25. Liam
25
LIAM
The sun is setting over the orchard, casting a warm golden light that filters through the leaves of the apple trees. I stand in the center of the venue, taking in the beauty of the place where June and Damon will soon be married. The trees are strung with fairy lights, and the tables are set with white linens and floral centerpieces. It’s coming together, but there’s still so much to do.
Emma is up on a ladder, hanging more lights. She seems determined to finish the setup tonight, her focus intense. I take a moment to admire her dedication and the way she moves with purpose, every gesture deliberate.
I pull out my phone and call my dad. It rings a few times before he answers.
“Hey, Dad. I might not be coming home tonight,” I say, glancing up at Emma as she steadies herself on the ladder.
“Oh, really? Is it a really special date this time?” he teases.
I roll my eyes, even though he can’t see me. “This is for working on Damon’s wedding, not a date.”
“Sure, sure,” he says with a chuckle. “Good luck with the setup. Send my greetings to Emma.”
“Will do. Thanks, Dad.” I end the call and slip my phone back into my pocket, then walk over to where Emma is working.
My job is to help ready the lights that I hand over to her. The fairy lights I hold in my hand feel like a tangled mess, mirroring the jumble of emotions swirling within me. I can’t seem to forget that moment a few days ago, when Emma effortlessly waltzed across the makeshift dance floor at the rehearsal dinner, her laughter dancing on the air. And then, when we took that impromptu turn on the floor, something shifted. The electricity in her touch, the way her eyes hold mine… It's undeniable.
Pushing those thoughts aside, I focus on untangling the lights. The orchard, chosen for June and Damon's wedding because of its picturesque charm, is still a work in progress. String lights draped across the branches need to be hung, lanterns have to be placed strategically on the tables, and the whole place needs a general sprinkling of fairy dust (or at least, its closest equivalent).
Emma, perched precariously on a ladder, hangs lanterns with the focused intensity of a woman on a mission. The last rays of the setting sun cast long shadows across the orchard, painting the scene in a soft golden light.
“You really think we'll get it all done tonight?” I call out, my voice echoing in the now-quiet evening air.
She looks down, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Don't underestimate the power of caffeine and a little creative OCD,” she replies, expertly maneuvering a lantern into place.
I chuckle. “Creative OCD? That sounds like a dangerous combination.”
“It is,” she says, grinning as she descends the ladder with surprising grace. “But it's gotten me through a hundred weddings, so I trust it.”
I laugh, shaking my head. “Just don’t break down on me. I don’t want to have to carry you out of here.”
Brushing a stray strand of hair out of her face, I reach out and help her down the last rung. The way her fingers brush against mine sends a jolt through me, a reminder of the spark that ignited earlier.
We stand in comfortable silence for a moment, the only sound the gentle chirping of crickets and the rustling of leaves in the evening breeze.
“June and Damon seem really happy, don't they?” I finally say, breaking the silence.
“They do,” Emma says, a soft smile gracing her lips. “They're absolutely perfect for each other. I want to give them the best wedding this town has ever seen.”
The passion in her voice resonates with me. It isn't just about the decorations or the perfect cake. It's about creating a celebration of love, of creating a memory that will last a lifetime.
“So how did you get into wedding planning, anyway?” I ask, genuinely curious.
Her smile widens. “It's kind of a funny story,” she begins, settling down on a nearby hay bale. “Ever since I was a little girl, I used to dream about weddings. Big, beautiful, fairytale kind of weddings. I even had a whole notebook filled with sketches of wedding dresses and centerpieces.”
“A wedding planner's dream journal,” I tease.
She laughs. “Exactly! But back then, I thought it was about having the perfect wedding for myself. Then I realized,” she continues, her voice taking on a thoughtful tone, “that most people don't have the time or the creativity to plan their dream wedding. And that's where I come in. I get to help people create their perfect day, to turn their dreams into reality.”
Her enthusiasm is infectious. As she talks about her work, about the different couples she's met, the challenges she's faced, I find myself captivated. Here is a woman who is passionate about what she does, who pours her heart and soul into creating a beautiful experience for others.
The setting sun has dipped below the horizon by now, casting the orchard in an ethereal twilight. The fairy lights we've hung twinkle like a million tiny stars, casting a soft, romantic glow.
“You know,” I say, my voice softer than intended, “you're incredible, Emma. You put so much thought and effort into everything you do. It's truly inspiring.”
Her cheeks flush a delicate pink. “Thank you, Liam,” she murmurs, her voice barely a whisper.
We sit there in comfortable silence for a moment longer, the air around us crackling with unspoken emotions.
Then, as if drawn by an invisible force, I lean closer, the space between us shrinking with each passing second. Her eyes meet mine, a question swirling within their depths.
The tension between us is palpable, and before I know it, we’re leaning in. Our lips touch, and I pull in her full bottom lip between my teeth. She laughs against my mouth, and I dig in deeper, probing her soft lips with my tongue. I can taste the faint hint of the coffee we shared earlier. My hand finds its way to the back of her neck, pulling her closer. Her hands bury themselves in the nape of my neck, and she leans back, pulling me with her as she lowers toward the ground.
My phone suddenly rings, shattering the stillness. I pull back reluctantly and glance at the screen. It’s my mom.
“I have to take this,” I say, my voice a little hoarse.
Emma nods, giving me a bright smile. “Go ahead. I’ll get back to work.”
The night air is cool as I step away from the string of fairy lights Emma and I just finished hanging. I take a deep breath and answer, hoping to keep the conversation brief.
“Hey, Mom,” I say, trying to sound upbeat.
“Hi, sweetheart,” she replies, her voice warm and familiar. “How’s everything going? You’ve been awfully quiet lately.”
“Just busy, you know. Working at the hospital and helping out with Damon’s wedding.”
There’s a pause, and I can almost see her raising an eyebrow on the other end of the line. “Busy, huh? Or maybe you’ve found yourself a girl in that little backwater town your dad lives in?”
I glance over at Emma, who’s back on the ladder, meticulously adjusting a string of lights. She catches my eye and waves. I wave back, feeling a rush of warmth. “That’s not why, Mom. Really, it’s just work and wedding stuff.”
“Uh-huh,” she says, clearly unconvinced. “So, it’s true then? You’re seeing someone?”
I hesitate for a moment, then nod, even though she can’t see me. “Yeah, I’m dating someone.”
“Oh, really? Did your dad set you up with her?”
“No, he didn’t,” I say, chuckling a little. “I met her on my own.”
She’s silent for a moment, then starts grilling me. “What’s she like? Tell me everything.”
I glance at Emma again, watching as she steps down from the ladder and stretches, a satisfied look on her face. “Her name’s Emma. She’s smart, driven, and incredibly talented. She’s a wedding planner, and she’s been amazing at organizing this whole event for June and Damon. She’s beautiful too, in a real, natural way.”
“Wow, she sounds wonderful,” my mom says, genuinely impressed. “When do I get to meet her?”
I swallow hard, realizing the weight of what I’m about to say. “I’ll bring her to meet you one day. I promise.”
There’s a moment of silence, and I can almost hear her smile. “You sound serious about this one, Liam.”
The realization hits me like a ton of bricks. In my mind, the relationship between Emma and me has become real, solid, and I didn’t even recognize it until now.
“Liam? Are you still there?”
“Yeah, Mom. I’m here,” I say, shaking off my reverie.
“You sound like a man in love,” she teases gently.
I quickly deny it, my heart racing. “No, it’s not like that. We’re just…seeing where things go.”
She laughs, a knowing sound that makes my stomach flip. “The fact that you’re denying it makes me believe it even more.”
“Where did you hear I’m dating, anyway?”
“Don’t worry about that,” she says lightly. “I have my ways.”
I frown, a bit flustered. “Is it Dad?”
“Oh, please,” she scoffs. “I don’t chat with your father enough to get updates on your love life from him.”
I take a deep breath, then ask a question that’s been gnawing at me. “Mom, when did you fall out of love with Dad?”
The line goes silent for a moment. “It was about eighteen months after we got married,” she says finally. “I realized our ways didn’t align. But we stayed together for you.”
“Why didn’t you divorce sooner then?” I ask, feeling a knot tighten in my chest.
“Because of you, Liam. We wanted to give you a stable home, at least until you were older.”
Her words hit me hard, and I feel a rush of emotions—anger, sadness, confusion. “Do you know how miserable that makes me feel?”
“Liam, I?—”
“Goodbye, Mom,” I say abruptly, ending the call before she can respond.
I stand there for a moment, my thoughts a chaotic mess. I feel a hand on my arm and turn to see Emma, concern etched on her face.
“Are you okay?” she asks softly.
I nod, not trusting myself to speak just yet. She squeezes my arm, a comforting gesture, and I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself.
“Let’s finish up here,” I say, my voice rough. “We’ve still got a lot to do.”
She nods, understanding. We work in silence for a while, the tension slowly easing as we focus on the task at hand. The fairy lights cast a warm glow around us, and I find myself calming down, the rhythm of the work grounding me.