Page 32 of Designing Love
Sophia scoffs. “Right… looking out for me. I’m taking a break. Which you refuse to respect.”
“A break from the business? Your responsibilities?”
“You’re out of line, Daniel,” she grits through her teeth.
Daniel’s gaze flickers to me, eyes narrowing. “And you — did you conveniently forget to mention I was looking for her?”
My chest tightens, anger stirring. “You threatened me at Sage’s. Not exactly a polite request.”
“Oh, come on,” Daniel scoffs. “You’re playing the lap dog.”
I don’t take the bait. “I respect Sophia. That includes respecting her boundaries. You might want to try it.”
He steps forward slightly, puffing himself up like I’m supposed to back down. “You think you know her? You’ve known her what — five minutes? I spent years with her. I know what she needs.”
Sophia pushes her chair back, rising to face him. Though he’s taller, she doesn’t flinch. “You don’t get to barge in and make demands,” she snaps, voice crackling with suppressed anger. “We’re done, Daniel.”
He scowls. “I’m trying to help you see reason. You have real opportunities back in Vancouver — serious contracts. This place? This… distraction? It’s not you.”
Sophia crosses her arms, chin lifted. “We’ll talk tomorrow at Sage’s. Ten in the morning. You’ve got five seconds to order a drink or get out, because I’m two seconds away from letting my purse meet your face.”
He opens his mouth, shuts it, and then glances around, noting the tavern’s silent attention. Even the bartender looks ready to intervene. With a final grimace, Daniel storms out, letting the door slam behind him. A moment of stunned silence passes. Then voices cautiously resume.
Sophia exhales a shaky breath, sinking back into her chair. I cover her hand with mine, heart racing. “You okay?” My thumb strokes the inside of her wrist—steady, calming — and the absurd thought pops up that I’ve never felt so close to being a part of a bar fight.
She nods stiffly, eyes still bright with leftover adrenaline. “That was… not how I pictured tonight.”
“You did nothing wrong,” I say quietly, reassuringly squeezing her fingers. “You handled it.”
Her gaze lingers on me, gratitude and frustration mingling. “I just hate that he followed me here. That he’s still trying to orchestrate my life. But I’m not letting him control my life anymore.”
My chest fills with admiration for her. A thread of tension still laces the air, but she’s calmer now, leaning back in her seat as though deflating from battle mode. Our waitress returns, looking apprehensive.
“You two still want dinner?” she asks hesitantly.
We exchange glances. Then Sophia sets her jaw. “Definitely. With extra hot sauce for the tacos.”
I grin, nodding at the waitress, who hurries off. Sophia rubs her temples, a wry smile inching onto her face.
“Guess the rumor mill will be churning tonight, huh?”
I shrug. “Eh, it’s a small town. We’re used to drama. At least we gave them a show.”
She laughs softly, the tension draining from her shoulders. Our food arrives and we focus on eating for a while, letting the normalcy of battered fish and cold beer settle our rattled nerves. I watch her drizzle hot sauce onto her tacos until she’s gasping from the spice.
“Too much?” I ask, fighting back a laugh as she fans her mouth.
“No regrets,” she chokes out, eyes watering. “It’s a good kind of burn.”
I pass her my untouched water, and she drinks it gratefully. Despite everything, we settle into a companionable rhythm again — stealing each other’s fries, exchanging witty remarks about the questionable décor. The hush that followed Daniel’s exit is gone, replaced by the ordinary buzz of the pub.
After we finish, I grab the bill, ignoring a few curious glances from nearby tables. Outside, the night air bristles with lingering tension and a faint scent of the lake.
Sophia folds her arms, hugging herself for warmth, even as her gaze returns to me. “Thanks for… putting up with that.”
I step closer, the cool air pushing us together. “You did most of the heavy lifting. I just tried not to let him ruin our dinner.”
She snorts. “Well, you succeeded.” A pause settles, and her eyes slip down toward my mouth. My breath hitches, the air crackling with a sudden awareness. My heart drums in anticipation. I can almost feel her lips before we’ve even closed the distance. My pulse races, urging me forward — I tilt just enough to catch the faint citrus scent of her shampoo. But then a pair of rowdy customers burst out behind us, nearly colliding with Sophia.
