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“He had several affairs,” she says, gazing down at the water. There was no anger or malice in her voice when she said it. “My father is Italian, and he is a very charming man. Unfortunately, my mother wasn’t good enough for him. In fact, one woman never seemed to be enough. Mum was devastated when she discovered what he’d done and with how many women. I don’t remember that, though. I was too young. She was ashamed to live in the same town, so we moved. Dad decided he wanted a new start, too, and seemed to forget he had children at all.”
“I’m sorry,” I say, throwing her a glance.
She looks over at me and shrugs nonchalantly. “There’s no need. I just got used to growing up without him in my life. I did go through a nihilistic period in my early teens, but it passed.”
“Nihilistic,” I repeat with a smile. “That’s far too big of a word for this time of day.”
She grins then, and eventually, I pull the truck into a parking space.
“Where are we?” she asks, looking around.
“This place is a waterfront esplanade. Come on,” I say, opening my door. “And bring that ice cream with you.” I smirk.
We sit at the waterfront overlooking the Hudson and watch the world go by. While eating our ice cream, I continue to ask about her childhood. Emma continues to fill me in on things I didn’t know, like how she actually met my little sister. Her paternal grandmother lives in Italy, and Emma was visiting. I wasn’t surprised to discover that my sister and her friends managed to get themselves lost.
“That sounds just like Sylvie,” I say.
“To be fair, those piazzas all do look the same,” Emma says, defending my sister in her absence.
I throw the tubs in the trash and return to the bench, sitting back down beside Emma. She’s gazing out at the Hudson, and a soft breeze blows at the strands of her hair. I watch her for a long moment, but eventually, she senses my eyes on her and turns toward me.
“What?” she says, a blush coming to those dimpled cheeks.
“You’re just an amazing woman,” I reply. I watch as the blush gets deeper. Then the embarrassment gets to be too much, and she pushes herself off the bench and walks toward the water’s edge. She’s leaning against the barrier when I stroll over and join her.
“Why do you find compliments so hard to take?” I ask, standing so close our arms are touching.
“Doesn’t everyone?” she says. “I’m sure if I said something like that to you, you’d feel self-conscious too.”
I shake my head. “I don’t think so. Besides, you’ve already paid me such a compliment, and I’m pretty sure I was okay with it.”
Emma frowns and shakes her head. “No, I haven’t.”
“Oh, but you have.” I smile down at her knowingly. “You just don’t remember.”
Her mind is working overtime, and then I see the lightbulb moment in her expression. “I said something in the hospital, didn’t I?” she blurts. “What did I say?”
“You told me I was beautiful,” I reply.
“Oh, my God!” she cries. Both her hands come to cover her face, and she makes a strange noise of discomfort.
I try hard not to laugh. She’s just too cute when she’s embarrassed. After a minute, her hands are still covering her face, and I’m wondering if she’ll ever be able to look me in the eye again. I can’t imagine what that would be like, so I gently take her elbow and turn her to face me. Slowly, one hand at a time, I move her hands from her face and look down at her. Her face is bright red, and while she’s beaming, she can’t look at me.
“Hey,” I say, hooking my finger under her chin and lifting her face up to mine. “It’s okay.”
She rolls her eyes and pulls a face. It doesn’t make her any less beautiful. I gaze at her for a long moment, and as my heart thumps in my chest, I know what I want to do right now. Her eyes meet mine, and they lock. Just like that day in the garden, when I took hold of her hand over the rake. I lower my head, and she tilts her chin toward me.
When our lips finally meet, and I feel the softness of her skin beneath mine, my body reacts in all sorts of ways. Not least of which is the intense sensation of euphoria in the depths of my stomach and the racing beat of my heart. Emma’s hands grip my upper arms as she pulls herself closer to me, and the kiss gets more intense. Neither of us wants to pull away, but when we eventually do, we’re both breathless.
“Wow,” I say when I can find my voice.
Emma blushes again and smiles coyly.
I lift my hand to her cheek and brush the soft skin just above her dimples. “Like I said,” I repeat, “you’re an amazing woman.”
When we get back to the house, everyone is already home from work, and I can see Emma’s discomfort. I don’t think she’s ashamed of what happened between us. I think she just doesn’t want to announce it to my entire family. I play along and pretend everything is the same as it was when they all left for work this morning.
“Bree and Jackson are coming over again tomorrow evening,” Sylvie announces at dinner. “It’s going to be their last visit before the wedding, so I’ve ordered some wine and food.”
