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Back The Companion Project Save as PDF
Chapters (89)
  1. Dedication
  2. AUTHOR’S NOTE
  3. ONE
  4. HENRY
  5. TWO
  6. EMMA
  7. THREE
  8. HENRY
  9. FOUR
  10. EMMA
  11. FIVE
  12. EMMA
  13. SIX
  14. SEVEN
  15. HENRY
  16. EIGHT
  17. NINE
  18. TEN
  19. HENRY
  20. ELEVEN
  21. TWELVE
  22. EMMA
  23. THIRTEEN
  24. HENRY
  25. FOURTEEN
  26. HENRY
  27. FIFTEEN
  28. SIXTEEN
  29. EMMA
  30. SEVENTEEN
  31. HENRY
  32. EIGHTEEN
  33. HENRY
  34. NINETEEN
  35. HENRY
  36. TWENTY
  37. TWENTY-ONE
  38. EMMA
  39. TWENTY-TWO
  40. EMMA
  41. TWENTY-THREE
  42. HENRY
  43. TWENTY-FOUR
  44. EMMA
  45. TWENTY-FIVE
  46. EMMA
  47. TWENTY-SIX
  48. EMMA
  49. TWENTY-SEVEN
  50. HENRY
  51. TWENTY-EIGHT
  52. EMMA
  53. TWENTY-NINE
  54. HENRY
  55. THIRTY
  56. HENRY
  57. THIRTY-ONE
  58. HENRY
  59. THIRTY-TWO
  60. EMMA
  61. THIRTY-THREE
  62. HENRY
  63. THIRTY-FOUR
  64. EMMA
  65. THIRTY-FIVE
  66. EMMA
  67. THIRTY-SIX
  68. HENRY
  69. THIRTY-SEVEN
  70. EMMA
  71. THIRTY-EIGHT
  72. HENRY
  73. THIRTY-NINE
  74. HENRY
  75. FORTY
  76. EMMA
  77. FORTY-ONE
  78. HENRY
  79. FORTY-TWO
  80. FORTY-THREE
  81. EMMA
  82. FORTY-FOUR
  83. EMMA
  84. FORTY-FIVE
  85. HENRY
  86. EPILOGUE
  87. ALSO BY CHELSEA CURTO
  88. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  89. ABOUT THE AUTHOR

I’m going to catapult Henry Dawson across his parents’ backyard.

He’s been tormenting me all day with lingering touches, seductive winks, and deep chuckles that vibrate against my sizzling skin. I’m about to snap, tiptoeing toward the point where I lose all self-control and modesty. I’m close to pulling him into the kitchen pantry and begging him to go down on me right there under the cereal boxes and sugar containers like he suggested earlier.

He’s a sorcerer, doing something inconceivable to my brain, yanking me under a dark oasis, offering me pleasure and satisfaction while being kind and attentive along the way. It’s the perfect balance between the man I want in bed and the man I want beside me in real life. How does that make any sense?

I figured he’d be interested in vapid communication to fill the time and toss me half-assed remarks while he pushed for intimacy on his terms, dictating the way the weekend is going to play out. Turns out, it’s the total opposite. It’s patience. Care. Are you okays and You feel rights. Check ins and warm embraces. Cuddling and hand holding. Smiling at me from across the lawn and lighting up when I grin back. Forehead kisses and gentle hugs. It’s magical. Astonishing. Any doubt I had about him and his lack of experience with relationships has vanished, and I’m left with a man willing to try and work and grow with me.

I could dwell on these musings, pondering them until the wee hours of the morning and cataloging each encounter, but it’s our last night here and I want to be present. I want to enjoy the time we have left, soaking up the familial interactions and malice-free jokes at Henry’s expense. Even if my underwear is soaked through.

We spent the afternoon mingling with guests and family, laughing at shared stories about Anne and George’s early days of marriage and their children’s memories of growing up with parents who were prominent in the world of politics and law.

As the sun sets, we dine on small plates while lounging in a less formal environment. Pulled pork sliders, fried macaroni and cheese bites, and flatbread pizzas are devoured over cocktail tables and lawn chairs. The last big event of the weekend is the fireworks show. I’ve been looking forward to this since Henry first told me about the party. It’s funny to think about how far we’ve come since those first few messages.

“Are you warm enough?” Henry asks, sliding into the seat next to me. I’m wearing his suit jacket, passed over to me when I shivered once. He darted across the grass and deposited the garment around my shoulders without a second thought, like he was watching and waiting for me to get cold, ready to jump in.