Skype 2

Ok, so I've literally just finished writing this. It's unedited because I'm too scared to go back and read through it... I'll be tempted to make changes, but this is how I've always imagined it playing out.

I asked you before which of the characters will have their heart broken, and today we find out.

Before we start, want to guess which it'll be? Daniel or Sophie?

Sarah, xx

~*~*~

"Here are the sketches you requested," Jasmine Gough, my assistant, said as she placed a manila envelope on my corner table. Shuffling the paperwork around the space, she set down a bundle of articles and handed me a Starbucks coffee. "That's your third coffee of the day and those are the articles you requested from the staff writers. You have a call waiting on your Skype, by the way."

I nodded. "I'm aware," I say, not lifting my eyes from the work I was currently busying myself with. The last few days, my head hadn't been in the game and I've been playing catch up all morning, meaning I was finally coming to the end of my workload. I picked up the photographs from a previous shoot, my notes marked on the back of the proofs, and handed them to Jasmine, whose critical stare had been on me the entire time. "Take these to Nigel. Oh, and Jasmine? I love you and I value you, but do not remind me of how many coffees I've had. It annoys me and it makes you sound like my mother. Leave."

Jasmines harrumphed and walked out of my office, slamming the glass door closed as she went. I couldn't help the smile that stretched across my lips at the attitude she gave me; back in London, no one would dream of talking to me the way Jasmine did, nor would they ever behave like that in front of me. Only in America do you get someone as straight forward and direct as Jasmine Gough. As much as I liked Kizzy, and as much as I had tolerated Rachel towards the end, Jasmine was in a league of her own. She was, unlike many that walked these hallowed hallways, content with being an assistant. While others around her were social climbers, biding their time before they advanced their careers whichever way necessary, Jasmine hardly cared about any of that aspect of our business. She lived for fashion and creativity and any job that would allow her to come up close and personal to haute couture fashion and their designers, that was the job she wanted.

It was, in a way, quite cunning of her. While others were busy backstabbing and manipulating their way into that exclusive circle, Jasmine had an instant in with me. I had worked hard for my position and I was lucky that I got to mingle with the elite designers in the world, see collections before they debuted, and go to Fashion Week. Because of my position, wherever I went, Jasmine came too. Need to jump on a place to see Karl Lagerfeld? Jasmine, pack an overnight bag and grab your passport. Preview of the new Marchesa collection? Jasmine, get in the car. That couture dress that Versace sent me as a bribe for a glowing article? Wasn't my style, but it was Jasmine's size.

Like I said, Jasmine is cunning.

"Nigel said that your notes were helpful," my assistant said as she returned to my office after five minutes. It was a little scary how fat paced she could be, going from one place to another in a blink of an eye. "You have another call waiting on Skype. Want me to answer it?"

Before I had the chance to stop her, Jasmine pressed the 'ACCEPT' option on screen and beamed up at the camera. "Oh, hey, Daniel!" She said cheerfully. From the speakers, I could hear Daniel asking if I was around. Jasmine, if it were possible, smiled even more. "Of course she is. She's right here."

She spun the laptop around to face me and gave me a salute as she smirked and left my office. I grabbed the stack of Post-It notes that were on the table and scribbled, 'Kill Jasmine. ASAP,' on the first sheet. I set it inside my Smythson diary under tomorrow's date.

"Sophie?" I heard Daniel's voice once more. Knowing that I could no longer ignore him, I lifted my eyes to the camera and waited for him to speak. "Hey."

Really, that's all he had to say? I rolled my eyes, grabbed my coffee and took a sip. "Is this going to take long?" I ask irritable. "I have a ton of work to catch up with, so let's make this as short as possible, ok?"

"Not ok," Daniel said definitively, making me lean back in my chair in surprise. I have to admit, seeing Daniel in his authoritative demeanour was sexy as hell, especially considering how he wore a crisp white shirt rolled up to his elbows, his black tie loosened around his neck and his beard getting to that slightly overgrown stage. I couldn't help but want to see the goods underneath what he wore. I was too distracted by his appearance that I didn't realise he was speaking until he clicked his fingers in front of the camera. "Are you listening to me?"

"No," I say, not even slightly apologetic. I was having too much fun letting my imagination run wild as I remembered how solid his chest is, the scar running along his stomach, and how he had a happy trail that disappeared under his waist band. I shudder slightly as I remember walking in on him shirtless that Easter weekend. As much as I wanted to be mad at him- hate him, maybe- once I saw his face, I felt nothing but attraction, and a whole lot more besides.

"Why are you smiling?" Daniel asked, making me aware of the goofy grin on my face. Snapping out of it, I look back at Daniel, seeing his confused frown staring back at me. "Imagining my demise? Planning my murder?"

I shook my head. "None of the above," I shrug.

Picking up the laptop, I stand and walk to the couch, sitting down comfortably, forgetting that I had any work to be doing whatsoever. I kicked off my Louboutin heels and brought my legs up to tuck under me, thankful that I had worn trousers today and not a skirt.

"What happened to having work to do?" Daniel asked, looking rather proud of himself that he'd managed to get me to stop doing what I was doing.

"You said that it wasn't ok to make this short," I remind him. Motioning to the couch, I say, "So I'm getting comfortable. So, what are we discussing?"

Daniel paused, staring at me as if an alien had taken over my body. On more than one occasion, he opened his mouth to speak, only to shut it again. Then he frowned, leaned closer to the screen of his computer and watched me through narrowed eyes.

Eventually, he said, "Are you sick?"

"No?" I'm not sure why this sounded like a question. I raised the back of my hand to my forehead but I wasn't burning up, nor did anything feel strange, therefore, I concluded that I was perfectly fine. "Daniel, concentrate."

He blinked, once, twice... a third time. "Thursday," he said, his voice even. Not an iota of emotion held within the word. I expected him to be slightly apologetic, or perhaps remorseful for what happened, but he was calm, as if Thursday could refer to anything. "Well, no, we need to go farther back. Let's start on Wednesday. You left me that answerphone message. Let's start with that."

I groan and close my eyes tightly, remembering the message in my mind. And those three words at the end. I hadn't remembered saying them clearly, but if Daniel was certain, then it must have happened. Uttering 'I love you' hadn't been my intention and I still can't quite explain how I came to say it. Usually, we end the calls with a simple, 'Love you, bye.' Might I have mixed up the two sentiments?

Of course, I know that's what happened, but I'm also fully aware of how easily the words had slipped from my tongue. They wouldn't have materialised had I not have felt them, because for as much as I'm in denial about my relationship with Daniel, I do love him. Or rather, I am in love with him. I have been for some time, and that is quite frankly, terrifying as fuck!

I hardly know him, but there's this gravitational pull towards him that I can't shake. Any rational person would not have answered Daniel's calls back in January, let alone starting to return them. I guess this goes to prove what everyone has always thought of me- I am not rational, whatsoever. If I were, Daniel would not be a part of my life and I wouldn't have been, for the first time in a long time, happy.

When Owen and I broke up before Christmas, I was devastated. Outwardly, I didn't give off this impression. I'm Sophie Clément, for crying out loud. I don't do emotions. I am a shell of a human- heartless, for lack of a better word. In my industry, you have to be tough; there's no time for emotions, and there's certainly no place for them either. It's a mantra I've carried around for far too long.

Ever since my miscarriage and the whole fiasco with Liam O'Keefe, I had detached myself from what it was to feel. Back then, I had never thought about being a parent. A mother. I was twenty-two, not long out of university and trying to find my place in the world. I knew, for certain, at that point in my life that there was no room for a child. Maybe down the line, at thirty-five, I would consider it but I had a world to discover and I thought that all that would- and could­- wait. Until, one night changed all that.

I was, in an uncharacteristic way, excited at the prospect of being a mother. A mum, even. I imagined how I would blossom during my pregnancy and have this euphoric experience of giving birth, followed by years of blissful harmony where I would teach my daughter (I was certain my baby would be a girl) how to bake and decorate cupcakes on a Sunday morning so that we could surprise Daddy when he woke up.

It was all a dream.

Because it was. And then it became a nightmare. Waking up in the middle of the night, a pain tearing through my abdomen, blood everywhere and then that horrified gasp as I realised what was happening. Everything I had imagined, everything I had hoped for, was slowly but surely being ripped from me.

Ectopic pregnancy, they told me after. The foetus was growing in my fallopian tube and would never be viable, they said. The damage was too much and they had to perform surgery. Unfortunately, my chances of conception had diminished by half and they weren't certain how much fertility I had left.

All I heard, however, was, 'You're broken.'

That's how I felt, too. Broken, ruined, hopeless. I'd be unwanted. Worthless. I convinced myself for years that this was what I was. It's why I embarked on that relationship with Adrian. I hadn't known he was married beforehand. I always used that as an excuse after I found out that he was indeed married, and with kids too, but in my reckless state, I couldn't be sure if I would have turned him away had I known about his wife and family back home.

My life after Liam and the miscarriage was wild, living on the edge without a care in the world. I switched off. Nothing, and no one, could get through to me. Not even Hugo would have managed, had he tried. Luckily, all Hugo cared about was finally having a true partner in crime, someone that would go out with him, get drunk and bask in the debauchery.

Adrian Charles, soap opera actor extraordinaire, changed that, somewhat. I felt a sense of balance with him and I was slowly coming back to my old self. Happier, but not happy. Naturally, something had to go wrong. Fining his wedding band was just that. Once more, I felt worthless. Not in the same way, however. This time, I felt used.

After that, I'd all but given up. When I met Owen, I was just existing. He'd always been more in love with me that I'd ever been in love with him, which is why I freaked out when I found the engagement ring. How could he want to be with me? I treated him awfully, didn't love him like he deserved to be loved, and I wouldn't be able to give him what he wanted.

He'd always ask where we saw ourselves in five years' time. I would joke that I'd be travelling the world as some sort of hippy with no ties, while he would talk about having children, moving to the country and living a peaceful life with his family until he was old and grey. He wanted that life and I couldn't give him that.

The break up put me back at square one. The universe had a cruel way of telling me that I didn't deserve the happiness I craved. But then again, the universe had a funny way of sending me exactly what I needed.

A chance at happiness.

"You're not listening to me again!" Daniel's voice came over the speakers, loud and clear, as he yelled at me. "What's the point in this?!"

"Daniel-"

"No!" He snapped. He ran a hand through his hair, clearly annoyed with my lack of attention to what he'd been saying, and muttered profanities to himself. He stood up and walked out of view of the camera, still talking to himself in hushed tones, before reappearing, holding a tumbler of whiskey. He raised the brim of the glass to his lips and drained the content in one swift gulp, cringing as the alcohol hit the back of his throat. "You drive me fucking insane, Sophie."

I hated the way he called me Sophie.

"Insane," he said again, emphasising the word with a bitter tone in his voice. He rubbed a hand wearily down his face, unable to look up at me as he spoke. "I thought we were on the same page, you know? That Friday before you left, I thought we were... I thought it meant something to you as much as it did to me. Why else would you have kissed me? Granted, it wasn't what I'd been hoping for, but you kissed me. You shouldn't have done that."

"Daniel-"

"Let me talk," he growled, his green eyes looking at me furiously down the lens of the camera. The look within them told me not to interrupt, so I simply nodded and waited for him to continue. "We're rushing this. I know that now. I mean, who in their right mind starts to fall for a woman they hardly know?"

I sat, stunned by his words, trying to process the meaning behind them. I couldn't be sure what he meant, but it sounded as if he regretted what was happening between us. If we were rushing this- which I firmly believe we are not- did that mean he wanted to take a step back? And how dare he say that we hardly know each other?!

"I'm not going to force you to feel things that you don't feel," Daniel continued, once again averting his eyes. Was he too cowardly to look at me, or was he simply lying to himself and refused to look at me because I'd be able to see through his bare-faced lie? "I think," he says, taking a deep breath. "I think we should just try giving being friends a go. It worked perfectly for three months, so there's nothing to say that it won't work again. I just think that it would be better like this, that's all, Soph."

Soph? No, he can't say all that and then think he has the right to call me that!

"Daniel-"

"That's why I think you should take Hugo with you to the Met Gala," he once again cut me off, unwilling to give me a chance to speak. "When I told him I was going to be your plus-one, he was pissed off. He kept muttering in French. He wants to go and to be frank, he'd feel a lot more comfortable there with you in my place. Fashion isn't my thing, remember? So, yes, you should take Hugo with you. I don't think I'd have the time off work, anyway. I'll be at Emma's wedding, of course," he says flatly, as if being at the wedding is the last thing he really wants to do. "We can still go together. As friends. If that's what you want?"

What I want?

Nothing about this whole scenario was what I wanted! I didn't want to be friends. I didn't want to take Hugo with me to the Met Gala. I didn't want Daniel at my sister's wedding unless I could introduce him to everyone as my boyfriend. My better half. My missing piece. I didn't want any of that.

I wanted him.

But he didn't want me.

And it fucking kills me.

"Sophie?" He calls out to me.

Blinking away the tears, I nod. "Sure," I finally say, managing to keep my voice from breaking and betraying my feelings. "If that's what you want."

"Is it what you want?" He asked simply.

"I want what you want," I lie, feeling my hands trembling at my side. I knew what was coming next- the full blown hysterics. If I allowed myself to feel, I'd break down and cry. I had to push all that aside, be the Sophie Clément that does not have emotions. Be emotionless. For now. "You want to be friends, so I want to be friends. So, friends we'll be."

An agonising silence passed, broken only when a knock came at my office door. Unable to take my gaze off the computer screen, I waited for whomever it is to make themselves known.

"Sorry, boss," Jasmine's voice sounded strangled as she came to stand in front of me, hidden from Daniel's view behind the laptop screen. "But I need you."

I nod. "Yeah, I'm coming," I said, still not taking my eyes from Daniel. "We're done here anyway. Right, Daniel? We're done?"

"Yes," he said in a cold, distant voice. "We're done."

"Good," I paste a smile on my lips, straining my cheekbones under the weight of how fake it felt. "Speak soon."

Not giving him the opportunity to speak, I disconnect the call and close the laptop screen. Jasmine scurried around my office, closing the blinds over the class walls to shield people from looking inside. Once the last blind was down, she rushed to one of the draws in my desk and pulled out a box of Kleenex before power walking to my side. Taking a seat next to me, she handed me a tissue.

"Stupid question," she says softly, her hand on my forearm. "But, are you ok?"

Reluctantly, I nod. "I'm fine."

"Honey," Jasmine shook her head at me. "I saw how your face fell when you were on that call and I can see your face now. Nothing about what I saw, or what I'm seeing is telling me you're fine, Sophie. If I had to take a guess, I'd say you look heartbroken."

I winced. "At least I look how I feel," I noted, feeling the first of the tears snaking down my cheek, followed by another, and then another, until the floodgates had fully been open. I broke down there, sobbing uncontrollably as the pain began in my chest, emanating from there. My chest heaved, body trembling, head spinning. Heart breaking. "It hurts. Too much. It hurts too much."

Jasmine's arms wrapped around me, her chin resting on my head. "I know," she says, her hands patting me soothingly. "It will. For a long time, when you lose someone you're in love with, it hurts like a bitch."

"You're not helping me," I half laugh through the tears, finding some humour in how inept Jasmine is at comforting people.

"Then tell me how to help you," she commanded, grabbing hold of my shoulders and pushing me away from her. Her worried eyes bore into mine, imploring me. "What do you need me to do?"

Wiping the tears from my eyes, I blink back a new wave of tears for long enough to utter one name. "Hugo."

"Done," Jasmine said, quickly getting up from her seat and heading for the door, but not before passing me a fresh tissue. She paused at the door, giving me another wan smile. "I'll arrange for Hugo's flight for as soon as possible. For the rest of the day, I'm making you unavailable. I'll filter your calls and make sure no one disturbs you. Just a reminder though," she points at my desk. "In the third draw down on right hand side is the bottle of Tequila that Nigel bought you as a welcome gift. Use is wisely, ok? And Sophie?"

I looked up at her, seeing that she was in two minds as whether or not she should say what was on her mind. I gave her an encouraging nod.

"For what it's worth," she says quietly. "I don't think you two are done. Unfinished business is never done, no matter what."

She opened the door then, slipping out and shutting the door behind her, leaving me to crumble alone.

Always alone.

The universe really is a cruel mistress.

~*~*~

Ok, time for some quotes and a sad song... *hugs*

Yeah, so it was Daniel who broke SOPHIE'S heart.

I always knew it was going to be like that. It had to be her.

I know it's all off the back of a misunderstanding, but if you're expecting them to be back on track any time soon- you're sadly mistaken.

Please comment on how cruel I am here :)

Where do they go from here?!

And, just because she's amazing, Jasmine has become my second favourite character.

Next week, there won't be a Skype call on Saturday because Sophie will be back in London because it's the London Marathon. Not sure if Daniel is making an appearance in that update. Maybe he will, but maybe it will all be too raw for Sophie. I'll let you know midweek.

Sorry for breaking you Danphie dream. It's ok to hate me. The romantic in me hates me too.

Sarah xx