Chapter 24
Emma
Saturday came way too quickly. I didn’t know if it was the three days I spent driving all over Iowa and Missouri chasing storms, or if it was not seeing Liam except for my brief morning coffee, but the time passed too fast, and now I was in LA for his gig, sitting in a dressing room with my name on the door—what the heck—trying not to wring the skin from my hands as Bridget’s makeup artist dolled me up as she called it.
Like I had expected, Bridget had stuffed me into a dress I never would have chosen in a million years. Sure, it was my color with the hunter green satin, but with the way the dress hugged my body, the slight cowl neck dipping down a little too low for my comfort, it was a wonder the wee little straps could hold the dress up at all. It was stunning, but it wasn’t for me. I would’ve chosen a simple sheath dress with a cute pattern, or better yet—jeans.
Give me pants and I would’ve rocked them in a pair of heels. Put me in a satin clingy dress? Watch me crash and burn. I dreaded to think what Liam would say when he saw me. Outside of our wedding day, I couldn’t recall a time he’d ever seen me wear a fancy dress. I’d only ever worn the occasional sundress. It wasn’t that I disliked them; they just weren’t practical when I was sitting in a truck chasing after tornadoes.
I mean, could you imagine me getting out of the car in the middle of a thunderstorm to take pictures? The wind would send a dress right over my head. I snorted and rolled my eyes at the thought, and the makeup artist paused, giving me a look.
I gave her a sheepish smile even as a trickle of sweat slid down my back.
Stop sweating, Emma! It’ll ruin this monstrosity of a dress!
I thought my wedding dress had been a monstrosity, but it had nothing on this one.
She went back to work slathering a mysterious substance onto my face. When she finally finished, I literally felt like I was wearing some sort of mask—as if she had erased everything that made me me.
With only a satisfied grunt, the makeup artist packed up her stuff and left the room, leaving me alone with only the sound of my heart pulsing in my ears. I couldn’t bring myself to look in the mirror. I didn’t want to see this version of Emma that Bridget had forced me to become. I understood that Liam had an image to uphold, and I needed to fit the part, but…it was harder than I expected.
Why wasn’t Meridel Emma enough? Why did I have to become this Emma?
A knock on the door sounded, cutting my pathetic thoughts short.
“Come in,” I called, turning so that my face was hidden. Why was I so embarrassed to be seen like this?
“Hey,” Liam said as he opened the door and stepped inside.
“Hey,” I replied, keeping my back to him. I was still sitting down, my hair covering my shoulders. My heart raced at the thought of turning around and seeing the look on Liam’s face when he saw me. It wasn’t that I was afraid that he wouldn’t like it—I was afraid that he would and that made me feel like normal Emma wasn’t enough for him.
If he was suddenly attracted to me when I was dolled up but never had been in our two decades of friendship with me in my natural state…I hated how icky that would make me feel.
“Why are you facing the wall?” he asked, and I felt him standing behind my chair. There was a trace of humor in his voice.
“Oh, you know, just seeing if I can disappear into it.”
Warm hands slid over my shoulders, and a flood of Liam’s cologne enveloped me.
“Come on, it won’t be that bad.” He chuckled. “Tonight will be over before you know it.”
With a sigh, I pressed my trembling hands into my sides, stood, and turned to face him.
For a moment, Liam froze, his eyes wide as he took in first the dress, then the makeup. I couldn’t tell what he was thinking, and it was driving me crazy, sending my insecurity through the roof. Then he stooped a little to look me directly in the eye.
“What’s on your face?” Liam asked me, and heat flooded my cheeks.
I ducked my head, avoiding his gaze. “What are you talking about?”
He put a finger under my chin so he could look at me. “The makeup.” There was a slight growl to his voice, and if it weren’t for my embarrassment, I might have thought it was sexy.
“Oh, um. You don’t like it?” Crap, why did I ask that? Needing to do something with my hands, I grabbed the ends of my hair and fiddled with it. “Bridget thought it was a good idea. Her makeup artist spent an hour on it. Something about needing contouring to fix my slim face—”
“Take it off.”
I froze, our gazes locking. “What?”
Liam just blinked at me for a moment before his hands bunched into fists and he shook his head. “Take it off.”
I gaped at him, utterly at a loss for words.
He went over to the vanity, searching for something before he returned with a wet wipe. “Take the makeup off,” he repeated.
This reaction was not at all what I’d expected. “Why?”
He was seething, his chest rising and falling in angry pants, his fists clenching and unclenching. I’d never seen him angry like this.
“Liam, what’s wrong with my makeup?”
Sucking down a calming breath, I turned to face the mirror to see if the makeup artist had secretly made me look like a clown, which of course she hadn’t. She had perfectly highlighted and contoured my face—those were the terms, right?—making my hazel eyes pop with a little bit of bronze eye shadow. My lips were bright red, which, combined with the hunter green dress, made me feel both elegant and like I was going to a Christmas party.
Though I didn’t really look like myself, and I definitely wasn’t comfortable, I didn’t think I looked that bad. Not bad enough to warrant this kind of reaction from him.
After another tense moment, he let out a long breath. “It’s not you,” he finally whispered.
I wasn’t exactly sure what he meant, so I waited, hoping he’d explain what he meant.
“You don’t look like you,” he said, meeting my gaze. “You don’t need…” He waved at my face. “All this.”
Before I could respond, someone knocked on the door and Bridget came hustling into the dressing room. “Are we ready?” She clapped her hands.
Liam spun on his heel, that anger flooding to the surface again.
Oh boy.
“She’s not going out there like this.”
Bridget cocked her head as she looked at me. “Like what? She looks great.”
“She looks like all the other girls,” Liam spat. I wasn’t sure whether to be offended by that comment or not.
“Yes. She fits in with you now,” Bridget calmly reassured.
Liam’s mouth opened and closed as if he couldn’t believe her audacity.
I wasn’t sure I could believe it. If I wasn’t offended before, I was now.
I didn’t want to be or need to be like those girls that had flung themselves all over Liam. I was Emma Beck—err, Walker—and that’s all I wanted to be.
“She doesn’t need the makeup,” Liam barked.
“Of course she doesn’t need it. But it looks better if she matches your image—”
“That’s my wife,” Liam spat between clenched teeth. “She’s perfect the way she is and doesn’t need to change to fit any image.”
That’s my wife. The words repeated over and over in my head. It was one thing to marry Liam for convenience. It was completely another to hear him call me his wife and be so protective of me.
I’d never seen him lose it with Bridget quite like this either.
Liam…didn’t think I needed the makeup? He didn’t want me to look like all the other girls? My heart swelled so big in my chest that it squeezed the breath from my lungs.
“Liam, come on,” Bridget chided. “Be reasonable. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with how she looks now.”
“There’s nothing right either. If I’m going to introduce her to the world as my wife, I want her to look like Emma Walker, not every other girl trying to be her.” His chest was heaving. “Emma is enough just as she is. That’s final.”
He turned to me, his eyes softening. “Take the makeup off and put on whatever you wore here.” The small smile he gave me was enough to spur me into action.
“Liam—” Bridget started, but he held up a hand.
“I don’t want to hear it. I may have agreed to this marriage, but I will not present a fake version of Emma to the public.”
Bridget was silent for a moment, her head cocked like a predator sizing up its prey. “You might be legally married, Liam, but remember this was all fake to begin with. Or have you forgotten?”
“It’s real enough,” he bit back.
The world swayed around me, and my knees threatened to buckle. It’s real enough.
What the heck did that mean?
Did Liam have feelings for me? Or was I reading too much into it? Was he just protecting me?
Finally, Bridget scoffed and crossed her arms. “I hope you understand what you’re doing.”
He mimicked her posture. “I know exactly what I’m doing. Now if you’ll excuse us, Emma needs to change.”
I tried not to laugh as he shooed Bridget from the room, closing the door with a loud click before leaning against it and taking a big breath.
When Liam met my gaze, I felt the heat in it all the way down to my toes.
“Liam—”
“I’m sorry, Em. I never wanted you dragged into this life. I didn’t want you to feel like you needed to change to be with me. I didn’t want them to change you.”
His words took the breath straight out of my lungs, and he stalked across the room, closing the distance between us.
“You’re perfect the way you are. I wouldn’t change a thing. I don’t want to.” He took my hand and kissed the back of it. “If I’m going to introduce you to the world as my wife, I want you to feel comfortable—like you.”
All the words dried up on my tongue and even if I could’ve spoken, I had no idea what I would’ve said. In fact, all thoughts escaped entirely and before I even knew what I was doing, I was leaning onto my toes and pressing my lips to Liam’s.
There were a lot of reasons why I felt the need to kiss him—and even more reasons why I shouldn’t. But instead of breaking away, Liam’s hands went to my low back and pressed me into him. He was…kissing me back.
The next thing I knew, my back was against the wall, Liam’s body pressing into mine.
I had been kissed before—a couple times in high school—but none of them were ever like this. None of them had held me with reverent hands or kissed me with such heat, and it was a good thing the wall was supporting me, or my legs might have given out. I had only ever dreamed of this—forbidden fantasies of Liam and I ending up together even though I’d always known it was foolish to hope.
This didn’t feel foolish.
This felt right.
Breathless, Liam finally broke the kiss, resting his forehead against mine. His lips were curled in a smile.
“I don’t know how I ever lasted twenty years without kissing you,” he murmured. “I don’t know how I left you for two years.” Liam sighed, his hands tightening on my back.
That sure sounds like he’s caught feelings.
“I’m sorry, Emma. I’m sorry if I hurt you. That I left.” His words were whisper-soft, so quiet that I wondered for a moment if I had imagined them in the first place. Liam pressed another slow kiss to my lips before reluctantly letting me go.
“I should let you change.” His smile was the first real one I had seen on his face in days—weeks. “I’ll be right outside.”
Then he was gone, and I was tingling from head to toe.
What just happened?
I never expected an apology like that from him. Heck, I never expected him to say anything like that.
Does this mean he feels the same as me? Or is he just getting caught up in these moments?
With shaking hands and trembling legs, I went over to the chair where my wide-leg jeans and rust-red babydoll tank top were folded and hastily changed out of the dress. It took a couple minutes to undo the damage the makeup artist had done to my face, and in the end, I settled for a little bit of mascara and some lip gloss.
I stared at my reflection. There, that’s better.
Feeling more like myself—not to mention more confident—I slipped back into my black heels and went to the door.
Liam turned, something flaring in his eyes as he looked at me.
He grabbed my hand and guided me toward him, pressing a kiss to my cheek. “Beautiful, Emma.”
All I could do was smile at him. How many times had I wished to hear those words on his lips?
I was vaguely aware of Bridget scowling over in the corner, but she was lost in the background as Liam laced our fingers together, led me out from behind the stage, and seated me at the table right up front in the middle where I’d have a direct sightline to my husband. At some point tonight, he’d introduce me as his wife to a room full of rich, famous people.
Gulp.
But somehow, even in a room full of strangers who would likely look down on me for being me, I didn’t care. Not with Liam looking at me like that. Not with the memory of his lips on mine playing through my head.
The rest of the evening might be painful, but with him by my side, I felt like I could face anything.