Just because I’m not jealous doesn’t make it less embarrassing to attend a wedding as a guest when everyone thought I was going to be the bride.

I nce out the window, watching the city blur past. The streets are busy, cars honking, people moving in every direction. It’s strange, being here for the first time in almost a year. So much has changed, but it still feels… familiar.

A little too familiar.

I shift in my seat, pressing my lips together. Liam notices.

“Cold feet?” he asks, his voice light but I don’t miss the way his gaze sharpens.

I hesitate. “Not cold feet, exactly.”

Liam tilts his head, prompting me to continue. “Then what?”

I exhale, one of my hands clenched into a fist, with the other my fingers drum against my knee. “bIt’s /bjust… weird, you know? Going back into his world. Seeing people who knew us as a couple.”

Liam hums, watching me for a moment. Then, to my surprise, he reaches over and lightly taps the back of my hand.

Just like he did at Mar and Elijah’s wedding. He taps it over and over until I unclench it and he slips his hand into

mine.

My breath hitches.

“Just remember,” he says, his voice softer now, “you’re not going back as his anything. You’re going as you. And if anyone gives you a hard time…” He smirks. “I’ll handle it.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Oh? And how do you n to do that?”

Liam leans back,pletely rxed. “Dazzle them with my charm, obviously.”

I snort. “Right. Because that always works.”

He grins. “You’d be surprised.”

I roll my eyes but can’t help the small smile tugging at my lips.

Maybe this won’t be so bad.

Maybe.

I take my statement back.

I was wrong,pletely uninformed, and way too confident in my ability to handle this.

I might not be desperate, to get Zane’s ring, but that doesn’t mean I’m not a mess right now.

bMy /bnerves are so bad bthat /bwe have to pull over once so I bcan /bthrow up. Liam rubs slow circles on my backb, /bbharding /bme a bottle of water without a word. He doesn’t say anything snarky, doesn’t tease me, and somehow, that makes bit /bworse.

By the time we finally make it to the port–muchter than either of us expected–I half–hope bthe /bcruise bship /bhas already left. That they got tired of waiting and decided to sail off without us.

No such luck.

The moment we find a ce to park, the paparazzi swarm. Cameras sh in our faces before I even have a chance to

unbuckle my seatbelt.

Liam mutters a curse under his breath. “You good?*

I nod, even though I’m not.

His jaw tightens, but he doesn’t push. Instead, he grabs my hand and squeezes once before stepping out of bthe /bcar. The second he does, the shouting begins.

‘Liam! Over here!”

“Emilia, how do you feel about seeing Zane again?‘

“Is it true you and Liam are engaged?”

Engaged? We’re not even dating!

*Liam! What do you think about your girlfriend’s thing for hockey yers? Emilia, are you really a puck bunny?

The words hit like a p. My stomach twists. I nearly trip, but Liam’s grip on me tightens, kind of like an anchor- steady and unshakable.

I nce up at him, and for a second, I see it—the anger, the frustration. The same pain that’s been wing at me ever since those headlines started. NHL’s Favorite Puck Bunny. My face stered everywhereb, /bmy name dragged through the

mud.

At first I thought he didn’t care. And maybe he doesn’t. Maybe it’s just the guilt of knowing how far he let this go gnawing at him.

Then I remember how bad those two weeks were. How terrified I was to even stare in the mirrorb, /btoo busyparing

who I was to what everyone thought.

How hard it was to breathe.

The crowd presses closer. Cameras sh. Microphones are shoved in our faces.

My heart starts to be fasterb, /bso much that bit’s /bufortableb. /bMy stomach turns and twists and I bfeel /blike bI’m /bbgoing /bbto /bthrow up again.

“If it gets too much, just squeeze my hand, and we’re out of hereb./b*

Those were his words at Mar’s wedding. I wonder if they hold weight even now.

I squeeze bhis /bhand in rhythm with my heartbeat. Trying not to think about my chest that’s bdesperate /bbto /bbcave /bbin/bb. /b

Liam stopsb. /b

Dead in his tracks, he turns, his jaw clenched, his expression ice–cold. His voice is sharp enough to cut bthrough /bbthe /b

chaosb. /b

“You don’t deserve to say her name.” His eyes lock onto the reporter. “Call her that againb, /band we’ll have a problemb./bb” /b

Silence. Even the cameras stop clicking.

He doesn’t wait for a response. bHe /bsimply pulls me forward, pushing through the crowd like they’re nothing. bAnd /bfor the first time in weeksb, /bthe noise doesn’t feel so loud.

bChapter /bbComments /b

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