Chapter 74 A Love Worth Choosing
The drive home was quiet at first, thick with unspoken words. The low hum of the tires against the pavement filled the silence between them, and though Emilia kept her gaze trained on the blurred city lights outside the window, she could feel Henry's tension like a storm brewing beside her. His hands gripped the wheel tighter than usual, his jaw locked, a muscle feathering with each tick of his temper.
She knew why. And she understood it.
Still, it had to be said.
Henry inhaled through his nose, exhaling slowly like he was measuring his patience. "I'm not mad."
She turned her head, finally looking at him. "Henry."
His grip on the wheel flexed, and he let out a short, humorless chuckle. "Alright, maybe I am. Not at you, just—" He shook his head, eyes fixed on the road. "You called Beau first. You called dad first. And then me."
There it was. The hurt threaded beneath the words, unspoken but not unnoticed.
Emilia reached over, resting a gentle hand on his forearm. "It wasn't about who I trust most. I didn't want you to worry."
He glanced at her then, just for a second, before returning his focus ahead. "That's not how this works, Em. You don't get to protect me from worrying. That's not love. That's shutting me out."
His words settled deep, not as an accusation, but a truth. A quiet, unshakable truth that made her stomach tighten. It wasn't just what he said—it was how he said it. Like he had been here before, on the outside, waiting to be let in. And suddenly, she saw it—not just his frustration, but his fear. The fear of being left out of the moments that mattered. The fear of her choosing solitude over him.
The thought made her chest ache. She had spent so long trying to be strong, to handle things on her own, but wasn't love supposed to be the safe place where she didn't have to?
She squeezed his arm, rubbing her thumb in slow circles against his skin. "I wasn't trying to shut you out."
Henry sighed, his posture softening just a fraction. "I know. But I need you to let me be there for you. Not after you've called everyone else. Not after you've already gone through it alone."
Emilia's throat tightened. He wasn't angry for the sake of pride. He was hurt because he loved her—because he wanted to be her first call, the one she turned to without hesitation.
She swallowed past the lump in her throat. "I'm sorry."
Henry finally looked at her, really looked at her, his dark eyes warm even in the dim car interior. He lifted one hand from the wheel, reaching for her, his fingers threading through hers like a silent promise. "Just promise me, next time, you call me first."
She nodded, squeezing his hand. "Okay."
The tension in the car lifted, the weight of misunderstanding replaced with something lighter. Henry brought her hand to his lips, pressing a slow kiss against her knuckles, and her chest ached with how much she loved this man.
Emilia's lips curved, her heart full. "I love you too."
And just like that, they were okay again—because love wasn't about never stumbling. It was about choosing each other, again and again, no matter what.
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A comfortable silence settled over them, but it didn't last long before Henry glanced at her with a small smirk. "So, about this wedding..."
Emilia's eyes lit up. "Oh? You ready to pick a date?"
Henry chuckled, giving her hand a squeeze. "I think it's about time. What do you think?"
She tilted her head, pretending to consider. "Spring wedding? Or maybe early summer?"
Emilia blinked, caught off guard by how well he remembered. She hadn't even mentioned that yet. Her heart squeezed, warmth flooding her chest. For so long, she had held those memories close, a piece of her childhood she rarely shared. And yet, Henry had seen her—really seen her.
Henry squeezed her hand. "Of course I do. If it's your favorite season, it should be the season we start forever."
Emilia grinned, emotion thick in her throat. "And lots of warm colors."
He laughed. "I had a feeling that would be your favorite part."
He lifted their joined hands again, pressing another lingering kiss to the back of hers. "Fall it is then."
By the time they pulled up to the Kingsley mansion, the decision was made. The date wasn't set in stone yet, but the season was, and that was enough to make Emilia's heart flutter with excitement.
She leaned into his touch. "We really are."
Henry smiled, his thumb tracing over her cheek. "Then let's make it everything we've ever wanted."
Emilia beamed, her heart swelling. "Together."
He nodded, leaning in to kiss her softly, sealing their decision with love.
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As they stepped inside the mansion, the quiet warmth of home surrounded them. Henry slipped his arms around Emilia from behind, nuzzling into the crook of her neck. "You hungry?" he murmured against her skin.
She hummed in amusement. "You offering to cook for me?"
Emilia laughed, looping her arms around his neck. "World-famous, huh? That's a bold claim."
He leaned in, brushing his lips over hers in a teasing graze. "Only the best for my fiancée."
The word sent a delicious thrill down her spine. "I like the sound of that."
Henry smirked, tugging her toward the kitchen. "Then let's celebrate. A little midnight snack, just us."
She hopped up onto the counter as he moved around the kitchen, pulling out bread, peanut butter, and bananas with an ease that made her heart squeeze. This was Henry—steady, loving, hers.
As he sliced the banana, he shot her a look. "So, how big are we talking for this wedding cake?"
Emilia grinned. "Huge. Towering. A masterpiece."
Henry arched a brow. "You planning on feeding an army?"
He smirked. "What if I just feed you cake by hand?"
Her breath hitched, but she played along. "Romantic. But messy."
Henry leaned in, his hands bracketing her on the counter. "I don't mind getting a little messy."
Emilia's pulse skipped, and she bit her lip. "You're flirting with me over sandwiches."
She chewed, swallowing before smiling up at him. "I really do."
He kissed her again, slow and deep, and in that moment, the world beyond their little kitchen didn't matter. They had each other. And they had forever.
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The Kingsleys never did anything halfway, and their engagement party was no exception. The restaurant, one of the many owned by the family, had been transformed into an elegant yet intimate space. The scent of rosemary and slow-roasted lamb filled the air, mingling with the sweetness of vanilla from the towering cake at the center of the room. A string quartet played in the background, their notes weaving seamlessly with the low hum of conversation and the occasional burst of laughter.
Emilia stood in front of the mirror, smoothing down the fabric of her dress. The deep emerald silk cascaded down her body like liquid elegance, the cool fabric a stark contrast to the warmth curling low in her stomach. The fitted bodice accentuated her waist, while the off-the-shoulder sleeves added a touch of timeless romance. Delicate embroidery shimmered under the light, subtle golden threads weaving intricate patterns across the fabric, as if the stars themselves had been stitched into the dress. The thigh-high slit revealed just a hint of leg, teasing but never too much, and when she moved, the gown followed like a second skin, made just for her.
Henry came up behind her, resting his hands lightly on her shoulders. "You look stunning," he murmured, pressing a kiss to the side of her head.
She met his gaze in the mirror, a soft smile playing on her lips. "You clean up pretty well yourself."
And he did. His tailored charcoal suit fit him like a dream, sculpting his broad shoulders and lean frame. The crisp white dress shirt beneath was open at the collar just enough to give him an effortless kind of charm, but what truly made Emilia's heart skip was the pair of cufflinks at his wrists—small silver octopuses, the very ones she had made for him. He caught her staring and smirked.
She bit her lip. "Very much."
Henry leaned in, his lips grazing the shell of her ear. "Maybe we should ditch the party for a bit. Ten minutes? Maybe fifteen?" His voice was thick with suggestion, his hands sliding down to rest at her waist.
Emilia laughed, swatting his chest. "Behave. We have guests waiting."
He sighed dramatically. "Fine. But just so you know, you look so good it's physically painful."
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As they arrived at the restaurant, a chorus of cheers and applause greeted them. Henry's parents, along with Emilia's aunt Rose and uncle, were waiting at the entrance, beaming with pride. Linda, of course, had outdone herself, inviting not just family but everyone Emilia worked with at the hospital—Claire Robbins, Yanique Woods, even her closest friends Travis, Annie, and Liam. Seeing all of them there made her heart swell.
The evening was a blur of warm hugs, clinking glasses, and excited chatter.
At one point, Emilia finally got the chance to introduce Henry to her friends. "Okay, okay, everyone, this is Henry," she announced as they gathered around. "Henry, meet Travis, Annie, and Liam."
Travis eyed Henry up and down with mock suspicion, arms crossed. "So you're the guy, huh? The one who managed to lock down our Emilia."
Henry grinned. "Guilty as charged."
Liam nodded slowly. "You sure you're good enough for her? Because we're prepared to make this very difficult for you."
Henry smirked. "Oh, I fully expect it. But I promise, no one loves her more than I do."
Annie, meanwhile, was blatantly gawking. "Seriously, Em? First the hot college boy phase, and now you land yourself a literal dreamboat? Some people just have all the luck."
Emilia laughed, shaking her head. "What can I say? I have good taste."
Travis finally broke, chuckling as he clapped Henry on the shoulder. "Alright, alright, he's cool. But we'll be keeping an eye on you."
Henry nodded solemnly. "As you should."
From that moment, the party took on a more relaxed, lively energy. Music played, drinks flowed, and laughter filled the air. At one point, Henry's father pulled Emilia onto the dance floor, twirling her around like she was already part of the family. Linda fussed over Henry's suit, adjusting his tie despite his playful protests. Meanwhile, Claire and Yanique teamed up to corner Henry with wedding planning suggestions, overwhelming him in the best way.
Just as Henry was refilling his drink, his Aunt Jane sidled up next to him with a mischievous glint in her eye.
Emilia, overhearing, nearly choked on her champagne. "Oh, I need to see this."
Henry groaned, rubbing his temples. "Aunt Jane, please, I beg you."
Jane merely winked. "I'll send it to Emilia as an early wedding present."
Emilia beamed. "You're officially my favorite person here."
Henry sighed dramatically. "This is the worst betrayal."
The group burst into laughter, and with that, the night carried on, full of warmth, love, and endless teasing.
At the center of it all was Emilia, glowing with happiness. She caught Henry's eye from across the room, and he sent her a wink that made her heart skip a beat. This was it—their people, their love, their life starting together in the best way possible.
Later that evening, at their engagement party, amidst the laughter and clinking glasses, Henry found her again, this time by the balcony. She stood with her arms resting on the railing, gazing out at the city lights, her dress shimmering in the glow. He stepped behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist, pressing a kiss to her shoulder.
She leaned into him. "Just taking it all in. Tonight's been... perfect."
He turned her gently, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "You're perfect."
She rolled her eyes playfully. "That's just the champagne talking."
He chuckled, shaking his head. "No, that's just me, hopelessly in love with my fiancée."
Her heart melted, and she cupped his face, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. "Good thing I'm hopelessly in love with you, too."
With the city lights glowing behind them and the sound of laughter and music drifting from inside, Emilia knew—this was the start of forever.