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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

PW: What do you mean, J? Those are words every woman wants to hear.

HD: You aren’t helping. I’ll text you guys after.

Slipping my phone away, I sidestep a baby carriage, grinning as I approach Emma outside Beans and Brews. She hasn’t noticed me yet, and I take five seconds to stare at her. Her head is turned toward the sun, a content smile on her face. Bronzed arms are on display, courtesy of our beach trip last weekend. Her golden hair glows in the light, a beacon that literally draws me closer, feet scurrying across the pavement.

“You’re late,” she says, bringing her chin down and smiling at me. There’s humor behind the chastising, and I’m glad I didn’t make her wait too long.

“Sorry,” I apologize, hugging her. “Meeting ran long. Hi, Sunflower. I missed you.”

“I missed you, too.” With a peck to my cheek, she tangles our fingers together, giving my palm a squeeze. “Where’s this new restaurant you wanted to try?”

There isn’t a restaurant I want to try. It was a lie I fed her to get her out of the office for more than three minutes.

“I’ll show you.” Leading the way, I hustle her onto the busy sidewalk, merging into the pedestrian traffic. “We need to hurry.”

“I don’t understand why we’re in such a rush and you’re acting so secretive. Are we meeting someone?”

I stop in front of a building, reaching our destination. “You trust me, right?”

“Of course,” she answers immediately.

The last two years have been blissful and nothing short of perfect. Other couples tell us the honeymoon phase should be ending soon, and we’ll start to grow sick of each other, yet Emma and I are as strong as ever. In fact, our relationship is stronger now than it has been in 24 months. Even with our contrasting personalities and lifestyle enjoyments, we’ve blended our lives together seamlessly. We work very hard to keep each other happy, but it’s never felt like a chore or burden.

Our social calendar is always busy, spending frequent nights out with friends. She gets along great with the guys, and, more importantly, their other halves. The women hang out more than we do, having formed a quick bond they continue to develop with frequent bookstore trips, hikes, and visits to new donut shops and cafes with delicious pastries.