Page 84 of Burned By the Broken Doctor

Damon studies me, his smile fading. “You’ve changed, Liam. Emma’s good for you.”

I grumble, taking another sip of my drink. “Everyone seems to want to tell me that these days.”

He chuckles. “Well, maybe we should stop bothering you about it.” He claps me on the back. “It’s clear that you both love each other, and that, along with the truth, is enough to figure out all of the rest.”

“You think so?”

Damon grins. “I know so. Come on, let’s get another round.”

I nod, but as I nurse my drink, I realize I don’t even feel the urge to flirt with other women. Before, I would have had my eyes out for the most beautiful lady in the room, but now, every woman I see is somehow compared to Emma and falls short. She’s captured my body and heart, and I’m powerless against it.

“Ready to drink to your fill tonight?” I say to Damon, raising my glass.

“To my last night of single life,” he cheers, clinking his glass against mine. But I’m not celebrating. I’m drinking to forget. I down the shot, feeling the burn as it slides down my throat. The alcohol dulls the edges of my thoughts, but it can’t erase them entirely.

The night goes on, a blur of laughter and music. I keep up the facade, playing the part of the best man, but inside I’m a wreck. I can’t stop thinking about Emma, how her face lit up when she smiled, and how her eyes filled with tears when I pushed her away. I want to make it right, but I don’t know how.

The party starts to break up around eleven, and we say our goodbyes. I step outside, the cool night air hitting my face. I take a deep breath, trying to clear my head. The stars are bright, the sky clear. It’s a beautiful night, but all I can think about is Emma.

I pull out my phone, my fingers hovering over her number. I want to call her, to hear her voice, but I don’t know what to say. I owe her the truth at least, but it doesn’t sound right to tell her on the phone, on the eve of her brother and best friend’s wedding. I shouldn’t allow my mess to smear Damon and June’s wedding. Besides, I need to see her in person, explain my actions and apologize properly while I can see the look on her face. I pocket the phone and start walking, my mind a whirlwind of emotions.

I’ll figure this out and find a way to make things right with her. But for now, all I can do is keep moving forward, one step at a time.

28

EMMA

The morning of June and Damon’s wedding dawns brightly.

The sunlight streams through the balloons and draperies, casting an ethereal glow on the room overflowing with wedding finery I’ve ensured is set to be perfect. I’m standing in a corner of the venue, watching the guests arrive, taking a final stock to ensure everything is in place.

A frantic clicking of heels by my side shatters the serenity of the corner I’m standing in. I turn around to see Sarah, one of the bridesmaids, her face flushed and eyes wide. “Emma,” she pants, “June's asking for you. She's… Well, she's freaking out a little.”

I drop the bridal magazine I’m clutching in my hand, and my smile falters for a moment before I plaster it back on. Of course, June would be jittery. It's her wedding day.

“Thanks, Sarah,” I say, pushing myself off the corner. “I'll be right there.”

June has been the epitome of calmness throughout the entire wedding preparation. It’s a bit odd that she’s now on the verge of a breakdown. The thought sends a jolt of nervous energy through me. Taking a deep breath, I smooth out my bridesmaid's dress—a vibrant emerald-green that matches my eyes and fiery red hair—and make my way toward the room reserved specifically for the bride.

I push open the door, and a wave of nervous energy washes over me. June sits slumped in front of the vanity mirror, a crumpled tissue clutched in one hand and a notepad in the other. Her usually radiant face is pale, her eyes red-rimmed and glistening with looming tears. Her wedding dress, a masterpiece of intricate ivory lace, hangs limply over a chair in a corner.

Seeing her like this feels like a punch to the gut. I rush toward her. “June?” I call out softly, my voice laced with concern.

She looks up, startled, a flicker of despair flashing in her eyes before a watery smile replaces it. “Emma,” she croaks, her voice thick with emotion. “I can’t remember my vows. I don't know what to do.”

Rushing to her side, I envelop her in a tight hug, the smell of lavender and chamomile from her calming bath oil filling my senses. “Hey, shhh,” I murmur, rocking her gently back and forth. “It's okay to feel nervous, June. This is a big day.”

She pulls away, wiping her nose with the crumpled tissue. “It's not just nerves,” she confesses, her voice barely a whisper. “What if I mess up? What if I say the wrong thing at the altar? What if?—“

“Hey,” I interrupt, cupping her face in my hands, forcing her to meet my gaze. “Look at me. You are strong, June. You are kind, you are beautiful, and you are more than capable of getting through this. Remember all the talks we had about this day? About how it's not about perfection, it's about love and commitment?”

A flicker of her old spark returns to her eyes. “Yeah,” she admits, a shaky smile gracing her lips. “But still…”

“No buts,” I declare firmly. “You've come this far, June. You've planned every detail, overcome every hurdle. And let me tell you, you looked like an absolute warrior the last month.”

A small laugh escapes her lips, the sound like tinkling bells. “Oh God, don't remind me. There are times I wanted to break down, I just didn’t.”

“Exactly,” I say, squeezing her hand. “You are a warrior, June. And you'll conquer this, too. Just speak from your heart even if you don’t remember. Damon would be so mesmerized by you, he won’t even remember what you’re saying anyway.”

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