Page 35 of Designing Love
His eyes narrow, the muscles in his jaw twitching. “Accept it? You think I can just walk away knowing you’re throwing your life away on some fantasy? What will people think?”
“AH! There it is! You’re worried about your image. I don’t care about your image, Daniel. You do you.”
“This isn’t like you!” he spits.
“You have no idea who I am anymore!” I shoot back, my voice shaking slightly. “And I don’t owe you explanations, and I sure don’t need your permission. I’ve moved on, Daniel. You need to move on, too.”
He takes a deep, angry breath, eyes flicking briefly toward the window and the serene shoreline he probably despises. When his gaze snaps back, it’s cold and resentful. “You might think you’ve moved on, but you’re fooling yourself. Eventually, you’ll wake up and realize you’ve settled. And when that happens, don’t expect me to be waiting for you.”
“I won’t. Believe me.”
Daniel straightens his sweater roughly, heading toward the door with heavy, purposeful strides. He pauses, one hand gripping the doorknob, and glares back at me. “This isn’t over, Sophia. I’m not letting it end like this.”
Before I can respond, the door slams shut behind him, shaking the walls just enough to send a precariously placed ceramic bowl toppling off a shelf. I wince as it shatters on the hardwood floor.
Mr. Darcy eyes me judgmentally from beneath the chair. “Not my fault,” I mutter defensively. He remains unconvinced.
My hands tremble slightly as I sink onto the arm of the sofa, suddenly exhausted. Daniel’s words echo harshly in my mind and a shiver runs down my spine. He’s angry, furious even, and determined not to accept reality. My stomach twists with unease, but I force myself to breathe slowly.Classic Daniel.
16
GRUNGE THERAPY
Sophia
Ishove another pile of Sage’s colorful fabrics into the wicker basket beside the fireplace, muttering furiously. Our Lady Peace’s ‘Superman’s Dead’ blasts through my noise-canceling headphones, fueling my angry tidying session. Apparently, rage-cleaning is now my favorite sport, and Daniel is my most effective motivator.
“He thinks he knows what’s best for me,” I growl toward Mr. Darcy, who lounges lazily on the couch, watching me through half-closed eyes. “Can you believe the nerve? ‘Sophia, you’re throwing your life away!’ Ha! Like he knows anything about?—”
I pause to wave a duster dramatically in the air. Mr. Darcy flicks his tail dismissively.
“You’re not helping,” I scold him, pointing the duster in his direction. “At least look sympathetic!”
He yawns elaborately and turns over, uninterested in my drama.Typical cat.
The music surges again, guitars screaming through my head, and I match its intensity by scrubbing fiercely at a spot of dried paint on the coffee table. Soundgarden’s ‘Black Hole Sun’ fills my ears, and I belt along badly, off-key and unapologetic.Rage therapy at its finest.
I’m so deeply entrenched in my grunge-fueled cleaning marathon that when a hand taps my shoulder, I jump a mile, shrieking as I whirl around and hurl the first thing I can grab — an offensively bright sunflower-patterned couch cushion — straight into Ethan’s bewildered face.
He stumbles back, eyes wide with surprise, and the cushion bounces harmlessly to the floor. My heart rockets into my throat, embarrassment and shock coloring my face.
“Oh my gosh! Ethan!” I rip off my headphones, panting as if I’ve run a marathon. “I — I didn’t hear you come in.”
“I noticed,” Ethan says dryly, rubbing his face but grinning. “Nice throw. You ever consider pitching professionally?”
I let out a shaky laugh, mortified. “Sorry. Self-defense reflex. Or, you know, just regular old insanity.”
His expression softens, eyes searching mine carefully. “I was walking along the beach and heard... well, let’s just say I was concerned Chris Cornell was murdering you.”
“Just my dignity dying a little,” I mutter, unable to suppress a smirk.
He steps closer, gently brushing a strand of hair away from my flushed face. His eyes flicker briefly over me, and his expression shifts from amused to concerned.
“Hey — are you okay?”
The tenderness in his voice cracks my fragile composure. The laughter fades, replaced by a sudden tightening in my throat. I blink rapidly, horrified when my eyes fill with tears.
“I’m fine,” I say weakly, betraying myself immediately as a tear spills down my cheek.
