is laughable. She’s walking a fine line now, and I’m tempted to be the one to make her fall off it. Only to catch her, and make her see things my way.
“Yes,” she snaps.
“Where’s Adeline then? Weren’t you supposed to go to dinner with her?” I challenge, raising an eyebrow skeptically.
“Wh-What?” Sophie stutters, her eyes darting away before meeting mine again. I got you now.
“You heard me. The only one who’s good at lying at this table is you,” I say firmly. “And dating your co-worker. Real classy, Sophie.”
“First of all, it’s none of your business who I date and second of all, this wasn’t a fucking date,” she fires back, her voice rising.
“Then what was it?” I lean forward.
“Why do you even care? You gave up that right, Liam,” she counters, her hands clenched in her lap, her posture defensive, but her voice wavering just enough to betray the emotion beneath her words.
That stops me cold, You gave up that right , slamming the door shut before I can even try. I swallow hard, pushing the truth aside, and settle for what feels safer—what’s expected of me. “Because you are my employee.”
She stiffens. “Is that it?”
“Yes,” I reply, though the word tastes like ash in my mouth.
“I’m not dating Jared. He wanted to apologize for the past, and I accepted. We’re just trying to work together smoothly. That’s it. You didn’t need to come here, make a scene, and lie about a table. What were you trying to prove?” she states firmly, her eyes not leaving mine.
“I didn’t lie about the damned table,” I snap. She’s driving me insane.
“Enough, Liam. You’re really starting to irritate me.”
“I’ll show you then. God, you’re still so damn stubborn,” I counter, the edge in my voice matching hers.
“Show me what?”
“Get up,” I demand, my patience wearing thin.
“I’m not coming with you,” she replies, her arms crossing defiantly.
“Get up, Sophie; you’re seeing this damned table if it’s the last thing I do,” I persist, my voice brooking no argument.
She lets out a sarcastic laugh. “You know what? Fine, let’s see this imaginary table you apparently have.”
Reluctantly, she stands, and we head out. I settle the bill quickly and walk her to a taxi, the night ending as tensely as it started—probably even more tense.
“When I’m right, I want you to apologize in front of Jared,” she says, setting the terms of our unresolved debate. “And Lilly,” she adds.
“Sure, Sunshine”
“No, not Sunshine .”