Page 71 of Summertime Friends

“Allowed you to be? States, I haven’t done anything. You are this person already.”

“Doesn’t feel that way,” I breathe out.

“Why?”

“I. . . I don’t know. . .”

“Please don’t get mad at what I’m about to say. But—” Liam stops talking. Eyes roaming my face. I think he’s searching for a green light to continue.

“But?” I shift my head forward, urging him to continue.

“I’d never lie to you. . . or want to say anything to hurt you. But I think you allow your parent’s divorce to haunt you. It altered your thoughts, causing you to believe that you’ll never be enough for anyone. If you weren’t enough for them, the people who are supposed to love you unconditionally, then why or how could you be enough for anyone else? It’s dominos. That started it, and now you have this insistent part of you to put others ahead of you. Not in a compassionate or generous way—which you genuinely are, by the way—but ahead of who you truly are.” He reaches out to brush away a tear I didn’t realize was there off my cheek. “Appease me on something. That list of yours that we completed the past four weeks. Tell me which of those items were your ideas.”

I stare at him, blinking away the additional tears forming.

“I was right, none of them. There’s a reason for that.” The intensity of his gaze is driving me wild.

“I’m assuming you are going to tell me the reason?” I don’t doubt he isn’t going to tell me. I’m trying to give myself the extra moment to prepare myself for another truth bomb Liam is going to detonate on me. Whatever he is going to say, I probably already know deep down. That’s what sucks about all of this. I’m not oblivious to it. If a stranger can see it, I can see it.

“Your desire to be loved—which I know you don’tbelieve in,so you say.” I roll my eyes at him. “Allows you to be walkedover. Your friend? She’s learned exactly how to get whatever the hell she wants. Using you because you believe that if you don’t, she won’t be there for you.

“You said it yourself: you think you must be someone you aren’t to keep people. Those parts that make youyouwill go dormant at some point. Who is pushing you to be Emerson? Your ideas, interests, this side of you, Emerson, is fucking fascinating. Quite marvelous, truly.”

“Even the sass?”

“Might be my favorite part of you.” He smiles.

“How could you possibly know all of this?”

“Because from the moment I laid eyes on you, I knew exactly who you were.”

My heart skips a beat. “That’s not a valid answer. You just knew?”

“I couldn’t take my eyes off you that morning, right?”

“Right.”

“It wasn’t only because of your beauty, which please, know you are the most. . . shit. . . beautiful person I’ve laid my eyes on. I could easily stare into your emerald eyes all day. Tangle my hands in your hair if I can get them away long enough from your delicious curves.” He gives me a sexy smirk I know too well at this point. “If I could lose myself even more than I already have in you, I would.” He leans forward to kiss me gently. “Your wall might be tough for others to crack, but I saw right through it. Getting to know you the past few weeks? That confirmed every remarkable notion I had about you. You are so easy to love, Emerson.” It’s precisely what he told me that day in Paris when I told him about my parents. And now, I get this tickling sensation that he might love me. “Anyone who doesn’t know that, that’s their loss. But you also have to give them the opportunity to love you for exactly who you are in there.” He reaches out and taps my heart, then my brain, and then my mouth.

“Liam. . .”

“Don’t. Let me finish. This woman that you want to be, no are, she’s going to burn out.” Ouch, that sounds harsh. True, but harsh. “And that would be a loss. She’s in there. She’s in you. You have to try. Shit, not even try—just be you, States. And if you forget, think about me. I’m case study number one. An exemplary example of what it looks like when someone loves you for who you are.”

LIAM

That’s because I love her. I love Emerson Clarke.

30

EMERSON

Six Summers Ago

Liam, surprisingly, was the one to drag us out of bed. I didn’t go easy, but it was a battle worth losing. His flight to London was two hours after mine, but he insisted on going to the airport with me.

“Thank you,” I say to him outside of my gate. My boarding group called over the intercom.

“See you later, States.” He kisses me, then kisses me again before pivoting and walking away toward his gate.

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