Just because I’m not jealous doesn’t make it less embarrassing to attend a wedding as a guest when everyone thought I was going to be the bride.
I glance out the window, watching the city blur past. The streets are busy, cars honking, people moving in every direction. It’s strange, being here for the first time in almost a year. So much has changed, but it still feels… familiar.
A little too familiar.
I shift in my seat, pressing my lips together. Liam notices.
“Cold feet?” he asks, his voice light but I don’t miss the way his gaze sharpens.
I hesitate. “Not cold feet, exactly.”
Liam tilts his head, prompting me to continue. “Then what?”
I exhale, one of my hands clenched into a fist, with the other my fingers drum against my knee. “It’s just… weird, you know? Going back into his world. Seeing people who knew us as a couple.”
Liam hums, watching me for a moment. Then, to my surprise, he reaches over and lightly taps the back of my hand.
Just like he did at Mar and Elijah’s wedding. He taps it over and over until I unclench it and he slips his hand into
mine.
My breath hitches.
“Just remember,” he says, his voice softer now, “you’re not going back as his anything. You’re going as you. And if anyone gives you a hard time…” He smirks. “I’ll handle it.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Oh? And how do you plan to do that?”
Liam leans back, completely relaxed. “Dazzle them with my charm, obviously.”
I snort. “Right. Because that always works.”
He grins. “You’d be surprised.”
I roll my eyes but can’t help the small smile tugging at my lips.
Maybe this won’t be so bad.
Maybe.
I take my statement back.
I was wrong, completely uninformed, and way too confident in my ability to handle this.
I might not be desperate, to get Zane’s ring, but that doesn’t mean I’m not a mess right now.
1/3
Chapter 56
My nerves are so bad that we have to pull over once so I can throw up. Liam rubs slow circles on my back, harding me a bottle of water without a word. He doesn’t say anything snarky, doesn’t tease me, and somehow, that makes it worse.
By the time we finally make it to the port–much later than either of us expected–I half–hope the cruise ship has already left. That they got tired of waiting and decided to sail off without us.
No such luck.
The moment we find a place to park, the paparazzi swarm. Cameras flash in our faces before I even have a chance to
unbuckle my seatbelt.
Liam mutters a curse under his breath. “You good?*
I nod, even though I’m not.
His jaw tightens, but he doesn’t push. Instead, he grabs my hand and squeezes once before stepping out of the car. The second he does, the shouting begins.
‘Liam! Over here!”
“Emilia, how do you feel about seeing Zane again?‘
“Is it true you and Liam are engaged?”
Engaged? We’re not even dating!
*Liam! What do you think about your girlfriend’s thing for hockey players? Emilia, are you really a puck bunny?
The words hit like a slap. My stomach twists. I nearly trip, but Liam’s grip on me tightens, kind of like an anchor- steady and unshakable.
I glance up at him, and for a second, I see it—the anger, the frustration. The same pain that’s been clawing at me ever since those headlines started. NHL’s Favorite Puck Bunny. My face plastered everywhere, my name dragged through the
mud.
At first I thought he didn’t care. And maybe he doesn’t. Maybe it’s just the guilt of knowing how far he let this go gnawing at him.
Then I remember how bad those two weeks were. How terrified I was to even stare in the mirror, too busy comparing
who I was to what everyone thought.
How hard it was to breathe.
The crowd presses closer. Cameras flash. Microphones are shoved in our faces.
My heart starts to be faster, so much that it’s uncomfortable. My stomach turns and twists and I feel like I’m going to throw up again.
“If it gets too much, just squeeze my hand, and we’re out of here.*
Those were his words at Mar’s wedding. I wonder if they hold weight even now.
2/3
Chapter 56
I squeeze his hand in rhythm with my heartbeat. Trying not to think about my chest that’s desperate to cave in.
Liam stops.
Dead in his tracks, he turns, his jaw clenched, his expression ice–cold. His voice is sharp enough to cut through the
chaos.
“You don’t deserve to say her name.” His eyes lock onto the reporter. “Call her that again, and we’ll have a problem.”
Silence. Even the cameras stop clicking.
He doesn’t wait for a response. He simply pulls me forward, pushing through the crowd like they’re nothing. And for the first time in weeks, the noise doesn’t feel so loud.
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