“And I love the actions. But I need the words too. Ned was all actions: romantic dinners, flowers, picnics . . . plenty of actions. But he never gave me any words at all. He didn’t even have the words to say ‘oh, by the way, our bed is now the bed I’m in with your former best friend.’” Emma shook her head. “I don’t want to be taken care of, I want to be loved.”
“I’m a dumbass,” Simon said, voice husky with emotion.
Emma whipped around to stare at him.
“A complete dumbass,” he said again, coming closer, until he stood before her, more serious than she’d ever seen him. “Regardless of the stupid way I went about it, I wasn’t proposing so I could take care of you, or because it was the right thing to do. I wasn’t trying to save you. Seriously, Emma, you’re the strongest woman I know. You’ve inspired me with your grace, your fire, your spirit. You don’t need me to save you, you don’t need anyone. I just want to be with you, at your side. Not as your crutch, but as the guy who’s lucky enough to be loved by you. Because nothing’s ever felt so right as being with you. I realize I did this backward, so let me fix that right now. I love you, Emma, to my soul and back. Period. I want to spend the rest of my life with you because I can’t imagine it without you in it.”
“Now see, that’s the way to propose,” Alison said. “Good to know us Armstrongs can eventually figure our shit out.”
Simon took his cousin by the hand and then pushed her out of the room.
“Hey, it’s my kitchen!”
Ignoring this, Simon shut the door and walked back to Emma.
“I’m going to be listening!” Alison said through the door.
“And that’s something else I should have mentioned,” Simon said, never taking his gaze off Emma. “My family, they’re a lot.”
“Oh my God,” Alison said. “I feel like I suddenly understand Ryan’s family on a core level. Who knew?”
Simon lifted a hand to the door, like See? A lot.
Emma snorted, and Simon smiled. “God, I love when you look at me like that, like you’re trying to crawl into my head. That’s always been thrilling.” He cupped her face. “And also, if I’m being honest, unnerving. No one’s ever done that before. It’s probably what made it easy for me to hold back. But with you . . .” He shook his head like he was a little awestruck. “Have you ever loved someone so much that when they smile at you, your heart stops? Because that’s how it is with you, Emma, from the first day I met you. You look at me like no one else ever has. You see the real me. You call me out on my bullshit. Even now, your beautiful eyes are holding me accountable, analyzing me without even trying to hide your own thoughts. Do you know how amazing that is?”
She slowly shook her head. “I didn’t know I was doing all that. I don’t know how to be any different.”
“I’m glad.” Simon paused, and his smile faded. “My life isn’t my own. There’s my dad. Armstrong Properties. And both those things are pretty demanding of my time. You’d have to be okay with that, which is something I can’t ask of you.”
Emma could see Simon really was expecting her to turn and walk out the door. Her heart squeezed hard because she couldn’t blame him. It’d happened to him before. “Okay,” she said.
He was very, very still. “Okay?”
“Okay, I’m in. Dale’s your family, and you’re mine. Family looks after family.”
He caught her hand and a second later she was plastered against his warm, hard body. His kiss burned with a gentle intensity, sending a trickle of molten lava into her belly and straight down. When he pulled back, he brushed a kiss to her temple. “I need you to be sure.”
“I am. I want you in my life, Simon. At my back, at my side, stand wherever you want, just as long as you’re mine.”
Simon smiled. “That’s already done. I’m yours.”
“Seems fair, since I’m yours too.” Her eyes went all misty again. “Simon?”
“Anything, Emma. Name it.”
“Will you marry me?”
“Wait, I get to be maid of honor, right?” Alison yelled through the door. “I’ve always wanted one of those stupid overpriced bridesmaids’ dresses!”
Ignoring his cousin, Simon hauled Emma in close. “Yes, I’ll marry you. Tomorrow, next week, next year. Whenever you want.”
They were kissing when Alison spoke again. “What am I supposed to do now?”
“Go away,” Simon said.
“How long do you need?”
Simon smiled down into Emma’s face. “The rest of my life . . .”
Emma’s heart caught but she nodded. “That sounds like just the right amount of time . . .”
Epilogue
One year later
Emma’s heart was pounding through her ears. She could feel sweat dripping between her breasts. Her lungs, taxed beyond endurance, refused to draw in another breath. So she stopped short, bent over, and put her hands on her thighs to gasp for air.
This was silly. She had only a quarter of a mile left. In fact, she could see the finish line on the beach ahead, flags blowing in the breeze, and a crowd gathered to cheer on the winner.
Except the winner had crossed the finish line a long time ago.
In fact, she was the very last one left in the 5K.
Trying not to care about that, she sucked in another breath. She’d insisted on doing this race alone, refusing to let anyone do it with her. Simon had understood, but she knew he’d been bummed. Not Alison. She’d pumped her fist with relieved victory.
But now the big day had finally arrived and she’d gotten through two-thirds of the race. The muscles in her legs were quaking like Jell-O, and suddenly she wasn’t sure she could do this. But then a set of running shoes appeared on either side of hers, one male, one female.
“Hey, babe. Whatcha doing?”
Emma turned her head and, still bent over, looked up at Simon. “Oh, you know, just hanging out.”
He grinned. “Looking good.”
“Which is really annoying, bee-tee-dub.” This from Alison, on her other side. “I’ve taken, what, maybe fifty steps, and my hair’s already flat to my head and my mascara’s running. The least you could do is look like you were in a coma two years ago.”
Emma laughed wryly and straightened. “Why would you wear makeup to a 5K?”
“Why wouldn’t you?”
Emma started walking. Maybe she couldn’t run the rest of the way, but now that she wasn’t alone, she’d crawl over the finish line if she had to.
Simon took her hand in his, gently squeezed, and when she looked up at him, his smile dazzled. “Proud of you, Em.”
Yeah. She was kind of proud of herself too.
“Damn, this is hard work,” Alison said. “Hey, Si, give me a piggyback ride like you used to do when we were kids.”
“Maybe if you still weighed sixty-five pounds.”
“Rude.” Alison tossed her hair. “And anyway, technically, I’m your boss now, so you should have to do what I say.”
A year ago, the same week Emma and Simon had gotten engaged, he’d promoted Alison to CEO of Armstrong Properties. Thrilled, she’d taken the job, but still kept up with Paw Pals, which thankfully was doing better than expected. Emma was so proud of its success.