Chapter 14 New Beginnings
Emilia stepped aside, allowing Henry into the penthouse. As soon as he entered, she turned on her heel, grabbing an empty vase from the kitchen counter. She poured water into it, the sound filling the otherwise quiet space, before placing the bouquet inside. Her fingers trailed over the delicate petals, marveling at the unexpected choice. The flowers were strikingly beautiful—soft ivory blooms intertwined with deep red and vibrant yellow roses. Yet, there was something peculiar about them, something she couldn't quite place.
Her gaze lingered on the yellow roses in particular. Friendship. Joy. New beginnings. That's what they usually symbolized, right? She wondered if Henry had chosen them with that meaning in mind or if it had just been a coincidence. Of all the bouquets he could have picked, he had chosen this one.
A small smile played at her lips. "They're beautiful," she murmured, more to herself than to him.
Henry took the opportunity to glance around her temporary home before his gaze settled back on her. "Did you sleep well?" he asked, voice smooth but laced with genuine curiosity.
Emilia turned, facing him just in time to see the teasing glint in his eye. "I did," she lied effortlessly, an easy smile playing upon her lips. "No dreams, though."
Henry's lips curled into a smirk. "That's funny," he mused, stepping closer. "Because I couldn't sleep at all."
She arched a brow. "Oh?"
He nodded, leaning slightly toward her. "Yeah. You wouldn't stop running around my head all night."
A blush immediately crept up Emilia's neck, but she rolled her eyes playfully, shaking her head at him. "How tragic," she teased, tilting her head. "Should I start paying rent for all the space I'm taking up in there?"
Henry chuckled. "I was thinking of charging you, but then again, having you there is kind of nice."
She scoffed, lightly nudging him as she moved past him. "You're insufferable."
"And yet, you're still here," he pointed out, grinning.
She didn't have a response for that, not one that wouldn't give him even more ammunition, so she simply grabbed her coat. "Come on, let's go."
As they stepped out of the penthouse and made their way to their destination, Henry glanced back at the space they had just left and shook his head with a smirk. "I gotta say, I expected something a little more... you."
Emilia raised a brow. "What's that supposed to mean?"
He shrugged. "It's a bit boyish. Not what I imagined your place would look like."
She laughed, shaking her head. "It's not my place. It's my friend's. I'm just staying there until I find something for myself."
Henry considered her words before a thought crossed his mind. He turned to her with a casual, yet undeniably mischievous smile. "Why don't you just move into mine?"
She blinked, caught off guard. "What?"
He shrugged again, feigning nonchalance. "I mean, I've got plenty of space. And we're getting married eventually, anyway. Makes sense, don't you think?"
She narrowed her eyes, suspicious. "You're up to something."
He placed a hand over his heart, feigning innocence. "Me? Never." Then, with a softer expression, he added, "I just don't like the thought of you staying somewhere temporary. And, well... I'd feel better knowing you're safe."
Her chest tightened slightly at his words, at the genuine concern in his voice. She tried to ignore the warmth spreading in her stomach. "You're very persuasive."
He smirked. "So, that's a yes?"
She laughed. "That's a 'let me think about it.'"
Henry hummed, amused. "I'll take it."
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As Henry maneuvered the car down the coastal road, Emilia leaned back in her seat, gazing out at the ocean waves rolling onto the shore. The morning light spilled through the windshield, casting a golden hue over everything, including Henry's annoyingly handsome smirk as he glanced at her.
"You know," he started, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel, "I was thinking about making peanut butter and banana sandwiches for breakfast, but then I remembered—I'm trying to impress you, and apparently, my fine culinary skills require a bit more effort."
Emilia snorted. "Oh, is that your specialty? Peanut butter and bananas?"
"Absolutely," he said, feigning offense. "It's the perfect combination—sweet, salty, creamy, with a hint of nostalgia. It's basically the food equivalent of a warm hug. But if you let me, I'll cook you real meals for the rest of my life."
She shot him a look, her lips twitching. "That sounds dangerously close to a proposal, Henry."
He shrugged, keeping his eyes on the road, but his smirk deepened. "And what if it was?"
Emilia rolled her eyes but couldn't fight the warmth creeping up her neck. "Well, as tempting as a lifetime supply of peanut butter sandwiches sounds, I might need a little more variety."
"That's the thing," Henry said smoothly, flicking his blinker on as they passed a slow-moving car. "I don't give up easily. If you say no to my cooking, I'll just keep making meals until you can't resist. Every night, something new. Breakfast in bed. Midnight snacks. Surprise dinners. Before you know it, you'll be ruined for anyone else's cooking."
She laughed, shaking her head. "You're really selling yourself, huh?"
"Well, I have to. I mean, I already have monster trucks and a good book in my corner, but a man needs more."
Emilia arched a brow. "Monster trucks?"
"Yeah," Henry said, eyes lighting up. "Have you ever been to a monster truck rally? The power, the noise, the absolute insanity of it all? It's the best. I swear, it's like therapy but with loud engines and crushed cars."
She couldn't help but laugh at the sheer enthusiasm in his voice. "I can't say I've ever had the pleasure. My therapy is a little quieter; painting, reading, maybe seafood by the beach with a glass of wine."
"Okay, see, now that sounds like a perfect evening," he admitted, sparing her a sideways glance. "But I have to ask—what kind of seafood are we talking about? Because if you say something outrageous like anchovies, we might have a problem."
She gasped in mock offense. "Excuse you, anchovies are perfectly fine—"
"—for fish food," he cut in.
Emilia swatted his arm. "Fine, no anchovies. But give me grilled lobster, butter-drenched scallops, or a plate of fresh oysters, and I'm happy."
"Good," Henry nodded approvingly. "Because I'd like to keep you happy."
Her breath hitched slightly, but she masked it with another playful jab. "You're really laying it on thick today, aren't you?"
"I'm just stating facts," he said, turning into the café's parking lot. As he pulled into a spot, he shot her another smirk. "And one more fact—I fully intend to win you over, Emilia. One meal, one monster truck rally, and one book recommendation at a time."
She bit her lip, unable to stop the grin spreading across her face. "I guess we'll see about that."
Henry shut off the engine and leaned over slightly, lowering his voice. "Oh, we will."
Her pulse skipped, but before she could form a comeback, he was already out of the car, rounding to her side to open the door like a proper gentleman—with a cocky grin, of course.
She sighed, stepping out. "You're insufferable."
"And yet, you're still here," he teased, offering her his arm.
She took it with a shake of her head, letting him lead her inside. "For the breakfast, Henry. Strictly for the breakfast."
"Uh-huh," he drawled. "Keep telling yourself that."
She ignored the butterflies in her stomach and let him win this round—just this once.
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The small café was warm and inviting, filled with the scent of fresh pastries and coffee, the low hum of conversation making it feel even cozier. As soon as they were seated, both of them ordered an orange juice, prompting Emilia to arch a brow at Henry.
"I thought you were a coffee guy," she teased, tilting her head.
Henry smirked, leaning back like he had all the time in the world. "I am, but I like to keep you on your toes."
She scoffed. "Oh, so now you're unpredictable?"
"Always have been," he said smoothly, lifting his cup in a mock toast. "You should know that by now."
Emilia snorted, but before she could retort, their drinks arrived, and they took a moment to sip in silence. A few minutes later, after some playful bickering over whether pancakes or waffles were superior (Henry, obviously wrong, argued waffles were undefeated), their food arrived.
Emilia sighed dramatically at the sight of her plate—a fluffy omelet with crispy hash browns on the side. She picked up a fork and declared, "I am a hash brown lover. I think I could live off these."
Henry nodded solemnly. "Noted. If I ever need to bribe you, I'll bring hash browns."
She smirked. "Smart man."
Then, without warning, Henry reached over and snagged a piece of her omelet right off her plate.
Emilia gasped, full of scandal. "Excuse you!"
He chewed leisurely, completely unfazed by her horror. "What? You looked like you were enjoying it so much, I had to see what the hype was about."
"You are officially on my list," she declared, pointing her fork at him.
Henry waggled his brows. "Ooooh, not the list."
She nodded, deadly serious. "The list of people I will never share food with."
He clutched his chest dramatically. "That's harsh. I thought we had something special."
"We did," she said, stabbing another bite of her omelet. "And then you betrayed me."
Henry chuckled, clearly not repentant in the slightest. Instead, he picked up one of his own hash browns and held it out to her like an olive branch. "Truce?"
Emilia eyed him with suspicion before snatching it from his fingers. "Fine. But this does not mean you're forgiven."
"Noted." He grinned, watching her take a bite. "But I'll win you over eventually."
She rolled her eyes, but warmth spread through her chest before she could shove it down. She liked this—their ridiculous back-and-forth, the way Henry always had some mischief up his sleeve. Whether it was dramatically critiquing the texture of a pancake like he was hosting a cooking show, making up wild backstories about the strangers around them ("See that guy in the corner? Definitely a retired jewel thief trying to go straight"), or shamelessly stealing her food, he made everything feel light.
She hadn't realized how much she needed that.
As they waited for the check, Henry leaned back in his chair, finishing his orange juice before glancing at Emilia. "So, what's the rest of your day looking like?" he asked casually, his eyes gleaming with curiosity.
Emilia sighed, stretching her arms above her head with a small groan. "Well, since I'm actually on vacation right now, I'm going apartment hunting. I can't stay at my friend's forever. I need a place of my own."
Henry immediately scoffed, setting his glass down with an exaggerated flourish. "Absolutely not."
She arched a brow at him. "Excuse me?"
"You're not wasting your time looking at tiny, overpriced shoeboxes when I literally have a penthouse sitting empty."
Emilia rolled her eyes. "Oh, come on. I can't just live in your penthouse, Henry. That's ridiculous."
He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table with an easy smirk. "Why not? It's not like I use it. I bought the damn place months ago, and I think I've stepped inside, oh, twice? Maybe?"
She huffed. "That's not the point."
"Then what is?" He tilted his head, eyes dancing with amusement. "You get a gorgeous place, rent-free, and you can decorate it however you want. Knock yourself out—paint a mural of a giant cat on the wall for all I care."
She laughed despite herself. "Tempting, but no."
Henry sighed dramatically, placing a hand over his heart. "You wound me, Emmy. What, is my mansion not good enough for you? Should I install a trampoline room? A private coffee bar? A puppy sanctuary? Name your price, and I'll make it happen."
She pursed her lips, pretending to consider. "A puppy sanctuary does sound nice."
"Done. You move in tomorrow."
She threw up her hands. "I didn't say yes!"
"You didn't say no fast enough," he pointed out smugly.
Emilia groaned, rubbing her temples. "You are impossible."
"And yet, undeniably charming," Henry added with a wink.
She exhaled deeply, staring at him for a long moment before shaking her head with a reluctant smile. "Fine. But if I end up regretting this, I'm painting the kitchen bright pink just to spite you."
He grinned, clearly triumphant. "Make it neon. I dare you."
She laughed, a warm feeling spreading through her chest. Maybe this wasn't such a terrible idea after all.
Emilia sighed, shaking her head. "Alright, but I want to pay rent. I appreciate it, but I can't just live there for free."
Henry leaned in even closer, his voice dropping to a silky murmur. "Em, sweetheart, the only rent I'll accept is your company. Especially since we're getting married someday."
She scoffed, her cheeks heating. "Oh, is that so?"
"Absolutely. I'm just thinking ahead, making sure my future wife is comfortable." His smirk deepened as he watched her fluster.
Before she could fire back, Henry glanced down at his phone. Casually, he tapped a few times, secretly canceling his first two meetings and rescheduling them for 2:30 and 3:30. There was something far more important to do today.
As the check arrived, Henry slid his card into the folder with practiced ease, barely sparing it a glance. His mind was elsewhere—on Emilia, on them. It had only been about two months, but the idea of her moving into the new place had him buzzing with excitement. Not just because it made sense logistically, but because it meant more of this. More sleepy breakfasts where she rolled her eyes at his antics but never actually told him to stop. More late-night conversations where her walls dropped just a little bit more.
He wasn't rushing marriage—he knew better than that. But in his heart, he already knew he wanted to tie her down, to keep her close in the right way, at the right time. He was falling, fast and deep, and instead of being scared, he wanted to keep falling. He wanted to see what their relationship could hold, what they could become when neither of them held back.
The waiter took the check, and Henry turned back to Emilia, his expression playful yet sincere. He could barely contain his excitement as he leaned forward, drumming his fingers against the table.
"So," he said, his grin widening. "Would you like to see your new home?"
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Author's Note:
Dear Readers,
I just want to take a moment to say thank you from the bottom of my heart. The love and support you've shown for this story—despite its little imperfections—means more to me than I can even put into words. Hearing how much you're enjoying the journey, connecting with the characters, and wanting more of this world I've created fills me with so much joy.
I won't lie—sometimes the negativity tries to creep in, but your kindness, encouragement, and excitement remind me why I love writing in the first place. I'm going to try harder to focus on the positive, to keep creating, and to not let the doubt win. Because at the end of the day, knowing that this story brings you happiness makes every single moment worth it.
So, truly, thank you for being here, for believing in me, and for sharing this adventure with me. I appreciate you more than you know.
With all my love and gratitude,
Alexis Crae