“It loses some of its grandeur when you’re around it so much. Sometimes you have to take a step back to really appreciate its true beauty.” My eyes stay locked on hers as I say the words, and I’m absolutely not talking about the library anymore. I think she knows it, too, because she swallows, taking a small step closer to me. “If you find a book that piques your interest, feel free to take it.”

Take my heart while you’re at it, Emma.

“Do you mean it?”

I don’t think I’ve ever been more sure of something in my life.

“Of course. As many as you’d like.”

“No one from the Dawson clan is going to hunt me down?”

“My parents won’t care.”

“Thank you,” she says giddily. “I think I’ll wait until we have more time. I don’t want to make a rash decision.”

Do you remember the first day we saw each other? I wish we had more time.

“They say absence makes the heart grow fonder.” I offer her my hand again. “Ready to tackle this shindig?”

Her fingers slide into mine, a lock in a key. “Yeah. I am.”

I nod, leading her from the library and down the winding stairs, halting at the glass door to the backyard. It’s already chaos outside; children are running through the grass and servers carry full trays of mimosas and orange juice. The smell of prepared food wafts through the air, and brunch will be served shortly.

“Do you want to have a secret phrase in case we need to tap out for a minute?” I ask, not sure what protocol might be.

“I’ve always wanted to be a spy. How about ‘can I get you another plate?’ What do you think? Not too obvious?”

“It’s perfect. You’re going to be fresh meat to these people. Sure you don’t want to back out?”

“I’m ready, Henry.” She pats my forearm, reassuring me. “This isn’t my first rodeo.”

Her words are acid on my skin. How could I forget? She’s helped numerous men in situations like this. Does she hold their hand, too? Wrap her arms around their bodies? Does she blush when they look at her like I do—like she’s the only woman in the world?

I plaster on a smile. “Right. You’re a professional.” Turning the knob on the door, I gently nudge her over the threshold of safety and into the throes of hell.

In almost perfect unison, all eyes snap up to us the moment we walk outside. I keep the smile on as we approach the mass of people, and Emma does the same, her demeanor relaxed and effortless, like we’re strolling through the park on a lazy Sunday afternoon and not walking straight into a lion’s den. There are hushed whispers, murmurs of shock and surprise, and shaking heads.