Page 15 of Designing Love (Bluewater Cove #2)

brEAKING UP IS HARD TO DO

Sophia

“I know, I know,” I whisper to the frog. “I’ve made better decisions.”

The knock on the door comes precisely at ten. Daniel — predictable as ever. I hesitate a few seconds longer than necessary before yanking the door open, hoping my expression comes off somewhere between politely detached and not remotely interested.

“Hi, Sophia.” Daniel’s voice is carefully neutral, but the way his eyes flick anxiously behind me suggests he might fear a paintbrush-wielding Sage staging an ambush.

“Come in,” I say, stepping aside. “Sage isn’t home, in case you’re worried.”

“Actually, yes,” Daniel says dryly, stepping in and glancing around the cluttered room. “She and I don’t exactly mesh.”

I smile thinly. “You don’t say.”

He’s dressed casually, or at least Daniel-casual: pressed jeans, a tailored sweater, and leather loafers that have never touched sand. As he moves further into the living room, he eyes a wall-mounted sculpture suspiciously — a half-man, half-raccoon figure made entirely of driftwood.

“What is this supposed to represent?” he asks cautiously.

I shrug. “Sage says it symbolizes the duality of nature. Personally, I think she ran out of ideas and just started hot-gluing stuff together.”

Daniel chuckles briefly, but his face quickly returns to seriousness. “Can we sit down and talk?”

“I’d offer you the couch, but…” I glance apologetically toward a faded velvet sofa covered in sketches and pastel dust. “It’s currently a work in progress.”

“Seems fitting,” he mutters, clearly uncomfortable.

He follows me toward the tiny breakfast nook, where two mismatched chairs flank a small table covered in paint splatter. We sit awkwardly, the silence between us filled only by the distant murmur of the lake and a gentle breeze that rustles the sheer curtains.

“I…” Daniel clears his throat, fumbling for words. “I guess you expect me to apologize for last night.”

“Really? You guess? You storming into a small-town pub yelling about my career and accusing Ethan of I don’t know what?”

He grimaces. “It sounded better in my head.”

“Most of your ideas usually do.”

Daniel sighs, running a hand through his meticulously styled hair. “Sophia, please. I’ve been trying to contact you for days. You completely disappeared.”

“I didn’t disappear. We’ve been living apart for months. The marriage has been over for years. We’ve signed the divorce papers. I’m free to do as I please.” I tap my fingers impatiently on the tabletop, feeling a flicker of old irritation.

“You can’t blame me for being worried,” he insists, his voice softer now. “I mean, leaving the business we built together. That’s not like you.”

“Maybe I’ve changed. It’s been known to happen. I’m not 30 years old anymore.”

“You sure? Because you’re hanging out with a 30-something…”

I glower at him.

Daniel leans back, exhaling slowly, his eyes narrowing slightly. “We have a business. You have responsibilities.”

I laugh humorlessly. “Yeah, you definitely rode my coattails on that, Daniel. I built my design business. You ran along, making contacts and building a client list of your own.”

“That’s not true…”

“Isn’t it?” My voice rises, a spark of anger heating my words. “Did you even realize that I didn’t feel at home in our house? Or that you insisted on picking my assistant, and she ended up spending most of her time running your errands? I barely recognized myself in that life.”

“I was trying to help you!” Daniel protests, hands raised defensively. “I saw potential in you that you didn’t see in yourself.”

“Potential?” I lean forward, incredulous. “Daniel, you didn’t see potential. You saw someone you could benefit from. You never cared about what I wanted.”

He fidgets uncomfortably, eyeing a bizarre, brightly colored painting of a seagull riding a bicycle. “Well, what do you want, then? Living in this…” He waves vaguely around the room. “…chaos? A random renovation project with that guy — Ethan?”

I bristle instantly, my heart beating faster at Ethan’s mention. “’That guy’ has nothing to do with this conversation. He’s a friend. That’s it.”

“Just a friend?” Daniel scoffs quietly. “He looks at you like he’s ready to fight dragons to keep you around.”

A sudden warmth rushes to my face, but I recover quickly. “Maybe he is. Maybe he isn’t. Doesn’t matter. Not relevant to our conversation.”

Daniel blinks, momentarily speechless. “You’ve changed.”

“Finally noticed, huh?”

The tension between us thickens, an unspoken challenge hanging heavily in the air. Daniel’s expression shifts, becoming strangely earnest.

“Look, Sophia. I miss you. Vancouver isn’t the same without you. My life isn’t the same without you.”

His words pierce a tender place inside me, a familiar ache I’d almost forgotten. But it no longer consumes me.

“Maybe you think you’ve changed, Daniel. Or maybe you think you want to change. But I’m not going back.”

He laughs weakly, gesturing toward the disarray. “Why?”

“Because I want to be here,” I say firmly, nodding at Sage’s clutter. “Because it’s real and messy and full of possibilities that don’t revolve around pleasing someone else.”

Daniel pushes back his chair so abruptly it scrapes loudly against the wooden floor, startling Mr. Darcy — Sage’s resident stray cat — who hisses in protest and darts beneath Sage’s overstuffed armchair.

“You’re making a huge mistake, Sophia,” Daniel says sharply, his voice tight with frustration.

I cross my arms, heart pounding but determined not to give an inch. “Maybe I am, but it’s mine to make. You have to accept that.”

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.