THE KNOCK
Emma’s POV
The next morning, I decided not to think about the phone call.
That was the conclusion I reached sometime between brushing my teeth and tying my hair into a loose ponytail that still smelled faintly of Liam’s soap.
Thinking about it would mean analysing it, and analysing it would mean asking questions I had no right to ask.
So instead, I focused on the house. Liam’s house wasn’t grand. It wasn’t one of those dramatic old Irish homes you saw in movies, all ivy and stone and tragic history. It was solid. Lived-in. Masculine without being aggressive about it.
A pine garland ran along the banister, dotted with small white lights. There were red candles on the windowsills, their wax melted unevenly, as if they’d been lit and relit over the years. The faint scent of c
