Chapter 23
Emma
Liam stayed out of the garage for a few days after our chasing adventure, well away from my gear, as if just by him being in its proximity he would end up back in the truck next to a tornado again. I couldn’t help but laugh at the memory.
I shouldn’t have laughed, but it was honestly refreshing to see him show something. Before he left for California, he had worn his heart on his sleeve. It had always been easy to tell how he was feeling, or maybe it was simply because I knew him so well. But this new version of Liam…he was so good at hiding how he felt, especially about our fake marriage and living together, and all the variables surrounding the situation, that I was starting to wonder if he felt anything at all.
The tornado chase showed me that, yes, Liam felt deeply.
We were best friends, and yet, I had been struggling to read him lately and know what was going on in his mind. Was it cruel of me to be thankful for him being scared in that storm just for the fact that it gave me a glimpse into his emotions for once?
Despite Liam’s obvious avoidance of the garage, the last few days had passed quicker—and easier—than I expected. Liam and I fell into a smooth rhythm, which wasn’t all that surprising. Things had always been easy between us. I tried to spend the last few evenings with Maya or Elsie and Jameson, desperately needing some space from Liam so that my feelings stopped growing so much, but I couldn’t entirely avoid him.
Even with me trying to keep my distance to protect my heart, there was still plenty of time that we spent together, grabbing takeout from Dina’s and then settling in for a movie and popcorn on the couch, or rearranging the entire living room late one night when neither of us could sleep.
Simple moments with Liam shouldn’t have made my feelings swell, but of course, there was no reasoning with my heart at this point.
Liam slept on the couch every night without complaint, though I frequently saw him rubbing at his neck or popping an ibuprofen after he woke up. I felt bad—but not quite bad enough to offer to share the bed.
I could not be responsible for my actions if we slept in the same bed.
Though it was dangerous, I grew to love the morning routine we had fallen into. Every day he made me an iced coffee with the fancy machine I still struggled to use, and I made some sort of breakfast. We sat side-by-side at the island and ate in silence, but it was never uncomfortable.
Liam and I had always been able to just hang out without worrying about talking or filling space. Our relationship had always been as easy as breathing, and I was immensely thankful that our little “convenient” marriage hadn’t seemed to change that. It was almost like the past two years had never happened, and we had picked right back up where our friendship had left off.
I could’ve easily held onto my anger over him leaving two years ago, but it was much more enjoyable to just pretend it never happened—to go back to how things used to be.
After breakfast, I’d head out to the garage and fiddle with my instruments as Liam called it, but really, I was working on recording episodes for my YouTube channel. Since I no longer had my internship, I threw everything I had into creating content to educate people about severe weather. It wasn’t my favorite thing, talking to a camera and recording myself, but the more I did it, the more natural it became and the more excited I got over people learning about weather.
My channel only had ten subscribers at the moment, but even ten was better than none. Instead of feeling like I was floundering, trying to figure out what the heck I was doing with my life, I finally felt like I’d found a purpose, a worthy cause to dedicate my time to.
In between recording, I often took off for hours at a time to chase storms, Liam barely suppressing a shiver every time I jokingly invited him. Sometimes I could hear him strumming his guitar from out in the garage, but I never went inside to listen. He was expected to work on his music while he was here in Meridel, and I didn’t want to distract him—or fall for him harder because his music was nothing short of magical.
After the announcement went public about our marriage, I expected Bridget to constantly be forcing us to go to events and outings, so we would be seen together as much as possible. But, aside from Liam’s music conversations with her, she’d been fairly quiet in the days that had passed since the wedding. We’d gotten a few tabloids in the mail, but all traces of Liam Walker—country music’s bad boy—had seemingly disappeared. Did that mean our little scheme was working?
Somehow, throughout the last few days, we had managed to avoid any awkward encounters, like walking in on each other in the bathroom, or Liam seeing me in various stages of undress. I thought for sure there would be weird moments between us, but…nothing. If I didn’t know any better, I would think Liam was being extra careful not to have those kinds of moments.
Much of the time, it felt like we were platonic roommates.
I hated it. I knew the marriage was fake, but I couldn’t help that little sliver of hope that maybe this would turn into a real one.
I sighed, turning off the computer and camera and heading back inside to get a drink.
The sound of voices met my ears when I entered the house, and I expected to find Liam on the couch with his guitar, playing his latest song for Bridget over video chat. That’s what he spent most of his time on lately, always playing his guitar and scribbling in a little notebook he kept on the end table. I tried my best not to eavesdrop since I’d always had a weakness for his music, and I needed to keep all my wits about me.
But this time, there was no music. When I walked into the living room, it wasn’t to find Liam playing guitar but instead to see him pacing back and forth on the phone, messing with his backward baseball cap.
Quick! Avert thine eyes, Emma! Don’t fall prey to the backward baseball cap!
If it weren’t for the fact that Liam’s face was red and his entire body was tense, I would’ve succumbed to admiring him—just for a moment—while he wasn’t aware I was there. Bridget’s cold voice quickly snapped me out of it.
“I’ve given you enough time to settle in and get used to being married,” she snapped, her voice loud despite the fact that she wasn’t on speaker.
A few days was enough time? Really?
“It’s time to start getting in the public eye and using this to fix your reputation. Just because your face isn’t front and center on the tabloids anymore, doesn’t mean the problem is gone.”
Liam ran a hand over that darn hat with a sigh, his black band tee flexing with the movement. I tried not to stare at the tanned skin it revealed, or the tattoo creeping up his arm beneath his sleeve. He startled, flinching back when he turned to find me listening before straightening his shirt.
“I expect you both to be there on Saturday,” Bridget’s voice barked, cutting through the silence.
Liam’s jaw clenched so hard I expected to hear his teeth crack. “Fine,” he finally answered before ending the call. He tossed his phone onto the couch, not seeming to care when it bounced onto the floor with a clatter. Collapsing into the armchair with a groan, he took off his hat and shoved his face into it as if he could disappear inside it.
“Everything okay?” I asked, still awkwardly standing there, hands at my sides. My mouth felt like I’d swallowed cotton, and I remembered that I had come inside to get water in the first place. Giving Liam a second to put his thoughts together, I grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge.
I was in the middle of gulping it down when Liam said, “There’s a…show this weekend. In LA. Bridget booked me to play an acoustic set for a bunch of hoity-toity people and then have dinner with them afterward.” He paused, looking at me with apologetic eyes. “She wants you to come with me.”
At those last words, I barely refrained from spitting my water across the room. Instead, like the graceful human being that I was, I inhaled the water, somehow managing to swallow it before launching into a coughing fit. My eyes blurred, my lungs squeezed, and I couldn’t breathe.
A warm hand landed on my back, rubbing soothing circles. When I finally got my breathing back under control, I straightened, my throat hoarse from coughing, to find Liam right there. His chest was touching my shoulder, and I looked up at him through watery eyes. His brows were lowered in concern, but there was that look again…that look he’d been giving me lately. I didn’t know what it meant or why he was suddenly looking at me all the time like…that.
“Eggs benedict?” he asked softly. I could only nod. “Next time I’ll wait until you’re not chugging water before I invite you to an event.” He smirked.
Rolling my eyes, I playfully shoved at his chest, but instead of him stumbling back, he was as immovable as a rock, and the force sent me backward. At least until his large hands grabbed my hips, pulling me into him. I told myself it was just an automatic reaction that my fingers twisted into his shirt.
He was just keeping you from falling, that’s all, I reasoned to myself.
More like making you fall for him.
“I would never make you come to one of these things,” Liam said after a moment, his face so close his minty breath caressed my lips. “The people tend to be stuck up and rude and I hate the thought of subjecting you to that.” He sighed again, and I wished I could wipe the sad look off his face. “But Bridget is insisting that you come—that it’ll be good for my image to have my wife there.”
I fervently tried to ignore the flutter that went through me at him calling me his wife.
As much as I’d rather stay home and stuff my face with takeout from Dina’s, I had to be at Liam’s events whether I liked it or not. It was in the contract that Bridget had me sign—to go to public appearances. Liam and I both knew there was no choice here. Besides, even if the thought of being around people that made me feel small and like I was from some hillbilly hick town made my stomach fill with stabbing needles, I wanted to support Liam.
That was what being a wife was anyway, right?
He was still holding onto my hips, and it was only natural for me to lift my hand to his cheek. “I’m happy to go with you, Liam. Don’t worry about me. I can handle it.”
This touch was well outside the friendly zone we’d been adhering to, and I half-expected him to pull away, to put us back in the purely platonic zone. To my surprise, he leaned his head into my hand and closed his eyes before he pulled me into him and wrapped me in a hug.
I didn’t know what was happening, but I was so here for it.
My thoughts had just started drifting into dangerous territory—what would happen if I lifted onto my toes to kiss him?—when he pulled away from me. I had to bite my lip to keep from asking him to come back.
Liam cleared his throat, his cheeks slightly pink again. “So, Bridget said she has a dress and everything for you, and you can get changed at the venue on Saturday.”
I couldn’t suppress the full-body cringe at the thought of his manager choosing an outfit for me. I had no doubt it would be something flashy or revealing—something I wouldn’t be comfortable in.
“I know it’s not your scene, but—”
I put a finger to his lips to silence him. “I said don’t worry about me.” I pasted on my best attempt at a smile, though my legs were feeling wobbly. “It’ll be great.”
Liam let out a breath, visibly relieved, but as I watched him head back over to the couch and pick up his guitar once more, I couldn’t help but think: Famous last words.