It made me more certain I wanted Sophie to come home with me after she got discharged from the hospital. She’d need someone to take care of her for a few days, maybe even a week. I wanted that person to be me. I’d have to wait for the right time to ask her, though, when we finally got a moment alone.
The day before Sophie was set to go home, I ran into an especially unwelcome visitor in the hallway. Theo Bartright had a bouquet of red roses in his hand and looked so put-together he might have stepped right out of an ad for men’s cologne. He’d probably played tennis that morning, gotten himself a massage and a shave and decided he’d pop in to continue his pursuit of Sophie.
“What are you doing here?” I asked him. I had about an inch of height on him and easy 30 pounds of muscle. Drawing myself up, bulking myself out, I stood in the center of the hallway physically blocking his passage.
“What are you doing here?” he shot right back at me, almost sounding exasperated. That’s right, motherfucker. He thought I’d been a pain in his ass so far? He’d never see Sophie’s face again without my ugly mug next to it.
“I’m here with Sophie,” I answered. Not visiting, not checking in, I was with her.
“Well, I’m bringing her these flowers if you’ll just excuse me.”
Mr. Huff-n-puff had another thing coming if he thought he could pull what he did on that boat and then waltz in as if roses could undo the damage, absolve his responsibility. I leaned in and told him real close in his ear so there’d be no mistaking my words. “You left her there to die.”
The way he recoiled as if he’d been punched told me I’d hit the nail on the head. I didn’t know exactly what had gone down that night, but I’d seen the way that man looked at my woman. You couldn’t tell me she’d show up at his party and he’d let her out of his sight. He’d been hunting her down all summer and he finally had her in his crosshairs. He’d had to have known exactly where Sophie was when the fire broke out. And instead of doing the right thing, making sure she made it out safe and sound, he’d saved his own neck.
“What gives you the right to talk to me this way?” he asked, a bit of a cower in his stance despite the bravado in his words.
“Because I’m the man who made sure she survived.”
“Who are you?” he asked as if finally acknowledging me as a worthy opponent, not just a fly to be swatted but a force to be reckoned with.
“I’m the man who loves her,” I explained, matter of fact. “And if you have a single shred of decency in that worm of a heart, you’ll turn around and let her go. Because you don’t deserve her.”
He glared at me, clearly a man not used to being denied a single thing. But then he turned around and left. Watching him retreat almost made me like the guy. Almost.
Finally, the morning of the day Sophie was supposed to go home, it was just the two of us in her room when she woke up.
“Morning,” I greeted her, moving over to take her hand.
“Did you sleep here?” she asked, groggy. I nodded. I’d taken the time off work so I could be by her side. There were few things firefighters were more sensitive to than a loved one getting injured in a fire. My chief had told me to take as much time as I needed.
“I want to ask you something,” I started in, knowing I might only have a couple of minutes. People kept coming to visit, and I didn’t want to have to ask her surrounded by others. “Would you like…” No, that wasn’t the way to put it. I cleared my throat and started over. “May I ask you if you’d come home with me? So I can take care of you? Until you’re back on your feet. I know you could go to your mom’s, but I’d feel better—”
“Yes.”
“Yes?” When I finally looked up instead of down at my sneakers I saw tears in her eyes.
“Yes, I’d love to go home with you.”
More words tumbled out. “I know I didn’t ask you back to my place before and I was being an ass—”
“Remember, we promised.” She shook her head, smiling up at me. “No more apologies. From now on, let’s both just try to do right by each other.”
I smiled back at her. Wiser words had never been spoken.
Her mother protested a bit when Sophie told her she’d be going home with me.
“But does he have the facilities to take care of you?” As if she needed a wheelchair ramp and a full staff. She’d quickly transitioned from her moment of generosity and kindness back to a hardened, bitter shell, but I guess that was the thing with armor. It was a bitch to take off completely.
“He has all I need,” she’d replied simply.
I brought her home with me and it felt like the most natural thing in the world. They’d pushed her to my truck in a wheelchair, even though she’d insisted she could walk. She tried telling me the same thing when I picked her up and carried her to my door.
“Liam, I’m fine!” she’d said, but I liked the feel of her in my arms, against my chest. I wanted a lot more of that.
Inside, I laid her on the couch, adjusting pillows and bringing over a b
lanket even though the day was warm and sunny.
“This is gorgeous!” She looked around, clearly liking what she could see. I did love my place, not that big but I’d built a lot of it with my own hands. I didn’t have much in it, not a lot of furniture or knickknacks. My mom’s house was filled with plants and photos and figurines, of which I didn’t have a single one.
But what I did have was a view of the ocean from almost every window. Right outside my doorstep, it smashed and crashed against the rocks, providing all the decoration and entertainment I could ever want.
“I can’t believe you ever manage to leave.” She settled back on the couch, gazing out the window. “You’re right on the water.”
“I hope you never do leave.” I kissed her head, knowing I was talking kind of crazy but it was exactly how I felt. I was done holding back. I’d almost lost her and now, if I ever lost her again, I’d make damn sure it wasn’t because I hadn’t let her know how I really felt.
She regained strength quickly, but I had to give my mom most of the credit for that. She bustled around the cottage, brightening it up with flowers and bringing over soups and stews and breads and all sorts of fresh fruit and veggies from the Farmer’s Market.
“Look at you, so pretty even after all you’ve been through.” She fussed over Sophie as if she were her own daughter.
“I’m sure that’s not true,” Sophie laughed, self-consciously smoothing down her hair, not a lick of makeup on her face.
“Oh, it is and you know it. Enjoy being 25 my love,” my mother told her. “You won’t always be, so enjoy it while it lasts.”
I enjoyed the easy conversation that flowed between Sophie and my mom, catching up, discussing the studio. The two of them obviously liked each other a lot. They’d gotten along when they’d met back the summer Sophie and I had first dated, but we’d been such kids then and my mom had still been married to a brutal, abusive man. Now, it was as if they’d both bloomed, Sophie into a gorgeous and grounded woman and my mother into a calmer, more open version of her already loving and kind self.