But Portia shook her head. “He wants to see you,” she told him, gesturing for him to join her in the room. “Both of you should come in.”
Emerson seemed to relax a little at that, taking my hand. I gave it a firm squeeze and then tugged him towards the hospital room. I knew he was nervous about talking to his dad, but I also knew that it was something he needed to do.
He took a deep breath and we headed in.
I didn’t know what to expect, but there wasn’t much I could have done to prepare myself to see Henry Hayes, one of the richest men in Chicago, who I had only seen in moments of vitality and strength, looking tired and old in a hospital bed.
Emerson squeezed my hand, and I could only imagine how hard it was for him. This was his father, and despite their contentious relationship, there was no doubt in my mind that Emerson loved his father. Just as I knew that Henry loved Emerson.
But both of them were stubborn. That was evident in the way they both set their jaw as Emerson entered the room. It would have been humorous if not for the circumstances, since they could have been mirror images of each other—both a portrait of discomfort and awkwardness.
“Dad,” Emerson started, the term seeming to slip out of his mouth, instead of the more formal “father,” which is what I knew he usually used.
I could see it soften Henry, just a little.
“I’m glad you came,” Henry said, and it was shocking at how small and quiet his voice was. He cleared his throat. “It’s good to see you.”
Emerson squeezed my hand again.
“Good to see you too,” Emerson said. “The doctor said it was just a false alarm. That you were very lucky.”
“We’ll see how lucky I feel when your mother refuses to let me order steak anymore,” Henry grumbled, looking a little like a petulant child instead of one of the most powerful men in Chicago. It did a lot to humanize him, and I found that I wasn’t quite as scared of him anymore.
“You’ll survive,” Portia told him, her voice sharp, but her gaze warm and loving. Then she was the one who cleared her throat, giving Henry a pointed look.
He looked down, clearly uncomfortable.
“Your father wanted to say something to you,” Portia prompted, when it became evident that Henry was continuing to be stubborn.
“I wanted to apologize,” Henry finally said, his voice gruff. “I might have overstepped the other night at the gala.”
Emerson’s eyebrows went up, but he didn’t say anything.
“You might have?” Portia asked.
Obviously they had discussed Henry’s apology, and Portia was going to do everything to make sure he did it justice.
“I overstepped,” Henry amended. “I know that you and I don’t see eye to eye on your future, and I still maintain that you could be doing more with your intelligence and your talents and your connections.”
I felt Emerson tense beside me and for a moment I thought that this was going to go very, very badly, perhaps ending in another fight that could lead to Henry having an actual heart attack, but then Portia slapped Henry’s hand.
“But I’m very proud of you,” Henry said quickly, almost in one breath.
The tension seemed to leave Emerson’s body.
“Thanks, Dad,” he said, his voice tight.
Portia’s eyes were shining, and I could tell that everyone was on the verge of emotions that they weren’t entirely comfortable with.
“Maybe we should give your mother and father a moment together,” I suggested. “We can send Hayley in next.”
Henry gave me an appreciative nod.
“I’m sorry,” he said, before we left. “I never should have tried to get involved in your relationship with my son.”
“I know you’re just doing what you think is best for him,” I told him. “But you should know that Emerson already knows what’s best for him. Come to the bar when you recover and you’ll see that.”
Henry nodded. “I’ll do that,” he said.
We exited and sent Hayley in to see her dad. Once we were alone in the hallway, Emerson seemed to collapse into one of the plastic, drilled-to-the-floor hospital chairs. He buried his face in his hands as I sat down next to him and put my own hand on his knee.
“I was so scared,” he told me after a few moments of silence. His voice was muffled behind his hands, but I could hear that he was doing his best to keep it together. “When Hayley called me, I thought that this was it. That I had lost him. That he was gone and the last thing we’d said to each other had been words of anger. I would never have a chance to have a relationship with him.”
He looked up at me and took my hands. “Thank you for coming with me,” he said. “I don’t know if I could have done this without you.”
I kissed him. “I’m really glad you and your dad spoke,” I told him.
He let out a breath. “Yeah.” He ran a hand through his hair and let out a begrudging laugh. “Who would have thought he would ever apologize?”
“Health scares will do that to people,” I told him. “Maybe things will change from now on. For the better.”
“Well, they couldn’t have gotten any worse,” Emerson joked before his expression became serious again. “But thank you for coming with me.”
“Of course.” I took his hand. “You know I’m here for you.”
“About that,” he said, facing me. “We never really got a chance to talk after last night. About us.”
“What about us?” I asked, feeling unduly nervous.
“I meant what I said to my sister. That I don’t want anything like what happened at the gala to happen again. I don’t want to lose you,” he said, his eyes focused and intense. “I love you.”
“I love you too.” I relaxed. “And I’m here.”
“So we’re good?” he wanted to know.
“We’re more than good,” I confirmed. “We’re great. We’re together.”
He took my face in his hands and kissed me. I could kiss him forever, I realized. I could lose myself in him completely. And I wanted to. I had never experienced that before. Then I remembered that I had something important to share with him. Something that I had wanted to tell him about the minute it had happened, but had been unable to because we were apart.
“I got the job,” I told him. “The associates position at the firm.”
Emerson’s eyes got wide.
“What? Really?” he asked, grabbing my shoulders.
I nodded. “Really.”
“That’s incredible!” He kissed me. “I knew you would.”
“You did?” I teased. “Then why didn’t you tell me? I was nervous sick over it for months.”
He kissed me again. “I’m so proud of you,” he told me. “When did you find out?”
“A few days ago, actually,” I explained. “I wanted to call you. I wanted to tell you. Actually, you were the first person I wanted to tell.”
“I’m sorry you felt like you couldn’t,” he apologized. “Did you get a chance to celebrate?”
I shook my head. “Not really.” I squeezed his hand. “But it’s not important. Not with everything that’s going on right now.”
Emerson gaped at me. “Not important? Oh no, that cannot stand. We are celebrating, and we are celebrating in style. After all, it’s not every day that the girl of your dreams gets the job of her dreams.”
I blushed. I didn’t think I would ever get over knowing that I was the girl of Emerson’s dreams.
“Besides.” He wrapped his arms around me. “I’m pretty sure that the one thing that my father and I agree on is that you’re one hell of a woman. And he would be very disappointed if I didn’t show you exactly how amazing you are.”
We stayed at the hospital until visiting hours were up. By then, both Emerson and I were exhausted. He still smelled vaguely of fish from the camping trip, and I was still sans underwear and bra, which had been a fun and sexy thing last night, but today was becoming increasingly uncomfortable.
By the time we left Hayley and Portia, I was half convinced that Emerson would have forgotten his promise to celebrate tonight—and I honestly wouldn’t have minded. Because a night with him—whether it was out on the town or cozying up in bed—sounded like my idea of heaven.
But as soon as we got in the car, it became clear that a night of celebrating was still on Emerson’s mind.
“Why don’t we stop at your place. We can shower—I have a change of clothes downstairs in the bar—and then we’ll go out and properly celebrate your momentous occasion.” He winked at me. “With champagne.”
How could I say no? Just looking at him, his excitement, his joy, made my exhaustion melt away. I’d go anywhere with him. Any time. Any place.
We shared the shower. It was wet and slippery and very, very cramped in my tiny bathroom, but we took our time, washing each other clean . . . as well as indulging in some very, very dirty, fun activities. The water was cold by the time we got out, but it didn’t matter. Just a single look from Emerson could warm me up right away.
As he headed downstairs to change, I addressed my closet. My hand automatically went to my little black dress, my go-to for all things formal and fancy. But tonight felt like it deserved something different. Something a little less stuffy.
There was a red dress I had bought right after getting the job at the firm. It had been a reward, a splurge after knowing that I would have a steady paycheck for the upcoming future. But I had never worn it. Because it was a beautiful dress, but it was too bright and too short and too sexy for anything work-related. And since my life had become solely work-related, it had been regulated to the back of my closet.
Until tonight. Tonight it was going to get it’s moment to shine.
I slipped it on, pairing it with some extremely sparkly and dramatic earrings and equally fun, sexy heels. The dress was tighter than I remembered, but it looked good. I looked good. I looked hot.