Chapter 201
EMILIA
For a second, I’m sure I’ve misheard him. Then the warmth in his gaze lands square in my chest, and every thought in my head dissolves into glitter.
“You’re serious?” My voice is barely there.
“Dead serious,” he murmurs, kissing the corner of my mouth like it’s a promise. “I want to wake up to you every morning, fall asleep to you every night, and have you here in between to tell me off when I leave my skates in the hallway.”
There’s a lump in my throat the size of a hockey puck, but I manage a smile. “That’s a lot of commitment… are you sure you’re ready for my thirty–seven bottles of hair products in your shower?”
His answering laugh is low and so warm it makes my toes curl. “Baby, I’ll build you a whole new shelf.”
My lips part, but whatever I was about to say gets lost in the traffic jam of my brain cells. He must notice the way I’m seconds away from glitching in his lap, because he shakes his head, fighting a grin. “It’s not like I’m asking you to marry me yet. You don’t have to look this distressed.”
“I’m not distressed,” I mumble, though my pulse begs to differ. Is there even a difference? Marriage. Moving in. Either way, it’s permanent,
and it’s him.
And God help me, I think I want it.
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His lips brush the side of my neck, slow and unhurried. “I’m not forcing you into anything, Em. Stop overthinking.” Then he pulls back, grinning. “We need to get ready.”
I frown. “The barbeque isn’t till tonight.”
“Who said we were going to the barbeque?”
Suspicion curls low in my stomach. “Then… where are we going?”
His smile goes wicked. “You’ll see. Put on shoes you can walk in.”
I’ve learned not to ask too many questions when Liam gets that look. It‘ s like talking to a locked vault with a smirk.
So I just watch the scenery change until we pull into a place that rings a faint bell. My suspicion sharpens. “What are we doing here?”
He gives me a look that says you’re going to regret asking, and I instantly do. I mutter under my breath while wrestling with my seatbelt, but before I can win, he’s already out of the car. A moment later my door opens, and he’s there – casually freeing me from the buckle, steadying me with one hand like it’s nothing.
“What?” he hums, voice annoyingly light. “You don’t like it?”
“I’ve never been to a place like this, so I wouldn’t know.”
His brows shoot up so high I almost laugh. “You’ve never been to a farmer’s market?”
“Never,” I admit, almost sheepish.
For a second, I brace myself for judgment, maybe a teasing comment
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about me being a spoiled city girl. But instead of the lecture I’m half expecting. Liam grins like I’ve just handed him a gift. “So I’m your first, then.”
I blink at him. “How does that even-”
“Doesn’t matter.” He doesn’t give me time to overthink it. His hand slides into mine, warm and unhurried, and before I know it he’s tugging me toward the entrance.
I sigh, already silently thanking myself for wearing comfortable shoes. “Are we getting stuff for the barbeque?”
“If you want us to.”
He’s still guiding me like he knows exactly where he’s going, and I can’t decide if it’s charming or obnoxious. Probably both. All I can do is glare at the line of his stupidly broad shoulders, flexing like they’ve never heard of subtlety. “If that’s not why we’re here, then why are we?”
Finally, I stride up to his side, no longer letting him drag me along like a puppy. Good thing, too, because that’s when he tugs me against him, lips brushing the corner of my mouth in the laziest, most casual kiss like it’s a reflex.
My heart does something inconvenient.
“No reason,” he says.
I stop walking. “No reason?”
“Yup. Just because.”
He looks entirely too smug about it, like “just because” is a perfectly
acceptable answer.
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I groan, frustrated already and we haven’t even bought anything. “Liam
“Isn’t the fresh air good for a change?” he says, like he hasn’t just hijacked my afternoon plans of lazing around. His voice is easy, low, like this whole thing is obvious. “You looked like you needed it.”
Mrs. Beckett’s voice flickers in my mind and I tense before I can stop myself, but Liam doesn’t flinch. He just squeezes my hand like he felt it, like he always does.
“It’s only a bonus,” he continues, “that I get to see that look in your eyes when you like something.”
My lower lip gets a workout as I bite down on it, torn between wanting to melt and wanting to hit him. “So you thought I was sad and decided the solution was… a farmer’s market?”
“Yup. And to remind you I love you. Stuff like that.”
“Lia—”
But I don’t get to finish, because suddenly the crowd swallows us whole. One minute it’s just us on the sidewalk, the next it’s stalls and voices and color everywhere. The air is thick with the smell of kettle corn and warm bread, and every other vendor is shouting about honey, cheese, peaches, tomatoes – words tumbling over each other like they‘ re racing for our attention.
–
The noise, the colours, the rush of people – it should be
overwhelming. But his hand is still locked around mine, warm and steady, grounding me like he knows I’d float clean away without him. And his grin his ridiculous, self–satisfied grin – makes it feel like maybe this really is about nothing more complicated than “just because.”
–
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“There are way too many people here,” I mutter, tilting my head up at him. “What if I faint? And look at all those stalls, how are we meant to find anything to buy?”
Liam snorts, but his thumb is moving slow circles across my knuckles, absent–minded, like he can’t help touching me. “Relax, rookie. I’m right here.”
“You’re always so mean to me,” I shoot back, because he is.
“You’re right, love,” he says easily. “I’ll make it up to you later.”
Before I can roll my eyes, he’s steering me into a stall overflowing with strawberries, plucking one straight from the little sample basket. He holds it up to my lips like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
“Go on,” he says.
I hesitate, but the look in his eyes is steady, almost daring. So I lean in and bite. Sweetness explodes on my tongue, juice running dangerously close to my chin. I let out a soft sound before I can stop myself. “Oh my god. This tastes nothing like the ones from the store.”
But Liam isn’t looking at the fruit. He’s looking at me. And the way his eyes darken, the way his chest rises just a little too fast, makes my breath catch.
“That good?” His voice is rough, almost teasing, but there’s a hunger underneath it.
“Yeah,” I say, softer now, smiling at him even though my pulse is racing. “Can we get some?”
He doesn’t answer right away. His gaze drops, sharp and fixed. Before I can wipe at my chin, his thumb is already there, brushing slow and careful over the trail of juice. The air shifts; everything else — the
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shouting vendors, the bustling crowd, the cold November air disappears.
–
Then, still watching me, he brings his thumb to his mouth and licks it clean.
My breath catches.
And then he’s leaning down, catching my mouth in a kiss that’s soft but far too certain, like he knows exactly what he’s doing to me. The taste of strawberry lingers between us, warm and dizzying.
When he finally pulls back, his lips curve into that infuriating grin.
“You’re right,” he murmurs, almost smug. “It is good.“.
And then, without missing a beat, he turns to the vendor and starts haggling for three baskets like some lunatic.
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