21. Liam
21
LIAM
I glance around the fashion boutique, feeling slightly out of my element among the rows of neatly hung suits.
Fluorescent lights buzz overhead, casting a sterile glare on the rows of clothes hanging in the boutique. The air is thick with the scent of freshly pressed fabric and something vaguely chemical.
Damon is rifling through the racks with a determined look, and I follow suit, pulling out a sleek navy jacket to examine. The air is filled with the soft rustle of fabric and the low hum of the store’s music.
“Dude, how about this one?” Damon holds up a dark grey suit, grinning at me.
“Try it out.” I nod. We both head into the changing room as he slips out of his jacket and puts on the suit.
“Alright, Dr. Miller,” Damon booms, his voice echo in the cramped changing room, “what do you think?”
I watch him take a quick spin. The suit was sharp, that much is undeniable, but it feels…distant. “Not sure,” I admit, catching his frustrated reflection in the mirror. “Little stiff, don't you think?”
Damon glanced at me. “God, man, what do you mean ‘stiff’?”
“Makes you look like a CEO or something.”
He stares for a while. “Yeah, maybe a little too CEO.” Already halfway through stripping out of the suit, he groans. “June will kill me if I don’t find the perfect suit for this wedding today.”
“You will, alright,” I said. “Just calm down.”
He chuckles. “No groom is ever calm, man. I hate suits.”
I grin as I hand him another one. He takes the jacket from me, slipping it on over his shoulders. “Please, just tell me this one works?” he asks, turning to the mirror and adjusting the lapels.
I step back, tilting my head to one side. “Not bad. But try this one.” I hand him a deep burgundy suit, and he stares at me with a question in his eyes. “Might as well stand out, right?” I shrug.
He laughs, shaking his head. “You really want me to make a statement at this wedding, huh?”
As he changes into the burgundy suit, I lean against the fitting room door.
Damon emerges a few minutes later, sporting the burgundy suit that clings to his athletic build in all the right places. He strikes a pose, a playful smile on his face. “How's this for dapper?”
“Alright, alright,” I admit, forcing a smile. “I think this works. You clean up well, groom.”
“Thank God,” he groans. “Now it’s your turn.”
We continue the charade for the next hour, flipping through suits, exchanging opinions, and cracking jokes. Every time I slip on a new outfit, Damon teases me about how it seems like the perfect suit for my own wedding.
“Dude, how about this one?” Damon holds up a dark grey suit, grinning at me.
I take the jacket from him, slipping it on over my shoulders. “You think it works?”
Damon steps back, tilting his head to one side as he hands me a deep burgundy suit, a playful glint in his eye. “I think this is better. It will be a perfect suit for your own wedding someday.”
I pause, catching his reflection in the mirror. “Honestly, the closer your wedding gets, the more of a sappy romantic you’re becoming.”
Damon chuckles, crossing his arms. “You think I’m a huge romantic because I’m getting married?”
“Well, you getting married has a part to play in this new you, so yes.”
He nods, a thoughtful look crossing his face. “June makes me that way. You know, I thought I’d never love again after Ethan’s mom left. I swore off serious relationships. Then June came along and changed everything.”
I finish buttoning the suit jacket, turning to face him fully. “How did you know she was the one?”
Damon's smile is soft, almost wistful. “It wasn’t one thing, Liam. It was everything. The way she laughs, how she cares for Ethan, the way she sees the world. The right woman makes a righteous man out of a dude. That’s just how it works.”
I mumble a noncommittal, “We’ll see,” feeling a pang of guilt. This whole charade with Emma is becoming more complicated.
The truth is, being around Emma is messing with me. It started subtly—stolen glances, the quiet comfort of her presence. Now, it's a gnawing feeling in my gut, a growing sense of connection that goes way beyond the physical attraction that sparked this whole charade.
Yesterday, after my shift ended, I called her. We spent hours in the park, me watching her sketch and paint with her vibrant crayons, a contentment settling over me that has nothing to do with desire. It scares the living daylights out of me.
I keep telling myself it's just the sexual chemistry, that the closeness, the shared laughter, it's all an illusion. But the illusion feels too real, too damn comfortable.
Damon’s hand clamps down on my shoulder, jolting me back to the present. “You alright, man? Something on your mind?”
I shake my head, but the words spill out before I can stop them. “How did you know you loved June enough to marry her?”
Damon’s expression softens, and he takes a seat, motioning for me to do the same. “You know, it wasn’t like a lightbulb moment. It was gradual. Every day, I started to notice the littlest, weirdest things—how she thins her lips when she’s mad. The way her laughter sounds like tinkling bells, the sounds her feet makes when she walks. It’s in the little things. I started to look forward to those things, to miss them when they’re not there, and then finally, I realized everything about her gives me joy.”
I swallow hard, Damon’s words hitting close to home. “But weren’t you scared? Of getting hurt again?”
He nods. “Terrified. But being with her… It’s worth the risk. I realized that living without her scared me more than any potential heartbreak.”
His words echo in my mind, worryingly similar to how I feel about Emma. Am I really falling for her? I try to push the thought away, but it lingers, gnawing at the edges of my consciousness.
We finish up in the boutique, Damon finally deciding on a classic black suit. As we step outside, a woman approaches Damon, her face lighting up with recognition. I immediately recognize her as one of the women who harassed Emma in the store, leading to that fateful kiss.
“Damon! How’s the wedding prep going?” she asks, her tone overly friendly.
Damon gives a polite but distant smile. “Going well, thanks.”
She glances at me, then back at Damon. “Is your sister going to finally show up at the get-together party now that she’s in town?”
Damon’s smile tightens. “I don’t know. I guess we’ll see.”
As we drive back into town, I can’t shake the interaction from my mind. “What was that about?” I ask Damon.
He sighs, keeping his eyes on the road. “Emma’s high school class from Harmony Creek High is having a get-together. She’s always been reluctant to go because those girls love to get at her for not having a partner.”
A blinding anger surges through me at the thought of Emma being subjected to that. “They give her a hard time because she’s single?”
Damon nods. “Yeah, they’ve always been like that. Emma just tries to avoid the drama.”
I grit my teeth, a fierce protective instinct rising within me. “Maybe she shouldn’t avoid it this time. She doesn’t have to go alone.”
Damon glances at me, a knowing smile playing on his lips. “You thinking what I’m thinking?”
I nod, determination settling in my gut. “Yeah. Get me the details of the party. I’m taking her.”
As we drive on, my mind races. This isn’t just about protecting Emma from a few mean girls. It’s about showing her that she doesn’t have to hide herself away from this people. She’s a beautiful, successful woman, and these days, I find myself wanting her to know just how amazing she is. I want to crush her enemies, and if that is a room full of judgmental former classmates, so be it. Emma deserves to be treated with respect and love, and I’m determined to show her just that.
I sit on the edge of my bed, phone in hand, staring at Emma's number. My thumb hovers over the call button for a moment before I finally press it. The phone rings twice before she picks up, her voice bright and cheerful.
“Hey, Liam!”
“Hey, Emma. How's it going?”
“Pretty good. How about you? How did the suit shopping with Damon go?”
I chuckle, recalling the afternoon. “It was…interesting. Damon has some interesting taste. But we found something good.”
“That's great to hear. I can only imagine the two of you in a fashion boutique,” she teases, and I can hear the smile in her voice.
I take a deep breath, trying to steady my nerves. “Listen, I was wondering if you’d like to go to a party with me tonight.”
“A party?” she asks, curiosity evident in her tone. “What kind of party?”
“Think of it as a date,” I reply, keeping my tone light. “And a chance to show the townsfolk that we're a couple.”
There's a brief pause before she responds, excitement lacing her words. “Okay, that sounds fun. I'm looking forward to it.”
“Great. I’ll pick you up at seven?”
“Seven it is,” she agrees. We exchange a few more pleasantries before hanging up, and I feel a sense of anticipation building inside me.
Later that evening, I’m in front of the mirror adjusting my tie for the umpteenth time. I’ve chosen a classic black suit, hoping it strikes the right balance between formal and casual. As I head toward the door, my dad intercepts me, a teasing grin on his face.
“Big night, huh?” he asks, leaning against the doorframe.
“Something like that,” I mutter, trying to hide my nerves.
He smirks. “Should I be preparing breakfast for three tomorrow morning?”
I roll my eyes. “I regret ever letting you meet Emma,” I joke back, and we both laugh.
My dad’s expression softens. “Where are you taking her tonight?”
“It’s a high school reunion,” I explain. “Apparently, Emma’s been hesitant to go because some of her old classmates like to give her a hard time about not having a man.”
My dad nods approvingly. “You’re doing a good deed, son.”
I nod back, feeling a mix of determination and anxiety. As I walk out to the car, my mind races. Am I really falling for Emma? Is this a good thing or a bad thing? For now, I decide to push those thoughts aside and focus on the evening ahead.
The drive to the Cole house feels both too fast and too slow. My heart pounds as I walk up to the door and knock. It swings open to reveal Emma, and I’m momentarily speechless. She’s dressed in a stunning emerald-green dress that hugs her figure perfectly, her hair cascading in soft waves around her shoulders.
“Wow,” I manage to say, my eyes wide. “You look amazing.”
She blushes, a pleased smile spreading across her face. “Thanks, Liam. You clean up pretty well yourself.”
I offer her my arm, and we head to the car. As we drive, she turns to me with a curious look. “So, what’s this party about again?”
I smile, glancing over at her. “It’s your high school reunion. I heard you’ve been too shy to go because some of your former classmates tease you.”
Emma gasps, her eyes lighting up with happiness. “Really? You’re taking me to that?”
I wink at her. “I’ve got your back.”
The rest of the drive is filled with comfortable silence, both of us lost in our thoughts. When we arrive at the venue, a quaint country club on the outskirts of town, I park the car and walk around to open Emma’s door.
She steps out gracefully, looking around with a mix of excitement and nerves.