Chapter 8 Emma
EMMA
Laddie practically bounces up each step, his backpack thumping against his little legs. I’m trying to keep up, clutching his overnight bag like it’s my emotional support.
“Mama,” he says, voice full of excitement, “Tristan’s mom got two kinds of cake for the party. Two! and ice cream! And we’re gonna have pizza, and watch movies, and sleep on sleeping bags on the floor!”
“Wow,” I say, smiling even though my stomach’s in knots. “That sounds like the best party ever. Just don’t give yourself a bellyache with all that food, okay?”
“I won’t,” he says confidently, then pauses. “Well… maybe a little one. But a fun bellyache.”
I laugh, smoothing down his hair. “Only you would think there’s such a thing.”
He grins up at me. “Mama, can you believe I’m big enough for a sleepover?”
I swallow hard, forcing a smile. “No, buddy. I really can’t.”
“Don’t worry,” he says, patting my arm like I’m the one who needs reassurance. “I’ll call you if I miss you.”
“You’d better,” I tease softly. “But you’re gonna have too much fun to miss me.”
He giggles. “Maybe just a little. But only at bedtime.”
“Deal.”
I knock on the apartment door, and Tristan’s mom, Lydia, opens it, giving Laddie a wide smile when she sees his whole face beam up.
“Are you excited?” she asks him.
He nods, making little hops.
She tells him to take his stuff in and put it by the kitchen island. He turns back to me, grinning ear to ear.
“Bye, Mama!” he says before stepping inside.
“They’re all so excited,” Lydia says.
“Oh, I know,” I say, forcing a laugh. “It’s just...”
“I know,” she says. “The first time is always hard. I’ll take good care of him.”
I meet her gaze and nod. “Of course you will. I’m not worried.”
“Moms are always worried.”
“Yeah,” I say with a sigh. “You’re brave. How many are you having?”
“Six,” she says, laughing. “But this isn’t my first rodeo. We’ve done this with the older two before.”
“And we pick him up around nine tomorrow?”
“Or ten,” she says with an easy shrug. “No rush.”
“Got it.” I thank her again, and when Laddie turns to wave with a big grin on his face, I manage a smile and wave back before forcing myself to walk away.
When I get home, I’m surprised to see Talia on the couch in sweats, scrolling through her phone.
It’s Friday—she never has Friday nights off.
“What are you doing at home?” I ask, dropping my keys in the bowl by the door.
She smirks. “I called off. Figured I’d talk you into going out tonight—keep you from pacing the floor and checking your phone every five minutes while Laddie’s living his best life at that sleepover.”
“Out?” I ask, narrowing my eyes. “Out where?”
“Out...dancing? Eating? Drinking? Getting dressed up in something other than scrubs and having men look at us?”
“Oh, I don’t know if—”
“Stop it. Don’t say whatever lame thing is about to come out of your mouth.”
“It’s just that—”
“Emma,” she says. “Stop. He’ll be fine. You’ll have your phone, and they’ll call if they need you. Let’s go get drunk and let hot guys feel us up. Wouldn’t that be exciting? A little tit-grope? A little tongue down your throat?”
I make a face. “Well, when you put it like that... Yikes.”
Talia laughs. “Come on, little sister. You and I both need to blow off some steam. We are kid-free tonight, let’s not waste it.”
“Okay,” I say, grinning. “Okay, fine. We’ll go out.”
“Whoop! Okay! So, there’s a bottle of white wine chilling in the fridge. Let’s get dressed, then we’ll pregame here, then we’ll Uber to a club one of my work friends told me about. You don’t know who’s following you home.”
I shake my head and go into my room, then turn back around to catch my sister before she heads to her own room to get ready.
“Tal,” I say. “It would be weird to bring someone back here.”
She pokes her head into the room I share with my five-year-old.
Not exactly a dream setup. Sure, I have the bigger bedroom, but there’s still a twin bed across from mine, decked out in dinosaur sheets and a one-eyed stuffed turtle slumped against the pillow.
It’s… less than ideal. And yeah, it’s starting to feel a little weird, but that’s a problem for future me.
The current problem is that I cannot bring a man home and expect anything remotely sexy to happen with a T. rex blanket staring him down. It would be a total mood-buster.
She pushes her lips to one side while she considers. “Well, you could ride him on the couch, then kick him out?”
I make a face. “Oh, great idea. And what about you? I’m just going to have sex on the couch, and you’ll wander out to grab a glass of water? No big deal?”
“We’ll figure it out if it gets that far; how about that?”
I nod and let out a long breath.
It’s true, I haven’t exactly been rolling in orgasms lately.
The spell has been pretty dry.
And yeah, part of me wants a distraction.
But the idea of hooking up with some random guy feels off.
Especially now that Liam is in the same city, just a few miles away.
We’re not together. I remind myself of that.
It doesn’t matter.
My body never got the memo.
Because ever since he reappeared… my nights have gotten dangerously vivid.
Memory turning into fantasy.
Fantasy turning into need.
The way he used to whisper my name.
And God help me… the way he used to wreck me in bed.
Yeah. I’ve been thinking about him a lot.
But fine. Whatever.
Maybe a distraction is exactly what I need.
Something to keep me from dialing his number at midnight like some lovesick idiot.
I pull on a barely-there black dress and knee-high boots, add a few gold necklaces, a touch of lipstick, and mascara. Nothing over the top, just enough to look like I made an effort.
When I step into the living room, Talia’s already in the kitchen, curls piled into a messy bun, showing her little lotus tattoo at the back of her neck.
She’s holding a bottle of wine, and when she turns around, I let out a whistle of approval at her shimmery and sexy purple dress against her freckled skin.
“Damn, Tal,” I say with a grin. “That dress is dangerous. You trying to cause trouble tonight?”
“I hope so,” she says. “I need a good, hard railing from someone with serious big dick energy.”
“Well, that was...graphic,” I say. “But you go, girl.”
“Let me see you,” Talia says, stepping out from behind the kitchen island. She gives me a once-over, then grins wildly. “Oh, hell yes. Spin around.”
I roll my eyes but do it anyway, and she lets out a low whistle. “Damn, Em. We clean up good!”
We high-five, laughing, and turn up the music.
Within minutes, we’re dancing around the apartment like two tipsy teenagers, finishing off the bottle of wine and pretending life isn’t complicated.
I only check my phone, like, every ten minutes, and I think I’m doing pretty good until Talia snatches it away and says, “Stop looking at your fucking phone. They will contact you if they need you.”
I give her a shaky smile and a rueful shrug. “Sorry.”
She shakes her head. “It’s whatever. Just don’t let it ruin your night.”
We grab an Uber to the club, and it’s packed.
The music thumping, lights flashing, so we each down a shot and then head out to the dance floor, where a couple of Talia’s work friends join us.
A little while later, I get a text with pictures of the boys, all grinning like maniacs before bed. Laddie’s smile is huge, his eyes bright and happy. Then another one with them in their sleeping bags, asleep.
They’re fine. He’s fine.
I heart the photos and put my phone away.
After that, I finally let myself loosen up.
I accept another drink from my sister, the fun enforcer, and then another. And then I’m lost in the music, eyes closed, swaying my body in a way I haven’t in a very, very long time.
When warm, solid hands settle lightly on my waist, I don’t pull away.
I don’t even open my eyes. Instead, I imagine it’s Liam.
The man is respectful. He doesn’t shove himself on me, doesn’t come too close. I’m grateful for that, because I realize I don’t want it to be anyone other than Liam Callaghan.
Wow. That’s depressing. And maybe a little pathetic.
I’m about to step away when curiosity gets the better of me. I open my eyes.
And the world slams to a halt.
I freeze.
“Holy shit,” I whisper.
Because it is Liam.
His hands are still resting on my waist. His eyes are locked on mine like he heard me thinking about him from across the damn city.
It feels unreal. Like I’d summoned him out of thin air.
He’s towering in front of me. I forgot how huge he is. Tall, like six-five. Broad shoulders, big hands. Muscles for days. That swoop of sandy hair falling in his eyes.
A dimple in one cheek as he almost grins at me. “Emma.”
His face is still healing; the bruising is lighter but still visible. The stitches on his brow have been removed, but a scar remains.
And just like that, the almost-smile fades. The slight tilt of his lips is replaced with his usual, brooding stare.
It’s intense.
Intense in a way that makes my stomach clench, my pussy aching and wet almost instantly.
“Liam,” I finally manage.
“Hope this is okay,” he says, leaning in to talk in my ear since the music is loud.
I nod, meeting his eyes. They’re dark in this light, but I know them. Green like sage, almost blue. Vivid against usually tan skin.
We start to move together as the next song kicks in, the bass thrumming through the floor and into my bones. I glance around, expecting to see Talia giving us the evil eye, but she’s busy, her arms looped around the neck of some guy nearly as big as Liam.
Maybe one of his teammates.
It’s too loud to try to talk, so we just dance. Closer. The air between us charged, every beat pulling me a little further under.
He doesn’t touch me the whole time, but I want him to.
Badly.
My nipples are hard against the fabric of my dress, and I’m certain I’ve soaked through my thong.
I have all kinds of thoughts about him fingering me right here on the dance floor, about him dropping to his knees and lapping up the wetness between my legs.
When I turn, pressing my back to his front, his breath catches. His hands slide lower until his palm is flat against my belly. The hard length of him presses against my back, and a shiver races down my spine.
For a long, breathless moment, the world shrinks to just us—the beat, his body, the pulse pounding in my throat.
Then, suddenly, Talia is there. She wedges herself between us, shoving at Liam’s chest. Her eyes have that wild, glassy look of a drunk person.
“Back off,” she snaps. “Get away from her.”
Liam lifts his hands, his tone calm. “Easy.”
I give her a look, embarrassed that people are looking at us. I turn and leave the dance floor, and both Liam and Talia follow me.
Once we’re in a quieter spot, Talia grabs Liam’s arm. “Whatever this is, it ended years ago,” she says. “Why are you even here?”
Liam looks at her, then at me. I think he wants me to step in, but I’m wondering the same thing.
“Just a coincidence,” he says, seemingly reading my thoughts. “I’m here with my teammates. We won tonight. Out celebrating.”
“Well, go celebrate somewhere else,” Talia says. “Shoo.”
He looks at me again, and I can see hurt there. I stare at him and realize this is so crazy.
Liam is my past.
I can’t reopen this Pandora’s Box.
“I need some air,” I say. “I’m going to step outside and sober up a little.”
“Do you want me to come with you?” Talia asks, still side-eyeing Liam.
“No,” I say. “No, I’m good.”
“Maybe we can go somewhere else?” Talia asks. “I can close the tab.”
“Yeah, okay.”
She nods and points an accusing finger at Liam, but walks away, off to the bar.
I turn and walk for the door, and I know he’ll follow.
I want him to.
The cool night air hits my skin like a shock when I step outside. I round the corner into the shadowed alley beside the club, and he’s right there.
He doesn’t say a word. Just looks at me with that raw, hungry expression that’s haunted me for years. And before I can think, he’s on me.
He pushes me against the wall.
His mouth crashes on mine.
The kiss is fierce and wild, and I can’t breathe.
His hands grip my thighs, lifting me until my legs lock around his waist. My dress rides up, his body pressing into mine, and the world disappears. There’s only his tongue sliding against mine, his teeth catching my bottom lip, the rough sound of his breathing against my neck.
It’s desperate. Starved.
Six years of wanting, breaking, missing, burning.
I tug at his hair; he groans and bites my jaw.
My head falls back against the brick, a moan slipping out before I can stop it.
Then the sound of footsteps, laughter from around the corner snap us back to reality.
We freeze.
Liam lowers me, shielding me with his body as I pull my dress down, making myself look presentable again.
He leans in, and he puts his forehead against mine. “I want to see you again.” He murmurs.
“I...I want that too,” I admit.
“Good.”
He pulls out his phone, opens his contacts, and I recite my number, my pulse racing like I’m doing something forbidden.
“I’ll text you,” he says.
Then he’s gone, and I’m alone and horny and drunk.
I text Talia that I’m heading home, that I’m tired. She sends back a string of flirty emojis and says she’s staying out.
I tell her to be careful, then slip into the night, still tasting Liam Callaghan on my lips.
The apartment is dark when I step inside, and I know Talia probably isn’t coming home tonight, so I lie naked on the couch. The room is lit only by the city lights outside.
I take a long time exploring myself, as if his hands were still on me.
I close my eyes and breathe in the memory of his mouth, his voice in my ear, the weight of him pressing me to the wall.
It’s maddening, how easily he gets under my skin again, how one kiss can unravel six years of distance.
Without thinking, I grab my phone and type I’ve missed you.
Then I hit send before I can change my mind.