Chapter 5 Her Mother

HER MOTHER

Emma's POV

As my eyes fluttered open, I woke up to silence. And not the usual warmth of Liam's chest at my back or the soft press of his lips on mine. Not his teasing fingers slimming over my skin.

I woke up to cold air and an empty bed. My eyelids closed multiple times, blinking into the dim light. I sat up and glanced to his side of the bed, but it was still made and untouched.

That was when the memories from last night returned. Orla's scream was caused by the light in her room going off, and she was scared of the dark. Liam had quickly gotten the lights back on, but her tears hadn't stopped until he crept into her bed and promised to stay.

I had stood awkwardly by the door, staring at the affectionate moment between father and daughter before I went back to the room. He hadn't come back at night.

I dragged myself from the bed and padded to the bathroom. The mirror was fogged, and the sink was damp. He'd been here and left, but didn't wake me. Great.

After quickly washing up, I got dressed in a comfortable shirt and pants and stepped out into the hallway. The house was already lively with movements and voices.

But there was no sight of Liam. I found Siobhán first in the kitchen, pouring tea into a thick ceramic mug.

"Morning, Emma," she said with a soft smile. "Did you sleep well?"

"Yeah. Thanks." I replied while returning the smile. Hesitating, I asked. "Umm.. do you know where Liam is?"

She nodded. "Left for dad's mechanic workshop. He said something about checking bikes."

My eyebrows widened. "Checking bikes at your dad's mechanic workshop."

Siobhán's smile deepened. "Surprised? Liam's hands aren't just for courtroom drama. He spends his time checking bikes when he's back home."

He hadn't mentioned that. Again, he'd kept another part of him away from me.

"He's full of surprise," I said, forcing a small laugh.

In the living room, Mrs Moira was arranging a small list. "Emma, darling," she called with the soft smile she'd given me yesterday.

"Do you need anything? Maybe, personal items."

I could feel my chest squeeze and my heart float with warmth. "That's very kind of you." I paused and stared at her for a while. Even my aunt had never shown me such warmth and kindness.

"Actually I forgot my moisturiser. It's the only one that doesn't make me break out."

"Write it here," she said, pushing the notepad toward me. "We'll stop by the store later."

While I was writing, she suddenly asked, "Do you know Liam's native name?"

Looking up at her, I saw her eyes twinkle with something unexplainable.

"Ailill," I said as I tried not to grin. "He told me it means elf or something like that. And he hates it."

For a moment, she was quiet, before she let out a laugh. "He does. One day I'll tell you how he had that name."

I smiled and gave her a curt nod. I knew she had just tested me. Liam had warned me before we arrived.

A little while later, Siobhán called out from the hallway, holding Orla's small coat. "I'm taking her to the park. You want to come?"

"Of course." I wanted to see what the city looked like and I needed the distraction.

The nearest park was only a short walk away. It seemed to have snowed a bit last night, but the sun was already up. The houses we passed had their porches decorated with Christmas trees and lights.

Ahead, Orla was running and giggling while her brown curly hair bounced under her hat. My lips curled up in a smile as I watched her. She was beautiful and a happy kid.

Liam is lucky to have her as a kid, and she's lucky to be his daughter. Or they both are lucky to be in each other's lives.

"She likes you," Siobhán said, bringing me out of my reverie. "You're the forest woman she's met like this."

I stopped in my tracks. "Like this?" My brows arched, askance.

"She doesn't usually see her dad with... anyone." Siobhán glanced at me as she explained. "Don't hurt her, Emma."

I felt my stomach do those strange flips again, but this time it twisted. I wasn't only going to hurt her, but all of them. I've been acting a lie.

"I won't." I managed to say.

We found a bench near the kids' area and settled in. Conversation rolled smoothly as we talked about random things like the weather, holidays, and makeups.

But then, we heard loud voices. Children were shouting, and I turned to see a small crowd forming near where Orla was.

A girl who looked five years older was yelling at Orla, who was cornered away and her tiny shoulders were hunched.

I couldn't hear the words, but her face was pale and tight. Then the girl shoved her. Immediately I bolted toward them.

"Oi!" Siobhán yelled, storming ahead.

As we reached them, the girl's mother rushed over too, glaring at us. "You have no right to shout at my child!" Her Irish accent was so thick.

"No right?" Siobhán bristled. "Your daughter was bullying a five-year-old!" Her tone was high.

"She was defending herself," the girl's mother stretched the word like she wanted to convince herself rather than us. "The brat tried to take her toy."

Brat?

I stepped forward, feeling fury rise in my throat. "If your daughter is this mean, maybe you should ask yourself who taught her."

Her eyes widened. "Excuse me?"

"You're excused," I replied, as I moved closer.

"You want respect? Teach your child how to act like a decent human being. And maybe keep your insults out of a public playground."

I could see rage flood her eyes. "Who even are you to this child?" The woman snapped, angry. "Her nanny?"

"I'm her mother." The words slipped out before I could even stop them.

The rude girl's mother blinked like I'd slapped her. Siobhán's lips parted in shock, and her brows raised. Orla stared up at me, her eyes wide and unreadable. I could feel everyone's eyes on me.

My cheeks flushed with heat, but I didn't look away. Still, I didn't correct myself, because at that moment it felt natural.

Orla didn't say anything; instead, she stepped closer to me, and her small hand brushed mine. I felt my throat tighten.

What did I just do? What did I just say? And why do I feel so damn right?