Chapter 25
Liam
Ihad no idea what had gotten into me other than I hated seeing Emma like that. It wasn’t the makeup per se—she’d looked gorgeous. But, then again, she was always beautiful with or without it. No, it was the way her shoulders had scrunched up by her ears, the way she’d wrung her hands in front of her, turning her skin red. It was the fact that she had been very clearly uncomfortable, and it had that primal protectiveness rising in me.
It was more than just being protective of her as a friend. The very first day we met, when we were five years old, Emma had been swinging at the playground when a group of boys went over and started making fun of her for being so tall. Her long legs always gave her an advantage in the underdog competitions that happened at recess, and the boys hated it. As a result, she ended up getting picked on a lot. But that one particular day, I got so angry that I put myself between those boys and Emma, and when they wouldn’t shut up, I punched one of them in the face.
Even at such a young age, when I turned around to make sure she was okay, finding her swallowing back tears, I knew that we’d be friends forever. But even that protectiveness I had felt for her then held nothing to what raged in me in her dressing room. I wanted her to feel comfortable—safe. The very idea that Bridget—or anyone else—would think less of Emma because she didn’t fit a certain image was enough to make my blood boil.
Emma was enough. End of story.
I’d deal with the backlash of Bridget’s wrath. She’d give me an earful later, but honestly, what was the big deal? Emma was equally beautiful without the makeup. She didn’t need a skin-tight dress, even if the sight of her in it made my jaw drop. Emma was the type of person who, as long as she felt comfortable and safe, shined brighter than anyone in the room.
At least, that’s how I always saw her.
I forced my attention back to what I was doing. Namely, sitting on this small stage, strumming away at my guitar while a handful of excessively rich people looked on. Thankfully, I was so used to this that I could do it in my sleep, and my skill wasn’t hindered by the fact that my mind kept wandering to the hazel-eyed beauty sitting directly in front of me. I couldn’t take my eyes off her.
As I finger-picked my way through the chord progression of a song I’d played at least two hundred times in the past year, a feeling of rightness settled into me as I sang the lyrics.
I always thought love was something you earned
Bare your heart, give your all,
Just to get nothing in return
Then those hazel eyes came storming into my life
And now the darkest days are filled with light
There was a spotlight on me, setting most of the room in shadows, but Emma’s hazel eyes somehow pierced through the dark, and I could feel the force of her gaze like a brand. When I had written the song, I hadn’t been thinking about anyone in particular—or at least I thought I hadn’t. But now, looking at Emma, it was like I was singing it for the very first time, like I had subconsciously written these words for her.
I’ve walked through dark skies,
You’ve walked through pain
Yet you’ve never left my side,
Dancing through the rain
In this love chase, we’ll find our way
Through the storm, we’ll make it someday
As the final chorus rang out, and the room burst into enthusiastic applause, all I could see was Emma.
My heart gave an unfamiliar squeeze, and three dangerous words that I had never said to anyone before spiraled through my head on a loop.
I love her.
Where did that even come from? This was Emma. She was my best friend. I’d never had feelings like that for her in all our years of friendship. And yet ever since coming back to Meridel, I couldn’t stop thinking about her, couldn’t stop the strange feelings I kept having about her.
Our marriage was fake…but more and more as each day passed, I couldn’t help but think that maybe I didn’t want it to be.
I wanted it to be real.
What would she even think if she could hear these thoughts?
Our kiss in the dressing room made it seem like maybe, just maybe, she might be feeling the same things as me.
The thought both thrilled and terrified me.
I didn’t want to do anything to risk our friendship, but I couldn’t help but think…
What if we weren’t meant to be friends? What if we were always meant to be…more? Was I really so blind all these years not to see what was right in front of me? Or was I simply too scared to take a chance and chase after Emma for real?
The applause slowly faded, and I ducked out from under my guitar, setting it on the stand before hopping down off the stage. Bridget would have a field day about me not coming backstage—because who knew what kind of crazies were in the audience—but all I wanted in that moment was to wrap Emma up in my arms and kiss her senseless.
I didn’t care that we were surrounded by people. I didn’t care that there were photographers with cameras at the ready, and that they’d likely make up ridiculous stories in the tabloids, even if she was my wife.
No, none of that mattered to me as my feet hit the floor, and I took Emma’s hand and pulled her toward me, wrapping an arm around her waist. I didn’t hesitate for even a second as I cupped her cheek and pressed my lips to hers. I was vaguely aware of the click of cameras and the eyes of everyone riveted on us.
Brief microphone feedback squealed through the air a few seconds later, pulling us apart.
“Thank you everyone for coming tonight,” Bridget said with that fake smile that told me she was unhappy. “Please give it up one more time for Liam Walker…and his new wife, Emma Walker.” She gestured at us with her arms.
Reluctantly, I stepped away from Emma, taking hold of her hand and pulling her up on stage. The way her shoulders rose up to her ears told me she was uncomfortable being in the spotlight, but I put my arms around her waist, her back to my chest, and smiled for the cameras before pressing a kiss to her cheek.
“You’re beautiful, Em.” Her cheeks turned pink, but a more genuine smile worked its way across her face.
After another minute, I’d had enough of the cameras flashing and the clapping and led her backstage.
Bridget was instantly right there the minute the curtain closed behind us, muffling the noise.
“Well, if you wanted to make a statement, you certainly accomplished it.”
I gripped Emma’s hand tighter in mine, putting myself between them. I didn’t know what Bridget would say—what offensive things might come out of her mouth—and I didn’t want Emma to take the brunt of them.
“Tonight went well,” I replied. “I don’t know why you’re all bent out of shape.”
“As country music’s current biggest star, you have a reputation to uphold, Liam. You went from bad boy to married to the girl next door.” She flung a hand at Emma, and my shoulders tensed. I was sure she didn’t mean it as a derogatory term, but her tone made it sound like an insult. “That’s a little too much of a swing, even for me. People may question the legitimacy of your relationship.”
“Need I remind you this was all your idea,” I said between clenched teeth.
“No, my idea wasn’t to marry you off and have you throw everything we’ve worked for away. My idea was to have you get married to stop that ridiculous reputation you earned while also making you even more irresistible to fans because you’re no longer available. A lot of women tend to want what they can’t have. But it has to be believable, and at the moment, this”—she waved frantically at Emma behind me—“isn’t.”
How had I never noticed how devious my manager was? While her words might have been true, when she said them all like that and in that order, it felt dirty and deceptive and I suddenly wanted zero part in all of it.
Especially if it meant Emma was hanging precariously in the balance.
“Sorry, Bridget, but we’ve already asked Emma to sacrifice enough when she became my wife. I won’t ask her to pretend to be someone she’s not.” I squeezed her hand tighter. “She’s enough as she is.”
Bridget rolled her eyes, and Emma gave my hand a squeeze, likely sensing my rising anger. She had a way of offering silent support that made my tightly coiled insides relax.
“While I’m sure she appreciates the sentiment, Emma didn’t sign up to be enough. She signed up to be your wife—and everything that entails. She agreed to play a part—the part of Liam Walker’s wife. That means wear the right clothes, the right makeup, and hang on your arm like a love-crazed woman. Tonight, she was just the girl next door who got lucky enough to marry you. This isn’t what we wanted.”
I took a step toward Bridget, outrage making my body shake. “How dare you?”
“Be reasonable, Liam. This wasn’t the plan.” She waved a vague hand at Emma, wordlessly insulting her. It had me seeing red.
“Don’t forget you signed the contract too,” she reminded me.
I clenched my teeth so hard my jaw ached. Words fled my mind, and Bridget’s eyes shone.
She thinks she’s won.
“Good. We understand each other then.” Her voice was smug, and I hated it. How did I ever think she was a good manager? “This deviation from the right image won’t happen again.” Her gaze flicked between Emma and me. “Will it?”
Emma stayed quiet the entire time, but I could feel her fury rising, saw the way she bit the inside of her cheek to keep her words at bay. I hated that I’d dragged her into this. She deserved so much better.
What have I done?
Bridget patted my shoulder, taking my silence as confirmation. “Good. Head home and get some rest. You’ll need it for the next gig.”
She was halfway out the door when she turned and said, “And Liam? I don’t think you want to find out what happens if you breach your contract. Understood?”