She stared at him with brows drawn together in disbelief. “You imagined that?”
“Yes. Every possible logistic.”
Emma couldn’t lie. Over the years, she’d imagined similar things and worked out, in her head, every obstacle. “I don’t know what to say.” She couldn’t think straight. “Your men are probably out there by now, waiting for you,” she reminded him.
Oliver gazed toward the Atlantic, thunderous in the distance, and a muscle twitched at his jaw. He took Emma’s face in his hands. “Please, just tell me there’s hope.”
But Emma was afraid to hope. More than once, hope had only sent her plummeting from the clouds to the earth and had caused her dreadful pain.
“I’m married,” she said. “And so are you.”
“But do you love him?”
Her answer came all too easily. “No. I thought I did at first. Maybe I did, because he helped me forget you for a while. But he’s not a part of my life anymore.”
“Neither is my wife.”
“But your children . . .”
“I’ll always be their father, and they know it. They’re old enough to understand that now.” His voice was steady, and his eyes were clear.
Emma felt a wave of panic charging suddenly toward her. He was suggesting the kind of relationship she’d wanted in the beginning, andshe would have walked through fire to hear him say these things seven years ago. But nothing was the same as it was. She wasn’t the same person. She’d been here before and done this before.
“I’ll be broken after you go,” she said. “Just like last time.”
He pulled her into his arms and spoke close in her ear. “No, you won’t, because I’ll promise to come back.”
“But when?”
“As soon as I can.” His breath was hot and moist in her ear. “If you tell me there’s hope, at Christmas, I’ll bring a ring for you. I’ll get down on one knee and propose properly.”
Trembling, Emma stepped back. A part of her was still afraid to believe this was truly happening.
He laid his hand on her cheek and looked into her eyes. “I’ll do whatever it takes to never say goodbye to you again.”
“How?”
“I’ll file for divorce. I’ll come back here a free man—or a soon-to-be free man. Then we can make plans.”
“But I won’t be free,” she reminded him. “I’ll still be married.”
“Do you want to stay married?” he asked.
It was another question that was easy to answer. “Not to Logan.”
A smile spread across Oliver’s face, and he laughed. His joy was contagious, and she found herself laughing too.
He cupped her face in his hands again. “Emma. Please. Can I kiss you?”
“Yes.”
His lips found hers, and the pressure of his mouth sent her heart into a frenzy. She grasped blindly for his face and slid her hands around the back of his neck to pull him closer, to deepen the kiss—a kiss she’d dreamed about for what felt like an eternity.
Their bodies melded together in the fading light. Oliver led her deeper into the heart of the garden, and Emma followed willingly. He got down on his knees and held out a hand. Emma knelt too. Then she lay back and reached her arms out to him. He covered her body withhis, kissed her deeply, and laid light kisses across her cheek and down the side of her neck.
A soft breeze whispered through the greenery, and the perfume of the roses was like a fine wine sliding into Emma’s soul. It was the most welcome, exquisite intoxication, which made it easy to ignore the vague and distant voice in her head that was warning her to be careful and protect her heart. She was still afraid of losing this man, but she’d wanted him for too long. She couldn’t possibly deny herself this pleasure, the fulfillment of a dream. Whatever happened between them, even if she never saw him again, she knew she could never regret this. She would cherish the memory for the rest of her life.
In the magic that followed, Emma pushed aside any fears about the future. All that mattered was this gift of rapture as they made love. It was like floating inside a dream.
