20. Emma
20
EMMA
The rhythmic hum of the engine fills the car, a steady thrumming counterpoint to the jumbled mess of thoughts swirling in my head.
Liam’s full concentration is on the road as he drives us to the next town for the cake tasting appointment. I can't help but steal glances at him as he drives. His side profile is all strong jawline and focused eyes, effortlessly handsome. It’s like looking at someone carved out of my dreams.
The memory of this morning makes me smile—meeting his dad, sharing breakfast together. It felt so natural, like we were a real couple. But I know better. Liam Miller is never one to commit. I know it firsthand from our first meeting.
Liam glances over at me. “What are you thinking about?” His voice breaks through my thoughts.
I glance over at him, shaking my head slightly. “Nothing.”
He looks at me skeptically for a moment, then turns his attention back to the road. “Hope you aren’t feeling uncomfortable about this morning with my dad?”
I chuckle softly. “Honestly, it was more comfortable being with your dad than with you.”
Liam laughs, a genuine sound that warms my heart. “Touché.”
I toy with a loose strand of hair, avoiding his gaze. If he knew what was going on in my head, I doubt he’d be this comfortable around me.
The way his dad accepted me so easily this morning was surprising yet comforting. These are the moments I’ve always dreamt about—dating a man, meeting his family, sharing meals together, getting to know one another.
Liam fits the image perfectly on the surface. Devilishly handsome, with a career that commands respect, his charm is undeniable. He can make my stomach erupt in a frenzy of butterflies and ignite a fire in my core with a single touch. But beneath that alluring facade lurks a truth I can't ignore—commitment is the last thing Liam Miller seems to want.
He raises an eyebrow, a playful challenge in his eyes. “So, you’re that impressed by him?”
I sigh. “Maybe a little,” I admit, hesitantly meeting his gaze. “Your dad being…so cool this morning… It was all a bit unexpected.”
“Yeah,” he says, a wry chuckle escaping his lips. “Dad has a talent for doing that.”
We share a moment of laughter, and he corroborates my thoughts. “He's always been like that. The embarrassing dad at school plays, the one who volunteered to chaperone field trips even when none of the other parents wanted to. He was the one who picked me up from school, showed up at parent-teacher meetings, and took me and my friends out most times.”
“He sounds…awesome,” I mumble with a smile.
Liam nods. “My childhood friends used to tell me how cool my dad was. For a couple of years in high school, I wasn’t sure if he was really cool or just embarrassing, to be honest.”
“Aren’t we all embarrassed about our folks at that point in our lives?”
“Yeah,” he nods. “I learned quicker than others that I love the things he did when he wasn’t there to do them anymore.”
He falls silent for a moment, his grip tightening on the steering wheel. I can hear the underlying sadness in his voice.
“Must have been tough when he left,” I say gently.
Liam shrugs, his expression unreadable as he chuckles, but there's no humor in it. “I managed well without him, I think.”
The words hang heavy between us, a stark contrast to the playful banter just moments before. I'm not sure if he wants to delve deeper, so I nod, deciding not to probe further.
The silence stretches for a few minutes, thick with unspoken works as I stare at him. Then, to my surprise, a crack appears in his carefully constructed mask.
“Actually,” he starts, his voice barely a whisper, “I missed him. A lot.”
My heart aches for him. The tough, arrogant exterior he presents to the world seems to crumble at the edges for the first time around me, revealing a vulnerable core I hadn't expected.
Just as I'm about to reach out, wanting to offer some form of comfort, the navigator’s voice announces that we've arrived. The car slows to a stop in front of the lavish bakery with its windows adorned with colorful frosting swirls and gingerbread men.
I would like to keep talking, but Damon comes forward and knocks on the window. We both get out, and June grabs my arm, pulling me aside. My friend has a mischievous glint in her eyes.
“So, Emma,” she begins, her voice conspiratorial. “Yesterday? Spill the beans! I’d bet things got…really heated last night.”
I flush, caught off guard by her bluntness. “We just left the club to talk things out, June,” I hedge, hoping to avoid the details.
“You left to where?”
“His house. We needed a quiet place to talk.”
June raises an eyebrow. “And that’s all you did? Talk?”
My cheeks burn as my eyes drift over to Liam, seeing him grin as he and Damon exchange words by the car. He looks relaxed, carefree. Seeing him so at ease, the earlier vulnerability vanishing without a trace, sparks a flicker of understanding.
“You’re hiding something, aren’t you?”
“No,” I shake my head lamely, searching for a way to deflect further questioning. June isn't known for letting things go easily, but thankfully, Damon’s voice cuts in.
“Alright ladies,” he sings in a playful tone, “shall we get to the important stuff? Free cake awaits! Sweetheart?”
June chuckles, taking her husband’s outstretched arm. “Don’t get too eager. I’m making sure you don’t eat too much so you can fit into your suit on the big day.”
“What do you mean? I’m fit.” Damon gasps, checking himself out. “I haven't had a decent slice of cake in ages, now. Don’t be a joy-killer.”
We all laugh as we enter the bakery, greeted by the warm aroma of sugar and vanilla. The interior is set beautifully with towering display cases filled with an array of delectable pastries. A friendly-faced woman with a flour-dusted apron appears behind the counter, a welcoming smile on her lips.
“Welcome!” she greets warmly. “We have your cake tasting reserved for this afternoon. Are you ready to get started?”
“Absolutely!” Damon booms, rubbing his hands together in anticipation. “Let's see what culinary delights you have in store for us today.”
June rolls her eyes as the woman leads us to a secluded table in the back, presenting us with a menu of tasting options. The next half-hour unfolds in a delightful battle of tastes and textures. We sample a variety of creations—decadent chocolate cakes, light and fluffy chiffon cakes, fruit-filled delights bursting with flavor.
We’re still undecided when Liam points to the most traditional-looking cake on the list—a three-tiered monstrosity with layers of vanilla cake, buttercream frosting, and an avalanche of plastic flowers adorning the top.
“Classic vanilla for the win every time,” he declares, a smug smile playing on his lips.
I shoot him a playful glare. “Come on, Liam,” I tease. “Have some imagination! This isn't some grandmother's birthday party.”
He chuckles, “It’s the best one here.” He takes a bit of it. “This red velvet,” he pronounces, savoring a bite, “has a hint of citrus in the frosting. Interesting twist, but it clashes with the richness of the cake itself.”
To my surprise, the bakery owner nods in agreement with a delighted smile. “Exactly! We were aiming for a subtle tang to balance the sweetness, but it seems you have a very refined palate, sir.”
I take a bite of the cake, and my eyes widen at the taste. June and Damon taste it too, and settle for that cake.
Liam looks at me and spreads his arms, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. I watch him with a grin, a newfound respect bubbling within me. This man, who can be so frustratingly arrogant at times, but he has the charm that I can no longer deny.
Later, as we finalize our cake design with the baker, I ask him, unable to contain my curiosity. “So,” I start, leaning in conspiratorially, “how do you know so much about cake?”
Liam chuckles, a hint of pride in his voice. “Well,” he begins, “turns out I've dabbled in a bit of baking.”
I raise an eyebrow, skepticism etched on my face. “You? Baking?”
He beams. “Don't knock it till you try it.”
“He’s right.” Damon, catching the tail end of our conversation, chuckles heartily. “Liam here once baked us a cake during an expedition. It was the birthday of one of the kids at the IDP camp in Liberia. He didn’t have much to work with, but the smiles on the kids’ faces were priceless.”
I turn toward him, my mouth hanging open. Liam shrugs noncommittally. “I learned from my mom. She owns a popular bakery in California.”
I blink in surprise. “Your mom owns a bakery? Which one?”
“Ever heard of ‘Sweet Indulgence’?” he asks, a twinkle of pride in his eyes.
I gasp. “You’re kidding! That’s your mom’s shop? It's a legend!”
He nods, smiling. “Yep. Learned everything I know about baking from her.”
The revelation stuns me. This man, with his devil-may-care attitude, is actually an enigma. No one would have pictured hard-edged, alpha-male Liam Miller as a man who bakes and volunteers his time to make a cake for a kid’s birthday.
It feels like another layer of him peels back, revealing a surprising side to him. Every time I think I have him figured out, another facet emerges, another layered complexity hidden beneath his arrogant exterior. It makes him all the more intriguing. And a little bit more irresistible.
The late afternoon sun cast long shadows as we exit the bakery and its thick sweet scent air of sugar and vanilla. Outside, Damon leans against his truck, a mischievous glint in his eyes, June bouncing excitedly on the passenger side. The soon-to-be-wed couple climb into Damon’s truck. June's laughter rings in the air as she playfully nudges Damon, their excitement palpable. Damon looks back at me with a grin.
“Hey, Emma, you coming with us?” he calls out, his hand on the door.
I hesitate for a moment, my eyes drifting to Liam. “Give me a moment,” I reply, moving toward him. I wrap my arms around his waist, feeling the warmth of his body seep into mine. “There's a lot I’ve yet to learn about you,” I say, looking up into his eyes.
Liam's smile is soft, and he leans down to kiss me gently. “We’ll have time for that,” he murmurs against my lips. He pulls back slightly, his expression turning a bit more serious. “I need to get to the hospital. Even though my dad’s given me time to rest, I don’t feel comfortable leaving him alone to do all the work.”
I nod, understanding the weight of his responsibilities. “I get it. When will we see each other next?”
Before Liam can answer, Damon pokes his head out of the truck and shouts, “Liam! Keep your calendar open! I need help picking out my suit!”
I turn to my brother, irritation flickering in my eyes. “Damon, you can’t just take Liam on all these duties and hog his time. He’s got other things to do!”
Damon smirks, unfazed by my outburst. “Liam is my best man, Emma. It's his duty to help me.”
I plant my hands on my hips, determined not to back down. “Well, he's also my assistant wedding planner, so I get a say, too.”
Liam chuckles, stepping between us to defuse the situation. He gently takes my hand and leads me to the truck’s back seat. “Climb in,” he murmurs softly, giving me a reassuring kiss. “I’ll call you later, I promise.”
As he helps me into the truck, he leans up, brushing a soft kiss across my lips. The touch sent a jolt through me, a welcome distraction from the knot of emotions twisting in my stomach. June starts whistling at our public display of affection. “Get a room, you two!” she teases, her laughter infectious.
We all laugh, the tension melting away. I wave at Liam as Damon drives off, a fluttering feeling in my chest. It's almost surreal, like for a moment, I feel like his real girlfriend, not just someone caught up in a whirlwind of confusing emotions and unexpected connections.