Chapter 24: Soph

"How you holding up, Palmer?"

I dropped the contract onto Mac's desk and avoided eye contact as I collapsed into the seat opposite him. Even with his tone purely professional, I could detect the pity, and it fucking infuriated me.

"Can we just get this over and done with?" I asked. "I don't like bothering you at work."

"It's fine. Quiet day."

I doubted that very much, and once again his attempt to reassure me was grating. This was what life had come to. Even Mac, who only had a 10% capacity for seriousness in my presence, was withholding his jokes, like he thought me too fragile to handle them.

When he realised I wasn't going to engage in any chit-chat, he lowered his eyes to the document and picked up his pen. Painful minutes dragged by as he jotted notes in the margin. We should be doing this over email, but he'd insisted on an initial consultation in person. Again, I feared an ulterior motive.

Eventually, he leaned back in his chair and fixed his eyes on me.

"Well?" I said when he didn't speak. "What are your thoughts?"

"How do you feel about this guy?" He glanced down at the page. "Mark Anderson."

I shrugged. "I trust him."

"Do you like him? Do the two of you get along?"

"Yes. Mostly. That's not important."

Mac tapped his pen against the edge of his desk. "Maybe not, but according to this agreement, you'll be spending a lot of time together. If you don't get along, that would be difficult, I imagine."

More difficult than summoning the courage to step outside alone? To face angry mobs with no protection? To hop onto public transport, not knowing who I'd be trapped inside with?

A year ago, I'd mocked Ed's security entourage. Now I'd never wanted anything more.

"What are my obligations?" I tipped my chin towards the document.

"Honesty. No hiding anything. That includes disclosing your whereabouts at all times. You have to agree that any decision you make to do something alone is at your own risk."

He cleared his throat, long fingers wrapping around the knot of his tie to loosen it. Sensing his discomfort, I narrowed my eyes.

"That's just to cover his back, right?" I said. "If something were to happen to me, I couldn't hold him accountable if he didn't know about it."

Mac's head bobbed in a curt nod. "Right."

"What is your professional opinion?" I asked.

A soft sigh escaped from between Mac's parted lips. Hesitation clouded his features, filling me with nerves. Mac was nothing if not assured, especially with his work.

"My professional opinion is that it's excessive," he said. "My personal opinion is that you should sign it."

I stared at him as that sunk in.

"If we weren't friends, you wouldn't recommend I sign it?"

Mac shrugged, waistcoat-clad shoulders flinching. "I'd soften it."

"And you don't want to do that?"

"I don't want to soften the amount of protection afforded to you. The agreement is reasonable. The revisions would only serve to offer you more freedom."

I lowered my eyes to my lap and fiddled with my turtle ring. Barely three months had passed since Costa Rica. We'd been so happy. The world at our fingertips. How had I fucked this up so quickly?

"But, if that's what you want me to do, instruct me as your lawyer and I'll do it."

"The agreement is reasonable?" I glanced up at him.

"Yes."

"Is that your opinion as a lawyer or friend?"

He pressed his lips together. "Both. The lawyer in me can overlook the excessive parts because I know they'll ultimately protect my friend."

Sighing, I rose from the chair and wandered over to his window. One lone gym-goer jogged on the treadmill in the opposite building. What stresses did he have in his life? Could he walk home tonight without fear? Could he check his Twitter feed without reading abuse?

"Maybe that makes me a bad lawyer," Mac continued, "but I hope it makes me a good friend."

With an ironic chuckle, I turned to face him, leaning a shoulder against the glass.

"Six months ago, you put your job above our friendship."

Hurt flashed across his face. "It wasn't quite like that, Sophia."

"I'm not criticising you for it. I understood it then, and I understand it now. I guess I'm just struggling with how much everything around me is changing. It's obviously desperate times if you'd rather be a bad lawyer than a bad friend."

His jaw clenched. "I've read the shit they say about you. These so-called fans of his. They're fucking psychos. Maybe it makes me a selfish friend rather than a bad lawyer, but if this guy is willing to dedicate a year of his life to protecting you, I'm not going to stand in his way."

He'd dropped the lawyer act, and in its place was a passion for our friendship that I'd not witnessed before. Usually we kept things light-hearted, full of banter. Was he genuinely this worried about me?

Tears burned my eyes as I spun back to face the window so Mac wouldn't see me break down. When his hand landed on my shoulder, though, wetness soaked my cheeks.

"Don't pity me," I said through gritted teeth.

"I'm not. I'm comforting you. There's a difference."

"I don't want to be fucking comforted. I'm fucking tired of crying all the time. I'm just so fucking tired."

His fingers tightened around my shoulder before falling away, leaving an icy imprint on my skin.

"Okay. Tell me what I can do, then. As a lawyer or a friend."

Unless Mac's legal capabilities extended to silencing thousands of trolls, he could do nothing as a lawyer. As a friend, I needed someone to promise me everything would turn out fine. Nobody could do that. Not Mac, not Gabby, nobody.

I wiped my eyes and focused on the runner. "You know when that CCTV footage came out and you sent me a message saying I had a certain type? Pretty-boy millionaires?"

"Yeah, I'm sorry, I—"

"No." I turned to face him and folded my arms. "That's what I need. I need you to be you. Take the piss. Mock me. Trivialise it. If you change your behaviour, it makes me feel like this whole shit-show has gotten so serious that you no longer feel able to act normal with me. Then I lose a friend as well as my fucking sanity."

He inhaled a deep breath, then released it softly through his nose. His eyes remained steady on mine, hands clasped behind his back.

"This shit-show has gotten serious, Palmer. I'll take the piss out of you if that will help, but I'm not going to trivialise threats on your life. Sorry."

*

"I signed Mark's contract."

Ed stepped out of the shower, water dripping from his body, and secured a towel around his waist. "You did?"

Nodding, I perched on the edge of the tub and curled my fingers around the cool ceramic. "I hate the idea of taking him away from you, but Mac made me look at it in a different way. He's worried. I spoke to Gabby, and she's worried too. Neither of them said anything to me because they felt like I had enough to deal with, and I just..." I sighed and bowed my head.

"Can't be easy reading hate about your friend. Especially when they know it's not true."

"I think they're more worried from a physical standpoint. Yeah the online hate is shit and it drags me down, but it's just online, right?"

Ed pushed his damp hair out of his face. Droplets sprayed across the steamy mirror behind him.

"Probably, but that doesn't mean nobody will ever say something to your face. Or hassle you in public. Mark will be a barrier from all that."

"I think they're worried I'll be assaulted or something."

"You won't be. These are teenagers. All bark and no bite. Besides, nobody would get anywhere near you."

Sighing, I reached across for his hand. "I don't like that you'll be without your main guy."

"I'm without my main guy on all the days he has off." Ed offered me a gentle smile. "He is the only one I trust with you. I'll have plenty of other men around me. Like an impenetrable fortress."

I squeezed his hand. "What about you? Are you worried about me?"

He gazed down at me, lips flattened into a thin line, like he didn't know the right answer to that.

"I am," he said, "but more mentally than physically. Mark will keep you safe. I have one hundred per cent faith in that. I can't keep you safe from online keyboard warriors or mouthy teenagers in the street."

I closed my eyes and drew in a deep breath. "I don't like that everyone is worrying about me."

"We're your friends, Soph. Of course we'll worry."

"Do you think it'll ever calm down? Will they ever forgive me? The fans?"

A lump travelled down his throat as he swallowed. "I don't know."

And that was all I needed to hear.

*

We gave it another week. In agreement with Zola, neither of us shared anything on social media. That way we could avoid inviting negative comments.

They still found us, though. Old posts, tagging us in tweets, DMs. Once I started reading, I couldn't stop, like someone taking that first drag on a cigarette, then coming back again and again, until it became a habit. An addiction.

When will Teddy come to his senses and leave her?!?!

Clearly a gold digger 💰

Bet she used Teddy to get close to Aaron. What a slut.

What does he even see in her? He's a 10 and she's a 6.5 at best 🤔

Look up 'famefucker' in the dictionary and you'll find her ugly mug 

Like many addicts, at first I tried to hide it, waiting until Ed was out and then binging for hours on end. When that wasn't enough, I stole peeks in the bathroom or late at night once he'd fallen asleep.

Inevitably, I got caught. He got home early one afternoon, trying to surprise me, and instead he found me curled up on the sofa in tears. Blindsided, I lashed out at him. To make matters worse, he stood there and let me scream. He didn't criticise me for looking on social media when he'd told me not to. Instead, he became the outlet for all my pent-up emotions, all my anger and hurt and fear.

Why wouldn't they leave me alone?

What if they found Gabby, and Charlotte, and Mac? Would they become a target, too?

Why did we think a public relationship was a good idea?

Why wasn't Aaron setting the record straight?

Afterwards, with my throat scratchy and my voice so hoarse I could barely speak, he plucked my phone from between my fingers, turned it off, and shut it inside the kitchen cupboard.

"Enough. I've got something to show you."

And he produced a photobook, comprising carefully curated images of our time in Costa Rica together. Us on the beach, with turtles, by the pool, at the market. All smiles and happiness and paradise. Our relationship at its best.

While I'd been secretly reading hate about me, Ed had been secretly compiling a reminder of all the good times we'd shared. A physical reminder. So different to the virtual shit I was reading through my phone.

Rather than reassure me that everything would turn out fine, it reinforced the decision I had to make. I fucking hated these psychos for forcing me into a choice I'd never wanted to face, but while I was attached to Teddy Stone, they'd never let me live in peace. I'd never find that happiness I felt in Costa Rica. I'd fear for my safety. Ed would fear for my sanity. I'd fear for my friends. A relationship that had seemed so perfect risked becoming a burden I'd never wanted to face.

And I couldn't bear the thought of that most of all.

*

"I can't do it anymore. I'm sorry. I've tried. For two weeks. It's felt like two years. I'm mentally exhausted. I just... need to step back."

Helen and Zola stared at me while Ed sat silently by my side, arms folded, head down.

"A step back?" Helen furrowed her brow.

"Yes. If I'm no longer dating him, maybe they'll leave me alone."

At that, she leaned back in her chair and swung her eyes across to Ed. He didn't lift his gaze from the table.

"So, just to be absolutely clear, the pair of you are calling it quits?"

Ed clicked his tongue and looked up at that. "Calling it quits is an insensitive way of saying it."

"It's true, though," I said. "That's what we're doing. That's what I'm doing, anyway. I tried. Really fucking hard. I failed."

"Soph." Ed shook his head. "I know these have been the longest two weeks of your life—"

"No. The longest weeks of my life were when we went our separate ways the first time round, and we didn't talk for over a month. But this is the hardest two weeks for sure."

"I just think—"

"I know what you think, Ed. My mind is made up. I'm sorry. I love you. I'll always love you. But these fucking bitches online..." I flicked my wrist towards my phone lying silently on the table. "...They've won."

Silence fell in the group. Just the right amount of awkward for my words to be taken seriously.

"Okay," Helen said eventually. "Let's try to keep things amicable in public. No criticising each other on social media. If you decide to reconcile in the future, you don't want to make life harder for yourselves."

"Harder than it is now? I asked.

"We'll also give you a month to move out of the hotel," Helen said. "If you're no longer together and no longer working for us, you'll have no need for your room here, right?"

"Right," I said. "I appreciate you giving me a month to find somewhere else."

But inside, my heart sank. It made sense. Of course I'd have to move out. But where to? My blog had just a couple of months' traction behind it, and prior to that I only had a few months' salary. It would dry up instantly on London rent.

"Also, I still want to be involved in Becca's project," I said. "If I quit it just because Ed and I have broken up, it would undermine the cause and suggest I was never serious."

"Mark can coordinate with us here to ensure visits are separate. You turn up together after splitting, the publicity will undermine the cause, too."

"Surely any publicity is good publicity when it comes to generating awareness?" Ed asked.

"No." Zola spoke up for the first time. "All the focus would be on you. Not on the charity. It's distasteful. If you're both serious about the cause, you won't choose to distract from it."

It was a fair point. Separate visits could work better, too. Hopefully there would be less hostility with Becca if we weren't together as a group, although no doubt she'd be thrilled by the news of our break-up...

"Zola and I need to discuss a strategy. We'll reconvene in a couple of days."

Ed's leg had started to bounce beneath the table, and I fought the urge to kick him. Even as we left the room, every fibre in my body begged me to touch him or look at him. I did neither. This was hard enough.

As soon as I was back in my room, I collapsed onto my bed and breathed a sigh of relief.

My phone buzzed with a message.

Ed: That was hard.

Me: I know. I'm sorry.

Ed: Don't be sorry.

Ed: Do you think we fooled them?

***

Thank you for reading :) xx

***

How many of you hated me for a few moments there before you reached the end of the chapter 😅 Did they fool you, or had you guessed they'd concocted a plan together? Do you think this will help reduce the heat on Soph?

If you want to find out, the next 20 chapters are already available on Ream!