Chapters (89)
- Dedication
- AUTHOR’S NOTE
- ONE
- HENRY
- TWO
- EMMA
- THREE
- HENRY
- FOUR
- EMMA
- FIVE
- EMMA
- SIX
- SEVEN
- HENRY
- EIGHT
- NINE
- TEN
- HENRY
- ELEVEN
- TWELVE
- EMMA
- THIRTEEN
- HENRY
- FOURTEEN
- HENRY
- FIFTEEN
- SIXTEEN
- EMMA
- SEVENTEEN
- HENRY
- EIGHTEEN
- HENRY
- NINETEEN
- HENRY
- TWENTY
- TWENTY-ONE
- EMMA
- TWENTY-TWO
- EMMA
- TWENTY-THREE
- HENRY
- TWENTY-FOUR
- EMMA
- TWENTY-FIVE
- EMMA
- TWENTY-SIX
- EMMA
- TWENTY-SEVEN
- HENRY
- TWENTY-EIGHT
- EMMA
- TWENTY-NINE
- HENRY
- THIRTY
- HENRY
- THIRTY-ONE
- HENRY
- THIRTY-TWO
- EMMA
- THIRTY-THREE
- HENRY
- THIRTY-FOUR
- EMMA
- THIRTY-FIVE
- EMMA
- THIRTY-SIX
- HENRY
- THIRTY-SEVEN
- EMMA
- THIRTY-EIGHT
- HENRY
- THIRTY-NINE
- HENRY
- FORTY
- EMMA
- FORTY-ONE
- HENRY
- FORTY-TWO
- FORTY-THREE
- EMMA
- FORTY-FOUR
- EMMA
- FORTY-FIVE
- HENRY
- EPILOGUE
- ALSO BY CHELSEA CURTO
- ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
- ABOUT THE AUTHOR
It’s becoming clear why I’ve successfully avoided this type of commitment to a single person for over three decades; not knowing what the other person is thinking… what the other person is feeling… what the other person wants or doesn’t want is fucking irritating. What am I supposed to do? Give her a hug and ask if she’s been daydreaming about the other night, too, visions of chocolate chips haunting my thoughts? Play it off like nothing happened, pat her back, and call her buddy or pal?
God, help me. I’m a fucking mess.
“Ready to get going?” I ask, grasping for a neutral topic. “My parents want to have dinner with us tonight, and, being the senior citizens they are, if we aren’t through the restaurant door by 5 on the dot, they get dangerous. I want to protect you at all costs, Zebra Cakes.”
The joke and nickname earn me a tip of her lips and a slight hint of a grin. I cheer inwardly.
“Yeah, I’m ready. Thanks again for driving.” Emma turns and shuts the door, locking it with her key. I hurry up the stairs to take her suitcase and a full smile crosses her face.
She’s beautiful. It’s such a natural beauty; no makeup, no hair products, no fancy outfits or adornments. She’s showing me all of her exactly as she is. And it’s fucking exquisite.
“It’d probably be difficult for you to get us there without a car. I didn’t realize you don’t drive.” Lifting her bag down the concrete, I hoist it in the bed of my truck next to mine.
“I can walk to the train station and take it into the city. Beats having to sit in traffic, since not all of us live in the heart of downtown in a nice apartment with a parking garage like you,” she teases, flipping her hair behind her shoulder.
My eyes zero in on her skin, right above the collar of her shirt, finding the hollow spot of her neck I wanted to kiss the other night when we were together. Nostrils flaring, I look away, opening the passenger side door for her to climb in.
“Want me to put the flowers in the back?”
“That would be great. I got them for your mom. And the bottle of wine that’s probably going to taste like shit compared to what they’ll have at the party.”
“It’s the thought that counts, and this is very kind.” Taking the items from her, I set them in the backseat next to the bag of snacks I brought. I slide into the driver’s seat and adjust the rear-view mirror. “All set?”