Page 90 of The Mister I Married

He raked a hand through his still-damp hair as a pang of conscience shot through him at what had nearly happened today. At what he might have lost.

“You mustn’t blame yourself, either,” Emmy said, taking a step toward him, and then another. “You found him, Alex. He’s going to be fine because of you.”

He nodded, taking comfort in her words, though he did not trust himself to speak. He drifted back to the fire, and leaned a shoulder against the cool stone hearth, waiting for Emmy to talk to him, to explain her presence here.

But she did not speak again, and the silence dragged on, excruciating, maddening, until finally, he could stand it no longer.

“Why are you here, Emmy?” he asked softly. “Why did you come back today?”

His questions were met with another silence, and Alex turned from the fire to face her, demanding she answer him. Demanding she answer for herself.

An unconvincing smile curved her lips, and her dimples winked as she shrugged. “I had to come back, didn’t I? To thank you for this beautiful ring.”

She held her hand out and fluttered her fingers, though Alex’s gaze never left her face. He studied her for a long moment, waiting for her to say more, to be serious, but again she denied him.

“You could have thanked me in a letter,” he said. “Saved yourself the travel.”

Her arm dropped to her side and her gave fell from his, her smile fading.

“Then again, you could have sold the ring and run away to Spain instead,” he said with a humorless half-smile. It was a ridiculous thing to say, but frustration apparently had addled his senses.

“No.” She gave a little shake of her head. “No, I couldn’t have done that.”

“Couldn’t you? I hear Spain is lovely this time of year.” He tried for a cavalier tone of voice but couldn’t quite manage it around the tightness in his throat.

“I’m sure it is,” she said softly, moving closer, her eyes on his, glinting like silver in the firelight. “But you’re not in Spain, Alex. You’re here. And I want to be where you are, wherever that might be.”

Standing before her husband, heart thudding, trembling hands clasped behind her back, Emmy had never felt more vulnerable than she did in this moment.

She awaited his reply in the agonizing silence, willing him to believe her, to forgive her folly and take her in his arms.

Instead, he crossed them over his chest and regarded her with cool hazel eyes as he said, “And yet, it was only yesterday you wanted to be anywhere but here with me.”

She grimaced, her gaze falling to her shoes. “I know. I was…upset. When Olivia said we looked like a couple in love, I just—” She broke off with a shake of her head. “It unsettled me, and I panicked.”

The trepidation she’d felt, the fear, when Olivia had said those words was so potent, all she could do was give in to it. Oh, how she regretted that moment of weakness now.

“Why?” Alex asked, drawing her gaze to his. “Why did that unsettle you so much?”

“Because I was afraid,” she said simply, though it was anything but simple. “I was afraid of love, afraid it would consume me, that it would somehow make me different, diluted. Less.” She lifted a shoulder, a sheepish gesture. “I don’t want to be less.”

He nodded slowly, and his eyes seemed to soften with understanding. “I don’t want that, either,” he said. “Believe it or not, I like you just as you are.”

She smiled, even as her heart gave a little flip. “I realized that when I read these words,” she said, stroking the gold band on her finger. “This inscription—it opened my eyes, Alex. It made me realize how foolish I was to doubt you. How silly it was to be afraid.”

She moved toward him, closing the distance until she could reach out and take his hands in hers. “You are the kindest man I have ever known,” she said, and though her stomach was a tangle of nerves, her voice was clear and strong.

“You are thoughtful and generous, and you think of everyone else before yourself. And those are just a few of the reasons why I am so lucky to call you my husband, and why I love you so much.” She drew in a shuddering breath as she gazed into his eyes. “I love you, Alex. I adore you, in fact, and I hope you can forgive me for hurting you. I hope—”

He kissed her, stealing her words, her breath, and Emmy flung her arms around his neck and kissed him back with all the relief and gratitude and love and joy within her.

Moments later, Alex gently eased away, his gaze sweeping over her face as he gathered her hands in his, stroking his thumbs across her knuckles.

“I’m glad my gift pleased you,” he said, lifting her hand to press a kiss to her new ring. “I bought it for you so you wouldn’t have to wear the Whitcomb ring. I know how you dislike it.”

“But I don’t,” she replied, gazing down at her right hand and the yellow topaz she had once resented. “I did before, but it is a part of who I am now. I am Emmy and I am Mrs. Whitcomb. I can be both.” She looked at him. “I’m proud to be both.”

His eyes warmed, and he cupped her cheek with his palm. “You frightened me, you know. I was afraid you weren’t coming back.”