EMILIA
What the hell do I even say to that?
I just... stare at him. Like an i***t. My mouth opens, but no words come out.
Liam gives me this small, sad smile — dimples and all — and somehow that’s worse. It knocks the air right out of my lungs.
“You don’t have to say anything,” he murmurs. His thumb brushes lightly against my hand, like he’s trying to memorize the feel of me. “I didn’t say it because I expected you to.”
A million responses spin through my brain — yes, no, maybe, kiss me — but none of them make it out.
So instead, I blurt out, “I still don’t forgive you.”
His lips twitch. “Deserved.”
“And you’re going to have to work for it,” I add, trying — and failing — to sound stern.
Liam leans in just a little, like he can’t help himself. His voice drops low, almost like a sec
