Page 50 of The Love Chase

My tone must’ve shut her up because she didn’t say anything else. I didn’t want to talk about the sleeping arrangements. I didn’t want to make her feel bad that my neck was already killing me from the lumpy sofa bed, and I hadn’t even fallen asleep for the night yet.

A minute later and the hot chocolate was warm. I added a dash of vanilla extract before carefully pouring it into two mugs—one that said “Mr.” and the other “Mrs.”—before sliding hers across the island. Another touch from Bridget, I assumed.

“Thanks,” she said with a small smile as she wrapped her hands around the mug.

Unsure what to do, or whether she wanted company after the chaos of the day, I sat two barstools away from her, taking a sip of my drink. It really was unreasonably sweet—I preferred black coffee after all—but Emma liked it that way.

“Why are you sitting down there?” she asked, eyeing the large gap between us.

My tongue stalled in my mouth, and I was unable to speak for the thousandth time. Good grief, I needed to get a grip. This was Emma, not some stranger off the street.

I shrugged and she frowned. “It’s just us, Liam. We can live together and be civil without making it awkward.” The slight tremble in her voice made it sound like she was desperately trying to convince herself of that.

“Come on, let’s watch something,” she offered, getting up and taking her drink over to the couch.

The sheets were rumpled from all my tossing and turning, and she took a second to straighten everything before crawling on top and leaning against the back cushions. I smiled in spite of myself. She patted the spot next to her.

Reluctantly, I sat on the sofa bed and scooted back, leaving a good foot between us.

Though we were used to being affectionate in our friendship, we were married now, and I didn’t want her to think I was taking advantage of the situation. Better to keep things clear and not cross any lines.

I saw her studying me out of the corner of my eye as I grabbed the remote and flipped through channels.

“White Collar?” I asked, and I sensed more than saw her smile. It was her favorite TV show. I didn’t even wait for her response before clicking play on episode one.

“You remembered,” she commented quietly.

“Of course, I did. I know you, Em.”

The space was melting between us as I met her gaze, those hazel eyes doing unfamiliar things to my insides. Why was she questioning whether I remembered? I’d been gone for a while, but we spent nearly every day with each other for years—decades. Emma was not easily forgotten, even if I made her believe the contrary with my silence and distance.

Matt Bomer walked across the screen, stealing her attention away. Time passed as episode after episode played on the TV. At one point during the show, she leaned over to rest her head on my shoulder, which in and of itself wasn’t unusual, but right now, after everything that had happened today, it felt like it meant more.

But that was crazy. I was crazy. Right?

It didn’t take long for her to fall asleep, and I took a moment to look at her in the glow from the TV. She really was beautiful. How had I never thought so before? Her hand rested between us, mere centimeters from mine, and for a moment, I bravely touched my pinky to hers, fervently trying to ignore the zap that zinged up my arm. She shifted slightly as though the feeling had woken her up, then she sniffled and scooted even closer. Her head landed on my chest, hand resting on my stomach.

I didn’t know what to do with my arms. Did I wrap them around her? Did I keep them up on the back of the couch?

Why was I overthinking this so much? It wasn’t like I was a stranger to cuddling with women. As much as I hated to think about it, I’d had plenty of practice in California.

But Emma and I had never been close like this. This felt like…something else.

Impossibly, she squirmed even closer, and my arms naturally fell around her. She murmured something against my shirt, but I couldn’t make out what it was.

What did I do? Did I try to escape and let her have the uncomfortable sofa bed? Did I carry her upstairs and put her in her own bed?

I ran a hand through my hair, looking down at her. She looked so peaceful. Part of me didn’t want to move her. Part of me…liked this.

In the end, I decided not to do anything and distracted myself with White Collar. Maybe after another episode, I’d have a solution, but for now I was just going to stay here and enjoy having Emma in my arms—even though that was a dangerous thing to do.

Emma

Sunshine crept through the curtains, dragging me from the depths of sleep. I was vaguely aware of an ache in my ear, a calm beating sound, and being very, very warm. That’s when it hit me.

I was sleeping on Liam’s chest.

I went stiff as a block of ice, fighting the urge to flip myself out of the bed. I didn’t want to wake him up—or at least that was the reason I kept telling myself. Me not moving definitely didn’t have anything to do with enjoying this—not in the slightest.

---