Chapter 121
EMILIA
I
guess sometimes you have to be shivering, bone–deep cold before you can rethink your life choices.
I surface, coughing and laughing, water streaming down my face. Liam comes up right after me, spluttering.
“You pulled us over!”
“You leaned!”
“You panicked!”
“I laughed!”
He glares at me, soaking wet, hair stuck to his forehead. “You owe me dry clothes.”
“Says the one who was just boasting about his steering technique! Look, now my cardigan’s all wet.”
If possible, his glare intensifies. “It’s not even yours.”
Details, details.
We tread water for a moment, breathing hard, the air quiet around us except for our laughter and the gentle ripple of waves. Despite everything – despite the bickering and the shivering — I don’t want to be anywhere else.
–
Or maybe just in Tessa’s expensive apartment cuddled up in her throw blanket and drinking out of her expensive wine supply, while she burns down the kitchen.
At least the fire will provide some warmth.
Eventually, he paddles toward the dock, grabs the edge, and offers me his hand. I hesitate for a half–second, then take it. His grip is firm and warm, even with the water.
When I’m up, he doesn’t let go right away.
Neither do I.
We stand there for a beat too long, dripping onto the wood, hands still clasped like we’re
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not quite sure what to do now that we’re out of the water.
His thumb brushes the back of my hand–just barely–and I feel it everywhere.
He clears his throat, finally letting go. “You know, most fake couples don’t fall into lakes. It’s bad for the brand.”
I wrap my arms around myself, teeth chattering. “Well, I guess we’re trailblazers.”
Liam snorts under his breath and runs a hand through his soaked hair. It flops right back into his eyes. He looks like a kicked puppy and a shampoo commercial at the same time. Unfortunately for me, it’s kind of a devastating combo.
I glance down at my cardigan. “This is going to smell like lake forever.”
“Don’t worry,” he says, straightening up and rolling his shoulders like he’s trying to warm himself through sheer force of will. “I’ll invoice you for emotional damages.”
“I’ll invoice you for slander. I did not pull us in.”
“You laughed so hard you tipped the boat, Emilia.”
“I was laughing at you, not physics!”
He just shakes his head, the tiniest smile playing at the corner of his mouth. It’s not the
usual smirk, not the cocky thing he throws around like a weapon. It’s something quieter.
Gentler.
I pretend not to notice how nice it looks on him.
“Come on,” he says, brushing a wet leaf off my shoulder. “Let’s find somewhere to dry off before we both freeze and end up as a very dramatic cautionary tale.”
We start walking, shoes squelching with every step. There’s a moment where our shoulders bump, and neither of us moves away.
A group of tourists walks past, and a few people definitely recognize Liam. One even raises their phone for a photo.
“You think Becca’s crew caught that on camera?” I ask, glancing back toward the water.
“Personally, I think they’re more busy with filming the bride to be,” Liam says, with a sideways glance at me, “but since the groom’s a no–show, we’re the next best thing.”
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“Yes. And the most humble one too,” I joke, then frown at my wet shoes. They were one of my favourite pairs too. “I hope he gets better before the wedding.”
Liam lets out a snort as we find a staff member who offers us some clean towels. He passes one to me without a word, his fingers brushing mine, and it’s warm in a way that makes me feel it more than I probably should.
I wrap the towel around my shoulders, rubbing my arms beneath it, and sink onto one of the lounge chairs. Liam tosses me a second towel without a word, then flops down beside me
with a heavy sigh.
“I can’t feel my spine,” I mumble.
“Same,” he says, kicking his wet shoes off and setting them under the chair. “I think my ribs are actually shivering.”
We sit in silence for a moment, the warmth from the heaters gradually starting to seep into our soaked clothes. I sneak a glance at him.
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