Chapter 10
Emma
“What?” Liam shouted at the same time as I spat a mouthful of grilled cheese across the table, narrowly missing his manager’s pristine pink blazer.
My face burst into flames, and I muttered an apology as I wiped my lips with a napkin. Bridget’s face twisted into a pinched expression that told me she wanted to scold me but was reining herself in—likely for Liam’s sake and this scheme she’d concocted.
What the heck did she mean by “who else would he marry?”
“Excuse me?” he asked, barely holding back the anger that had his hands clenched into fists beneath the table. He started picking at the threads of his shorts, and a muscle jumped in his jaw as he clenched his teeth so hard I was sure he’d have a headache later. Most people wouldn’t notice those small things, but I knew Liam too well to miss them.
“That’s how you fix your bad boy, womanizer reputation, Liam. Get married.”
This had to be a joke. There was no way she was serious about this. Why on earth would Liam and I getting married be a good thing for his career? Wouldn’t that make people not interested in him since he would no longer be single?
The idea of being Liam’s wife had my body simultaneously flaring hot as the sun and my stomach smashing into the earth. Through our teen years and into my early twenties, there was no doubt in my mind that I had felt something for Liam—something more than friendship.
But I tried to never allow myself to entertain the idea of marrying my best friend. He had always made it clear that I was just a friend to him, and he didn’t, nor would he ever, think of me as more than such.
“Seeing as you two seem to be…close,”—Bridget gestured between Liam and me—“it’s the perfect solution. Saves me the trouble of trying to find a random woman to go along with such a sham.”
Sham is right. There’s no way Liam would ever marry me. This is a ridiculous plan.
Bridget turned her cold eyes on me. “I will, of course, make it worth your while, Emma. I don’t expect you to sacrifice a year of your life for nothing. A sum of money will be written into the marriage contract, and I’ll make sure it’s enough to set you up once the marriage is over.”
Wait, when it’s over?
I opened my mouth to ask what the heck she meant, but Liam held up both hands to stop her.
“Wait. Wait. Wait. Hold on. What do you mean money and when the marriage is over?”
Bridget gave him a patient smile, like one would give a child, before folding her hands on the table again.
“I would never expect Emma to radically change her life in such a way without proper compensation.” She glanced at me, giving me a once-over. “A pretty young thing like her would probably be grateful for the money.”
I did not like that insinuation. Not at all.
“And,” she continued, “the marriage would only last for a year at most and then you two can split ways. The contract would give enough time for the world to hear of your happily ever after, your reputation would be scrubbed clean, and then things between you can end and your popularity will soar again. Every woman on earth will want to comfort the freshly divorced country singer, Liam Walker.”
A smug look crossed Bridget’s face, like she was immensely proud of coming up with such a plan.
I didn’t know if I wanted to throw up or punch her.
Liam’s face was bright red. “You are out of your mind, Bridget. This will never work, and I’d never ask such a thing of Emma.”
He didn’t look at me, didn’t even bother to ask me, and for some reason that had me seeing red.
I loved Liam, but he had a habit of being too protective of me, thinking he knew what was best for me all the time. I appreciated his desire to look out for me, especially when we were younger. But I was a grown woman now. I could decide things for myself—like who I married and the circumstances behind it. If I wanted to agree to this, that was my decision to make, not his.
Because the truth was, even if the thought of being his wife made my head spin, I could really use that money. Now that I didn’t have a job and had that mighty big loan for the equipment currently sitting in Jameson’s garage, I needed some sort of income. I had planned to get another job, but the pickings were slim in Meridel. Who knew how long it would be before I was able to find something that paid the bills and allowed me the freedom to do what I loved—chasing storms.
But this…being Liam’s wife—err, fake wife—might just fit the bill. I could make those loan payments and still have the freedom to chase whenever I pleased.
The question now was: Would it be enough money? And was it enough to risk ruining our friendship by getting married?
I leaned my elbows on the table, interrupting their bickering. “How much money are we talking?”
Liam froze, his shoulders up to his ears, before he turned to me with questioning eyes. I almost thought I saw a hint of betrayal shining in them, but I was probably just imagining things. Why would he be upset if I agreed? Bridget said this would fix his problem. He should be happy I was willing to help.
Bridget smiled smugly, sitting back and crossing her arms. “Whatever gets you to agree.”
I barely kept my mouth from flopping open. Whatever I want?
I knew Liam was successful, but I didn’t think it fell into the category of name your price.
Liam put his hand on top of mine, causing my heart to skip a beat, and I internally scolded myself.
“Emma, this is ridiculous. You don’t have to do this. Don’t think—”
I ignored him, pulling my hand away, and wrote a number down on a napkin—a rough one that I figured would allow me to make loan payments and have a little extra to live on—and slapped it down on the table, cutting off Liam’s words.
It was too much. I couldn’t even fathom having that much money. I was certain she’d laugh at me and say forget it. I wasn’t worth that much.
Bridget didn’t even blink at the amount. “Done.”
I choked on my spit. What?
“What?” Liam said, echoing my inner thoughts. He tried to look at the napkin, but Bridget snatched it and folded it before putting it in her purse.
“What?” I stupidly echoed.
She simply blinked at both of us as if it were already a done deal and she expected to be applauded for this ridiculous scheme. Bridget looked at me expectantly, a victorious gleam in her eyes.
“I, uh, I’ll think about it,” I managed to say.
“Excellent. That’s settled then,” Bridget replied as if I had said an emphatic yes instead of a maybe. She gathered her bag and slung it over her shoulder. “Congratulations, you two.”
Why was she acting like I had already agreed? Saying I’d think about it was not the same as agreeing. My heart started racing in my chest.
Bridget’s smile transformed into something devious. “I’ll take care of all the planning, don’t you worry. By next week, a grand wedding for Liam Walker and his beautiful bride will take place, and you two will be happily married with bright futures ahead of you.”
“Next week?” Liam’s voice went comically high, that deep country voice that all the girls loved transforming into a pubescent boy’s croak.
“The sooner the better,” she replied, standing from her chair. “I’ll send you the contract soon, Emma. I’ll be in touch.”
And then Bridget disappeared from Dina’s in a wave of perfume with a scent that could only be described as the color pink.
For a long moment after she was gone, all I could hear was a roaring in my ears.
Was my skin on fire or was that just the fierce blush erupting on my face?
Next week. I’d be married to my best friend by next week.
Liam sighed, running a hand through his carefully styled hair before putting his face in his hands.
After another moment he looked up and said, “You don’t have to do this, Em. I’ll talk to her and find another way. I don’t want you involved in this mess.”
I shook my head. “It sounds like it’s a done deal to me. She acted as if I already agreed.”
He sighed again. “Nothing has been signed. You can still back out.”
“Maybe I don’t want to back out,” I retorted, and he blinked at me several times.
“Trust me, Em. You don’t want fame and flashing cameras and—”
“You have no idea what I want, Liam. None.” The words were quiet, but I might as well have yelled them with how they sliced through the room.
Liam’s chest heaved once, his lips pressing together as the beat of silence between us expanded. Though there weren’t many people in the restaurant, it felt like everyone was holding their breath, waiting to see how this unfolded.
“And whose fault is that?” he finally snapped. It was the first time I ever remembered Liam raising his voice or being visibly angry with me. It only stoked my own anger more.
“Yours,” I bit out, and he froze, eyes going wide like he hadn’t expected me to stand up for myself. The old Emma had a hard time speaking her mind, but I wasn’t the same girl I used to be. A lot had changed in two years.
“It’s your fault, Liam. You left. You stopped communicating with me. You.” My heart was pounding, and I was vaguely aware of a few people staring at us. We weren’t exactly trying to keep our voices down.
I never imagined that I’d be yelling at Liam Walker when I finally saw him again. But this whole thing had reminded me of how hurt I was when he chose to leave me behind to chase his dreams, and how much I had missed him.
He couldn’t just come back and pretend like everything was the same as it used to be. No. He had changed, and I certainly had changed.
I wasn’t the same Emma Beck anymore, and he wasn’t the same Liam Walker.
He was a stranger to me now.
I hated it.
I missed my best friend.
The backs of my eyes burned, and I bit the inside of my cheek to keep the tears away. I could cry later. I didn’t want this version of Liam—this so-called womanizer—to see me crack. That would open a can of worms that I would never be ready to open with him.
Liam stared at me, the muscle in his jaw working again, but he remained quiet. He couldn’t argue with what I said. He knew I was right.
We didn’t know each other anymore—not really.
I slurped up the last of Liam’s Cherry Coke, not even realizing how familiar that gesture was until I was finished. I couldn’t bring myself to meet his eyes.
I shoved my purse over my head and stood. What did I even say to him? See you later, fiancé? Meet me at the altar?
Ick. No.
Instead of embarrassing myself with whatever was sitting on my tongue ready to be spewed, I gave an awkward wave instead, muttering, “Bye, Liam.”
As I stalked out of Dina’s, part of me expected Liam to chase after me like he used to. That’s what he always did when he sensed I was upset, and had never shied away, like most guys, from feelings talk. He’d always let me get things off my chest. The old Liam would’ve come after me, gently pulling me into his arms until I cracked and spilled my heart out.
But as I stepped out into the sunshine, no one was behind me.
Liam let me go, and I had a horrible sinking sensation in my stomach that I truly didn’t know this Liam at all.