Chapter 13 Emma
EMMA
Liam Callaghan has never been the emotional type.
He doesn’t rush into things, doesn’t react just because he feels something. He’s always been quiet and steady. The kind of man who locks his feelings down behind a wall no one gets through unless he lets them.
I used to pride myself on knowing how to read him anyway, catching the smallest tells when something was simmering under the surface.
But he never wore his heart on his sleeve. That poker face could win medals. Broody as hell, impossible to read. Half the time, I didn’t know if I was interpreting him right at all.
And now?
I’ve just dropped a bomb.
I have a kid.
And true to form, Liam gives nothing away.
No shock.
No judgment.
Not even curiosity.
He just looks thoughtful, kind, and beautiful, the way I have always remembered him.
I don’t know what I expect him to say, but his voice is soft when he finally does.
“I always thought you’d be a good mom.”
My answer just comes out of my mouth without forethought. “Well,” I say, trying for casual and failing. “He’s a good kid. He deserves a good mom.” I shrug, looking down into my coffee. “I try my best. Some days I do better than others.”
Liam leans back, studying me like he’s seeing all the years he missed. “I’ll bet you’re ninety-ten,” he says. “It’s a win. I know what the opposite looks like.”
My heart twists for the boy he used to be, always showing up to school with fresh bruises and new excuses. It’s a miracle he turned out as steady as he did, all things considered.
I must be wearing my thoughts on my face, because he rubs his own face and shakes his head. “Don’t look at me like that, Em. That was a long time ago.”
“Yeah,” I say softly. “Doesn’t feel like it, though.”
He shrugs, eyes dropping to his coffee. “I survived. That’s what matters.”
I tilt my head. “Surviving isn’t the same as being okay.”
He huffs out a quiet laugh without much humor. “You sound like one of those therapists they make us see after a bad game.”
He doesn’t ask more about Laddie, and I’m grateful. I don’t think I’m ready to tell him more, not just yet. There are too many things that would raise his suspicion.
Laddie’s age. His name.
He’s no idiot.
It’s too much right now, when we’re still figuring out how to navigate this reunion.
When Liam blurts out, “I’m sorry I kissed you,” it’s the second time he catches me off guard.
“I...uh...what?” I fumble.
“The other night. I didn’t even think to look for a ring or ask if you were seeing someone. I shouldn’t have—
My brain makes the connection. I have a kid. He didn’t ask if I was seeing anyone.
“Oh,” I say, letting out an amused noise.
“I just wouldn’t want to disrespect that, if you have someone. I should have asked you first.”
“Liam,” I say. “It’s fine. It’s sweet of you to say, but I’m not seeing anyone. I hardly ever go out, like, at all. With anyone.”
There’s a moment of quiet between us. I almost reach out and put my hand over his on the table, but I stop myself.
After enough heartbeats to make it a little awkward, he finally speaks again. “I liked it. Kissing you. Dancing with you.”
I feel my cheeks flush, and I stare down at my coffee, at the table, anywhere but those sage-green eyes. It doesn’t last long. Eventually, my gaze finds its way back to his, and before I can talk myself out of it, the words slip free.
“I liked it too.”
He exhales, and then he does what I’ve been imagining since the second I sat down.
He reaches across the table and takes my hand. Just that simple touch sends a current through me, like every nerve in my body suddenly remembers him.
“Emma,” he says quietly, his thumb brushing over my knuckles, “I can’t believe you were on shift when I came into the hospital. I can’t believe we both ended up in the same bar the other night. I just – it’s been a long time, and it feels like...”
He trails off, but I know exactly what he means.
“Yeah,” I whisper. “It feels like it was meant to be. Like we were supposed to find each other again.”
His fingers tighten around mine. “It’s just been…”
“Six years,” I finish for him. The words hang heavy between us. Six years of silence. Six years of wondering. Six years of everything I never told him.
And I know, he deserves to know the truth.
I open my mouth, but the words stick.
Because how do you drop that bomb between two coffee mugs?
How do you look into those green eyes and say Surprise, you’re a father?
So instead, I squeeze his hand and give him a small, fragile smile.
He studies me, thumb tracing lazy circles against my skin. “You look good, Em.”
“Thanks,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper. “You too.”
“Yeah?” His mouth tips into that half-grin that used to wreck me. “Even with the busted nose and bruises?”
“Especially with those,” I tease, trying to lighten the air. “Adds character.”
He laughs softly. For a moment, everything feels as easy as if no time has passed at all. And like we’re sitting in his truck again, trading jokes and stolen glances, not two adults trying to piece together a past we both broke.
But reality creeps back in. We have changed. Life happened.
“We’re different people than we were back then,” I say quietly. “Our lives are different, and maybe you won’t like the person I am today.”
He huffs. “I doubt that very much.”
There’s a long pause before he adds, “Look, I’m not asking you to marry me or anything. I’m just feeling like we’ve been given a chance, here, and we should take advantage of it. Maybe we just go on a date or something? Perhaps we could get to know each other again? See what happens?”
His sentences start getting shorter, like he’s losing his courage. It’s pretty cute.
It’s actually a pretty significant speech, for Liam anyway. It’s endearing in a way it shouldn’t be, because this is already really messy. But here I am, nodding and smiling like a total idiot.
“Okay,” I hear myself say. “A date.”
He smiles, too, and it’s so brilliant and perfect, I’m nearly dazed for a second before I shake my head and blush some more.
“I should run,” I say. And I should. I’m supposed to be at the grocery store. “Text me some possibilities for this date you’ve proposed?”
He gives a quick nod. “I’ll look at the team schedule and send you some options.”
“Good.”
I stand, take my cup to the bin, and head toward the door, the late morning sun spilling through the café windows—Liam’s right behind me.
When we step outside, I turn to say goodbye, and for some absurd reason, I hold out my hand like this is a business meeting instead of a reunion that’s turned my whole body inside out.
He gives me a lopsided grin that makes my heart race, then he takes my hand. There is so much happening inside of me that takes away my defense.
And then he leans in.
There’s no hesitation; he kisses me as he means it. It’s not the wild, horny, drunk-kissing from outside the club. This is a long, deep, lingering kiss and has me on my tiptoes, sighing, and ready to weep for how good it is.
When he pulls away, someone whistles at us, and I can’t possibly blush any deeper than I already have. He bites his lip mischievously.
“See you soon, Emma.”
He turns and walks away, and I say, out loud to nobody, “Oh shit. This is gonna be trouble.”