49. LIAM
49
LIAM
Three Summers Ago
Gliding through the entryway of the restaurant is Callum. Alone .
Everyone else is already here. I arrived first, purposely. Wanted a seat watching the door in case Emerson decided to show. She was invited, after all.
Plus, when she left, Emerson didn’t take her stuff with her last night.
Which was a mistake. Her bags and that I should never have let her leave. I was her father 2.0—maybe not entirely; I may not have left, but I allowed her to walk out without a fight.
I thought I was giving her space—to think, to do whatever the hell she needed—but what I thought—no, what I knew she needed—was for me to have her stay, to keep fighting for us and prove that we are enough .
I was selfish and impulsive. When she wanted to leave, I said go. I needed Emerson gone. I was furious with her.
As everyone arrived, a sliver of hope formed in my heart. Maybe she’d come to get her belongings this morning. She didn’t. Perhaps she’d show up now. She didn’t.
That sliver waned with each step he took with no one behind him.
Callum shakes his head no as he gets to the table.
I push my chair back in disappointment. A dull red takes over my vision. Irritated that she’s running. Irritated that she can’t choose me, when I’ve chosen her.
“Trade me seats,” I demand of Audrey. She does as I say, glancing between me and her brother .
“Switch him, Auds,” Callum says to her.
My back is now to the door.
“Where’s States?” George aims the question in my direction.
The red increases a shade darker.
“Not coming,” Callum thankfully answers for me.
George follows up with, “Does that have anything to do with why she stayed at our place last night?”
Callum and Beatrix shoot daggers at him with their eyes. Even from where I’m sitting, I can see Beatrix’s hand under the table squeezing his knee to restrain him.
“Doesn’t matter where she slept; she wouldn’t have shown up anyway,” I bite back.
“That’s not tr—”
The red increases a shade darker.
I cut him off. “Oh, come off it, Callum. You know she wouldn’t have shown.” I won’t let him finish his lie.
“What happened?” Audrey’s mouth frowns with uncertainty. The rest of her face follows—a look I’ve never seen her wear. She’s the most certain person I know. Thoughtful, intentional, and a shit ton of words I would have described Emerson with.
“I told her I loved her, and she said nothing back.”
Both girls’ faces fall, their expressions telling me I look as heartbroken as I feel.
I pushed Emerson too far last night by asking her if she did. I could have survived with my assumptions and waited until she was ready to say it.
The red increases a shade darker.
“Was that last night?” Beatrix asks.
“Sunday.”
Beatrix smiles. “No wonder you two were M.I.A. for an hour on Tuesday night. Those eyes weren’t friend eyes you two were giving each other. The heat was pal-pa-ble.”
“They’ve never been friends.” George lets out a chuckle.
“Aye, neither have we,” Bea says. George kisses her cheek .
“We always have been to her.” I roll my eyes, taking a large drink of my Negroni. Flicking my gaze from the waiter to my drink. “She wears a damn good mask and knows how to lead someone on.”
“I don’t think she led you on,” Beatrix says.
All of our heads turn to her.
“What? He just told her the other day. It’s not like he said it years ago, and this is now happening.”
I did tell her years ago. It was a roundabout way, but in Amsterdam, before we left, in bed, I told her I was an example of someone who loved her. I’ve loved her for three years.
“I disagree. States did,” George says. “Cal does, too.”
“Audrey?” Beatrix goes to her for support.
“I’m not making this girls versus boys. Why do you think she led you on?” Audrey asks.
“I saw everything with her, and she let me. Kids, a house here or there, a white picket fence, and dogs, if that’s what she wanted. Life partners—all of it I saw with her because she’s—she’s—Too bad Emerson is fucked in the head. Doesn’t believe that love exists.”
They all sit there and stare at me.
“Who doesn’t believe in love?” I ask rhetorically.
“For someone who doesn’t, Emerson sure knows how to show it,” George says. “And that’s leading Liam on!”
“Add that to the list!” I slam my glass on the table. Run my hands through my hair. “When I look at her,” my hands go to my eyes, then through my hair again. I think about Emerson. “I know she’d be the best life partner. She has no capacity to the amount or the way she can love someone. At least, I thought she did. Maybe this has all been a game to her. I’m the pawn. If that’s the case, check-fucking-mate States. You win.”
“Liam. . .” Audrey breathes out.
“Emerson knows it’s real. At least you are the first person to make it real to her. She might need more time,” Callum tries to tell me .
I roll my eyes and blow out a breath that feels more like a dragon blowing out steam.
“More time than three years?” I ask.
“It hasn’t even been a week since you told her how you felt. She hasn’t been processing it for years.”
“You don’t need to tell someone you are in love with them for them to know it. It’s in the small gestures, the silence, and the mundane moments that I wanted her to know she is loved. Play back the past three years. I did everything I could to show her. I wanted her to believe in love not because I said it but because she could feel it.” But I wanted—needed—her to love me back.
“But you never told her. She needed that. . . earlier,” Cal says.
Why does it sound as if he knows her like I do? No one knows her like I do. No one loves her like I do, nor will someone ever love her like I do.
The red increases a shade darker.
“What about me?”
“Liam,” George warns.
“She warned me. She told me she was fucked in the head, but I was blinded by her to see it. Didn’t want to believe it, but I should have. Instead, now I am, too.”
“Liam,” Beatrix says cautiously.
“Loving her. . . it’ll be the worst thing that ever happens to me. I wish I never met her.” I shake my head, the red now the darkest shade I’ve ever encountered. There isn’t a way for me to see past it. Or feel anything but it.
Across from me, Audrey’s eyes go wide first. Then Cal’s flare. It’s like they are a game of dominos. George follows suit. To his right, Beatrix gulps.
“And I wish I never met you too,” came a voice behind me.
That voice. Her voice.
Emerson.
She came .
Everyone is sitting there, staring at me and then staring at her. Cal’s covering his mouth with his hand. George releases a push of air and runs his hand over his head. Bea and Audrey lean in toward each other. No one is saying a word, no movement.
Why is she here?
How long has she been standing there?
They were trying to warn me and prevent me from pushing my foot farther into my mouth.
This can’t be happening.
Callum gives me a nod, a nudge to do something. I didn’t realize how frozen my entire body had gone.
“Emerson, I didn’t mean it that. . .”
I turn to look at her, but she’s already heading out of the entrance. In a rush, I push my chair back and chase after her. I was always the fastest out on the football pitch, and I know from running with her this week that she isn’t quick. I hope that I can catch her on the street before she’s gone forever.
If I don’t, that’s what she’ll be—gone forever.
Please, let me catch her.
“Emerson!”
The wind outside hits me, tussling my hair back. On the street, I swivel my head left and right to find her.
“Emerson!”
“Emerson!” I call out again.
To the right, I glimpse the top of her head. Even with the people on the street and the briefest snippet of her head, I know it’s her. I take off in her direction.
“Emerson, wait. Please!”
She’s moving quickly.
“Emerson!” My voice cracks.
She climbs into the backseat of a black car.
I know she can hear me. I’m close enough that there’s no way she isn’t hearing me call out her name repeatedly, begging her not to go .
Emerson doesn’t acknowledge me when she closes the door. The windows are tinted, and I can’t tell if she’s looking at me, but she probably is.
She’s probably glaring at me, on my knees and in tears like the idiot I am.
Emerson won’t shed any tears. Why should she? What I said was the nail in the coffin of our relationship and confirmed everything she feared.