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It’s suitably disgusting, but I hope the caffeine kicks in soon.
When I’m back in the car I finally check my phone. There are no more messages from Michael, so I have no idea whether he will be meeting with legal in a few hours’ time. But there are voicemails from Liam. My stomach contracts as I consider not listening to it.
Ariel must have told him I left. He’ll be annoyed even though I did the right thing.
As soon as I connect to my voicemail I hit one to listen to his message.
“What the hell is going on? Call me. Please. You said you trusted me.”
My heart clenches. I did. I do…
Do I? I blink, unsure who I trust. Maybe not even myself.
It’s the middle of the night and I have no idea if he’s asleep or not. I mean, he should be, everybody should be. It gives me an excuse not to call him.
So instead I send a message.
I’m sorry. I messed up. I’m an idiot. I’ll explain tomorrow if you’re still talking to me. – Sophie
I’ve barely hit send before my phone starts to ring, his name on the screen. With shaking hands, I accept it.
“Hello.” My heart is racing. I don’t feel good.
“Why did you leave without telling me?” His voice sounds wrong. Like he’s almost broken.
“There’s a work problem,” I tell him, still hedging around the facts. “I need to be in Charleston.”
“That doesn’t explain why you didn’t find me and tell me,” he says hoarsely. “I would have gone with you.”
“It’s your mom’s birthday. You couldn’t have done that. And you didn’t need to, this is my problem.”
He’s silent for a moment. I can hear the blood rushing through my ears. “You still don’t trust me, do you?”
I swallow hard. “I do…”
“No, you don’t. If you trusted me you would have found me. We would have been a team, facing this together. You ran, Sophie. You ran because you’re scared.”
“Iamscared,” I whisper. “I’m scared of losing my job.”
“You should have told me!”
I try to answer him, but he’s right. I should have. I should have done a lot of things. “I’m sorry,” I say again, because my heart is starting to hurt.
“Ariel told me you know about Marie.”
I can’t talk about this. Not now. “It doesn’t matter,” I tell him. “That’s not why I left.”
Not even if you loved her more than you could ever love me. Not if she got the best of you. The Liam who was young and carefree.
“It’s part of it though, isn’t it?” he asks. It’s like he’s reading my mind. “It confirmed to you that you’re on your own. That we’re not in this together.”
“Liam…” I can’t think of what to say. I can’t think of anything. “I’m so sorry.”
“Where are you right now?” he asks.
“At a rest stop about an hour from Charleston.” Probably two at the rate I’m driving.
“You’re at a rest stop on your own?”
