Chapter 16
EMMA
I splurge on an Uber to the restaurant, nerves buzzing the whole ride, and I’m not surprised to see Liam already there, even though I’m early.
He stands when he sees me, that easy smile tugging at his lips. Then he leans in and presses a kiss to my cheek, his hands settling briefly on my shoulders.
“You look amazing,” he says.
He’s in a blue button-down, sleeves rolled to his elbows, paired with dark denim. His sandy hair flops into his eyes a bit in a way that is sexier than it has a right to be.
“You do, too,” I say, feeling my cheeks go hot as I blush under his direct gaze.
It’s really so silly. He’s seen all of me back when we were together, and more recently on our FaceTime sessions.
And I mean all of me. I’m not embarrassed about what we did.
But standing here now, with him right in front of me, I can think about what it might be like to touch him for real, for him to touch me.
Not with my hand, but his.
Not just imagining what he could do to me, but actually experiencing it.
Again.
As a grown adult and not a fumbling, inexperienced teen.
“You okay?” Liam asks.
“I’m good,” I say, realizing I was daydreaming about sex with Liam in the lobby of this restaurant. “Is our table ready?”
He nods, and we turn, following the hostess to a small, semi-private table at the back of the restaurant. The lighting is low and romantic, and Liam’s green eyes glow in the soft flicker of a tabletop candle.
“Let us know if there is anything we can do to make your experience more comfortable, Mr. Callaghan,” the hostess says.
As she walks away, I lift an eyebrow and grin. “Mr. Callaghan?” I ask. “Aren’t we fancy since we joined the NHL?”
He chuckles and shakes his head. “Nah. My teammate’s wife owns this place or something like that. “I’ve actually, uh, not dated anyone in Chicago. I had to ask the guys what they recommended.”
I’m dubious, and I’m certain my face says so. “What do you mean you haven’t dated since you got to Chicago? You’ve been here, what, four or five years?”
“I mean, it’s not that I haven’t...um...” He clears his throat, and it’s his turn to blush, which tickles me to no end. “I just...never wanted a relationship. So I didn’t date.”
“Ah,” I say, grinning. “Look, it’s been a while since we were together. I would expect you to move on, to be with other people. It’s fine.”
With a nod, Liam studiously sets his gaze on his wine menu. A moment later, a waiter appears to ask if we’d like something to drink. Liam asks for a wine recommendation, and we agree on a bottle of red.
When the waiter walks away, Liam says, “It’s not fine, Emma, not really. Not for me.”
I cock my head in question. “What’s not fine?”
“That we’ve been with other people. I mean, we’re adults, and you’re right, we both had the right to move on. And people have, you know, needs. But my heart was broken after you left, and it never healed.”
This is a big speech out of Liam, a big show of feelings that isn’t his norm. And it embarrasses me, because I hate that I did that to him.
I hate that he was pining for me that way.
I hate that I owe him an answer that I’m not ready to give.
I clear my throat, thankful that the waiter is back quickly with our wine and some water.
As he uncorks the bottle and goes through the whole rigmarole of pouring a bit and having Liam taste it, I sip my water, trying to will my stupid, hammering heart to calm its fluttering in my chest.
Wine poured, I take a sip, then gently ask, “How’s your mom doing? Any better since the last time we talked?”
He exhales, long and tired, staring at the table for a second before answering. “She’s… the same. Some good days, mostly bad ones. The doctors say she’s stable, but it’s not the kind of stable that gives you hope, you know?”
I nod, my chest tightening. “I’m sorry, Liam. That’s got to be hard.”
He shrugs, but it’s the kind of shrug that hides more than it dismisses. “She’s taken care of. That’s the best I can do now.”
I’m not sure how to answer him, what to say that would be appropriate.
“I continue to pay for the sins of my parents,” he says softly, almost a whisper, and more to himself than to me.
“What does that mean?” I ask.
When he looks at me, he seems so haunted that I feel my eyes go wide with shock.
“Tell me,” I say. “You can tell me anything. Truly.”
He’s quiet for a long time, staring at his menu but clearly deciding how much he wants to share. The waiter returns to take our orders, and I’m on the edge of my seat when he finally looks me in the eyes.
“My dad was a gambling addict, Emma,” he says.
“And that, in and of itself, is whatever. Not a surprise, probably. But when I got to Chicago, he started asking me for money. Ten thousand here, five thousand there. I would give it to him, and he’d promise he was done, that he was going to stop, then he’d come back with an even bigger debt.
And I would pay it because he was my dad, you know?
I felt obligated to help him. But my rookie contract wasn’t great, and my mom’s care costs so much that pretty soon I had to tell him no. I didn’t have it.”
“Oh, Liam,” I say. “I’m so sorry.”
“It’s fine. It’s whatever. He sort of left me alone for a while, and I actually thought maybe he’d turned over a new leaf, but then he came back to me again and said the debt was more.”
“How much more?” I ask.
“Millions, Emma.” His face is solemn. “I couldn’t help him.
And soon after, he threw himself off a bridge, and I thought it was over.
You know, dead people can’t pay debts. But I guess he’d told them that his son was a professional hockey player, so they came after me.
Said the debt was too high to forgive, that I had to pay it.
I refused, so they started showing up outside my house, following me, threatening me. They’ve slashed the tires of my car.”
“So those men in the garage?” I venture.
He nods. “Marcus O’Rear. He’s a loan shark and enforcer for the Browning family.”
“And the Browning family are...”
“Irish mafia,” Liam says. “A low-level crime family. Did you know that Chicago is, like, infested with mafia activity? I had no idea, not until recently. And the Browning family is, like, at the bottom of the food chain, but that’s neither here nor there. They still want their money.”
Dumbfounded, I just sit there, trying to process. “Really? Mafia? I had no idea that was a thing anymore.”
He lets out a short, dry laugh. “Yeah. Apparently, it is. Leave it to my dad to fuck around and find out.”
The waiter brings our salads, and for a while, we both just eat quietly.
I can’t stop thinking about what he said. I feel a great deal of sadness on Liam’s behalf.
I always thought hockey had saved him, that it pulled him away from the constant drama of his parents. That was the reason I left when I decided to keep the baby. I didn’t want anything to stand in the way of his opportunity to get out of that situation.
It turns out that more money and more success just mean more problems.
After a minute, he sighs and says, “Didn’t mean to dump all this on you. Not exactly great date talk.”
“It’s okay,” I say softly. “I’d rather you be honest.”
He gives a slight nod and pushes his salad around with his fork.
“I just… need you to know where things stand. I’m not rich, Em.
My dad’s dead, and I’ve got the mafia breathing down my neck for money I don’t have.
My contract isn’t great. I’m still living in my dad’s old house.
I drive a beat-up Honda. Every extra dollar I make goes to my mom’s care. ”
He pauses, looking down, voice rough. “The only thing that’s made me happy in the last six years is hockey.”
I stare at him, my fork frozen halfway to my mouth.
He lets out a small, bitter laugh and takes another sip of wine. “I’m sorry, I’m such an idiot. This is not the romantic dinner I was going for.”
I shake my head, recover from my shock. “No. Liam. There is no reason to apologize. You tried to take care of two people you care about, even though they did not do the same for you. You’re a good person in a shitty situation. That’s all.”
He bites his lower lip. “I just...you looked at me like I had three heads there.”
I laugh. “No. Actually, I was shocked at how much you were sharing with me. I usually find you kind of hard to read. You have a perfect poker face, and you don’t say a lot, so it can be hard to know what you’re feeling or thinking.”
“Seriously?” he asks, making a disbelieving face.
“Yeah,” I say.
“Hmm. Well, yes, I suppose I am quiet, usually. In my own head, mostly. And I try not to let my emotions get the best of me. I suppose you’ve always been the one person I felt I could be myself with. You were the person I always wanted to talk to, the person I knew would always listen.”
My heart warms at this. “You were my best friend,” I hear myself say. “From that first day in middle school, when we sat next to each other in science class.”
He nods. “Same.”
Our main entrées arrive, and we refill our wine glasses, then order a second bottle.
“I just needed you to know,” he says again.
“I’m struggling here, and I don’t want to pull you into something that’s out of my control.
I have...I have friends who are trying to help me, and I feel more hopeful than I have in a long time, but I’m not out of the woods.
And you have a kid. I don’t want to put anyone in danger. ”
“Thank you for your honesty,” I say. “I appreciate it. Can I be honest with you, too?”
He nods as he takes a bite of his lasagna.
“My sister always wanted me to break up with you back then.”
He gives me a lopsided grin. “I hate to break it to you, but I already knew that.”
I roll my eyes. “She just felt like your home life was so chaotic, and I cared so much about you that she was worried I’d be derailed from my own goals and dreams.”
Liam’s expression goes a little dark. “I mean, I get it. I worried about that all the time. I understand why your sister would be worried I would derail you.”
“I never felt that way, Liam. Not ever.”
He doesn’t meet my gaze when he says, “Until you did. You left.”
I sit quietly for a moment. Words won’t come, and I lose my appetite.
I want to tell him, I do.
I want to tell him the truth that it was I who didn’t want to derail him.
I chose to have a child, and I didn’t want him to feel obligated to give up his dreams to raise a kid he might not have even wanted.
But I am terrified.
Instead, I just say, “Maybe this was a bad idea.”
“For sure, it’s a bad idea. For lots of different reasons.”
We look at each other, and everything hits at once—old pain, lingering love, confusion, guilt… and that impossible, magnetic pull that’s always been there.
The heat and chemistry are all there, that connection we’ve always had. And I want him despite everything.
Despite knowing that this is a bad idea.
I want him more than anything I’ve ever wanted before.
“Maybe we should...pay the bill,” I say.
He looks at my half-eaten plate of food, and I can see that he wants to say more, but he doesn’t. He motions to the waiter and asks him to box up the items and bring the bill.
“Oh, the bill is managed, sir,” the waiter says, grabbing our plates. “Courtesy of the Campisi family.”
Liam’s mouth opens, then closes. He pushes his mouth into a line and nods. “Well, thank the Campisi family for a lovely meal, please.”
The waiter leaves and then returns with a bag containing to-go containers, along with a second paper bag holding our unopened second bottle of wine. “I also included a tiramisu to try later.”
I smile. “Thank you.”
Liam and I head out into the evening, and I call an Uber, trying to figure out how I feel.
I want him, but I’m afraid to say it.
I owe him answers, but I’m worried it will make him angry or scare him away.
I should walk away.
I should go home and close the box, as Talia said.
When the car comes, I decide to leave it up to him. I open the door and slide in without shutting it.
I just leave it open, and he can either get inside or shut the door on this thing forever.
I’ll have my answer either way.
I wait, and he seems to be weighing options, as well. But when he finally slides inside and shuts the door, he gives the Uber driver his address instead of the one I entered in the app.
He turns to me and says, “I’ve always kind of liked bad ideas. How about you?”