His Holiday Girlfriend: Fake Love, Real Christmas

BETWEEN LAUGHTER AND SCREAM

Emma's POV 

When the little girl's small voice echoed in the living room, Are you my mummy? My heart stopped. I froze mid-smile, unsure if my voice was even capable of responding.

A tiny pair of feet padded toward us, with her grey eyes widened. And for a moment, time did that funny thing where it slows down. 

"Um.." I said, choking on my words as I stepped forward.

I looked from the little girl to Liam. His mouth was open,  but then he closed it, blinked once and gently said. 

"Hey, Orla, sweetheart. You don't say that to someone you just met. Say hello first. This is Emma." 

Orla blinked shyly at me and tilted her head. Then she whispered, "Hello." Her voice was small but polite; her eyes were fixed on me, as if she were sizing me up. 

I could barely breathe. I hadn't prepared for this part because he didn't tell me he had a daughter. I wanted to say something smart. 

Instead, my voice came out as: "Hi... Orla. Your eyes are the same as your daddy's." 

Her little brows creased, and that tiny smile reformed. Before I could say anything further, Mrs Moira O'Connor, Liam's mother, burst in with a plate of steaming food. 

"Dinner is ready! Come on, everyone, sit, sit!" Her voice was loud with joy. 

Just as we were settling at the table, another pair of footsteps appeared. 

"Da," Liam said in a quiet voice. 

A tall, slightly worn man in a dark pullover entered. He had broad shoulders like Liam's, salt-and-pepper hair, and a calm face that didn't quite match his serious aura. 

"You must be Emma," he said as he brought out his hand, offering me a handshake. 

"Nice to meet you," I said, gripping his hand. His grip was firm but brief. 

"I'm Seamus," he introduced and turned his attention to Liam.

I noticed that Liam didn't hug him. Seamus didn't pat his shoulder. The only thing that passed between them was a short but heavy look. 

Dinner was surprisingly warm and filled with laughter. Liam's uncle, Padraig or uncle Paddy, makes jokes about how I pronounced Irish names. 

Siobhán kept repeating, Siobhán, no. Not See-bhon!. Liam was also getting teased for not teaching me to speak Irish. 

"Liam, when will you teach Emma how to say my name properly?" Moira teased, placing a dollop of mashed potatoes on my plate. 

"Just as soon as she survives my sisters' accents," he said, laughing. 

Siobhán leaned over. "Try saying it like She-vawn. Like a soft Shh." 

I repeated it a few times until even Uncle Paddy was laughing. "Close enough, lass!"

All the while, I kept sneaking glances at Liam. He was attentive and genuinely involved with Orla. He asked her about school, joked about her drawings and when she talked about her favourite part of all her school trips, Liam lit up in a way that made something inside me ache. 

Finally, dinner was over and I loved it. But right before we were about to excuse ourselves, Uncle Paddy spoke. 

"My daughter and her fiancé are visiting from London soon, and they'll be joining us for Christmas dinner too. Thought it'd be nice if you met them, Emma," He said, leaning back with a grin. 

I could feel my pulse race. More introductions weren't good for our plan. But I masked my face with a tight smile. "That sounds... lovely."

"Our room's this way," Liam said quietly as we ascended the stairs. 

"Are we sharing?" I asked in a tone just above a whisper.

He shrugged, then tilted his head. "There isn't an extra room unless we squeeze someone into the guest bed."

"Fine," I replied, forcing a smile. "But you better not snore." 

"You're the one who sleeps like a chainsaw in the windstorm." He opened the door to his room and entered. 

"Why didn't you tell me about Orla?" I asked, my tone softer than I expected. 

He didn't answer at first. He just looked at me. Finally, he murmured.

"Because she's not up for discussion. Not until I knew you'd be here. I didn't want to explain. 

I froze at his words. I felt my stomach sink, but instead of responding, I stepped into the bathroom and shut the door to brush my teeth.

Seconds later, I heard a knock. "Emma?" His voice came. 

I didn't want to talk. Before I could answer, he opened the door, closing the space between us. 

His presence was too close and warm. Liam didn't say anything, his eyes just held mine. And then without warning, his lips were on mine. 

It was soft at first, then harder and then hungry, like he was trying to memorise every inch of me. I should've stopped him or pushed him away. 

Instead, I whispered his name as his tongue brushed mine. I could feel my thigh become moist. But when I stood on my toes, inching closer to him we heard a sharp scream. 

"MUMMY!!"

My eyes shot open and we both froze. It was Orla. And she sounded terrified.