Page 62 of The Way to a Cowboy's Heart

“Got it. But, hey, Liam. Are you… is everything okay?”

He didn’t answer. Because he honestly didn’t know.

*

Emily had thrownher clothes haphazardly into her suitcase, but she couldn’t really see straight from the tears streaming down her face. In the bathroom, she shoved her cosmetics into a small traveling bag, then caught sight of herself in the bathroom mirror.

She looked a mess. But worse than that, she felt like the ground underneath her had slipped away. She felt gutted. All of it. From her brother’s awful words to the look on Liam’s face when he heard Malcolm’s accusation that she had somehow plotted, manipulated…wormedher way into Liam’s life for a… a green card and a marriage of convenience?

Good God, she would never—

Hisproposalwas simply a knee-jerk reaction to her brother’s words. He was just doing what he had done since the moment he met her—protecting her. And God knew, she was grateful for that. Glad she’d slapped those words right out of Malcolm’s hateful mouth. But an arrangement like Liam was proposing would never be the right thing. Not for her or for him. Because she loved him.

Shelovedhim. She knew that now. She had accidentally lowered those walls that had kept her from looking too hard at her life—a life filled with little besides work and survival—and she’d let him in. And now, her heart felt like it was breaking.

What had she done?

But now that vicious little seed had been planted. Now, he would always wonder. Did she come to blag her way into his life? Could it be true? Was she that devious? She’d seen in his expression that he doubted her.

So, there was only one thing to do now.Go. She couldn’t stay another minute. She would not go with her father. No, she would go back to New York, close out her apartment, and relocate herself to London. But nowhere near her family. And that job would also not be hers. She would find some other way, because being beholden to her father in any way now was impossible. She would never forgive him for coming here today. Or Malcolm. Especially Malcolm.

When had he come to hate her so to do what he’d done just now? When had their father’s approval overridden any brotherly feelings he’d once had for her? He’d become small and petty, jealous and possessive of their father. Well, he could have him. She was done.

A knock on the door of the cabin froze her in her thoughts. She had nothing to say to her father or Malcolm.

“Go away!” she shouted at the closed door.

“Em, it’s me. Let me in.”

Her heart dropped. It was Liam. Emily scrubbed at her cheeks with the backs of her sleeves. At least she owed him a goodbye. None of this was his fault.

Slowly, she unlocked the door and opened it.

He stood on the doorstep, his expression unreadable. “Can I come in?”

“If you want. But I’m leaving,” she told him, then turned back to finish packing.

He followed her inside. “Emily, stop. Can we… can we just talk?” He hovered near the end of her bed—the bed they’d lain in together, making love—looking for the first time since she’d met him, awkward and uncertain.

“There’s really nothing to say, is there?” She threw some more clothes from the dresser into her suitcase.

“You don’t actually believe I bought what he was selling, do you?”

She turned her face away from him so he wouldn’t see her tears. “Don’t you?”

“No. Not for a second. It was them my anger was directed at. Not you.”

She balled up a bunch of socks and threw them in. “But you wonder now, don’t you? You’ll always wonder if my motives were—”

“Were what?”

“To trick you into…” Tears erupted from her eyes again. “It doesn’t matter now.”

“That’s your brother talking. Not you. But you still haven’t answered my question.”

She sniffed, looking up in confusion. “What question?”

“The marry-me question. You kind of left me hanging out there.”

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