BooksBarbecue
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

Once we climb out of the car, I nod my thanks to the valet guy and slip him a ten-dollar bill. My arm slides around Emma’s waist as we walk into the building. The lighting is low and it takes a second for my eyes to adjust to the dimness. Soft jazz music filters through the room, hardly audible over the clinking of silverware and buzzed conversations.

The hostess leads us to a small booth, tucked away in a corner. I hold Emma’s hand as she sits down, not letting go until she’s safely settled on the leather.

“Do you want to get a bottle of wine?”

“That sounds great. Red or white?”

“You pick. Get whatever you want.”

She hums, surveying the menu options, looking exactly like she did in high school when she studied—focused and poised. I know she thinks I never noticed her over those four years, but somehow my eyes were always drawn to her.

It’s as if they could see something I couldn’t, telling my brain one day.

Be patient.

It’s worth the wait.

I’d see her in the school library, tucked away behind a stack of books, her ponytail barely visible while literature by Faulkner and Fitzgerald sat on her table. In the hallway as she walked to class, I trailed meters behind with my group of buddies, always wanting to say hello and never knowing how. I even noticed her at a baseball game once, high up in the bleachers, wearing a large sweatshirt and hat. She focused on the notebook in her lap more than the game itself, but I once caught her eyeing me with a curious glance.

All those little moments, which, at the time, seemed so unimportant, have somehow led us here. Right now. Me, smiling at her across the table at dinner, two souls that have forged down the same road, eventually intersecting and meeting as one.

Together.

“Let’s do the red,” she decides. The waiter returns with two glasses and a full bottle. After giving us each a hearty pour, I hold up my drink and she mimics me.

“To the best first date with the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on. I wouldn’t want to spend it with anyone else.”

Our glasses clink and she blushes before bringing the liquid to her lips. I watch her swallow down the sip, throat bobbing, and all I want to do is kiss down her neck, following its path.