Chapter 16 Nate
NATE
Friday afternoon dragged on in what seemed like an endless round of meetings.
I'd spent the morning with the surgical department, moved directly into a budget review with the finance team, and finished with a conference call about accreditation standards that had tested my patience.
By the time I returned to my office at four thirty, my shoulders ached and my brain felt sluggish.
But such was the life of the dean of medicine.
I loosened my tie and dropped into my desk chair, scanning through the emails that had accumulated over the afternoon.
Most of them could wait until Monday, but a few required brief responses that I typed out quickly, grateful the weekend was finally within reach.
A knock at my door pulled my attention from the screen and I looked up.
Ember stood in the doorway holding a stack of folders with a look of expectation on her face, eyebrows high.
"Sorry to interrupt," she said. "I have the updated schedules for the next month. Figured you'd want to review them before the weekend."
"Come in." I gestured to the small conference table near the window. "Let's go through them together."
She shut the door behind herself and crossed the room to set the folders on the table.
Then she pulled out a chair and sat down.
I joined her, grateful for the excuse to leave my desk and the endless parade of emails behind.
She opened the first folder and pulled out a printed calendar marked with color-coded events.
It was brilliant, the system she'd developed for keeping me organized.
"October's busy," she said, running her finger down the page. "We have the Halloween parade on the twenty-sixth, the toy drive planning meeting on the thirtieth, and three school visits scattered throughout the month."
"Three?" I leaned closer to read the dates. "When did the third one get added?"
"Yesterday. The committee coordinator called while you were in surgery.
Apparently, one of the elementary schools specifically requested us." She smiled. "The principal said her students have been asking about the Lightkeeper since the summer festival."
"That's kinda sweet." I grinned at the idea of kids wanting to know more about us. "What time?"
"Two in the afternoon. I already cleared your schedule for the rest of that day in case the visit runs long."
"You're so organized," I praised, and she sighed softly.
I had to refrain from offering compliments or praise in front of other staff members, so when the words came, they were impactful.
"That's why you pay me." She flipped to the next page. "November's worse. We have the Thanksgiving community meal, two charity auctions, the tree lighting rehearsal, and four media interviews."
There was no anxiousness in her voice, which surprised me.
For weeks she'd been tense whenever cameras or publicity came up, but today she seemed almost resigned to the attention.
"How are you holding up with all of this?" I asked.
"Better than I expected." She leaned back in her chair. "I think I've finally accepted that the spotlight isn't going away until December, so I might as well stop fighting it."
"Seems like you're tackling your demons…" I studied her while she formed a response, but she shifted the conversation back to the schedules.
We continued discussing logistics and confirming dates, and when I noticed a conflict I pulled the pen from my breast pocket and scrawled a note. "I have a family thing this date," I told her, marking off the Saturday after Thanksgiving. "My parents have a tradition."
Ember chuckled and I was confused. She looked up at me with one eyebrow lifted and smirked. "Is that a seven or a one?" she asked, squinting at the number.
"It's a seven."
"It looks nothing remotely close to a seven."
"My handwriting is perfectly legible to those who know how to read it." I defended myself playfully.
"So basically, no one." She laughed. "Didn't they teach penmanship when you were in school?"
"They tried. I was forced into a summer penmanship class when I was nine because my third-grade teacher complained to my parents that she couldn't read my assignments.
" I grimaced at the memory. "Three hours every morning for six weeks, copying sentences in perfect cursive. I hated every minute of it."
"Clearly, it didn't help." Ember slid the calendar back in front of herself, scrutinizing my messy writing.
"The teacher gave up halfway through and told my parents I was a lost cause." I grinned. "My father was furious. Mom just laughed and said at least I'd be a doctor, so no one would expect readable handwriting anyway."
Ember smiled, and I noticed how the expression softened her entire face.
She was so stunning when she smiled.
She could stop traffic.
"What about you?" I asked. "Any childhood traumas involving penmanship?"
"Nothing that dramatic. Though I did fail a spelling test in fifth grade because the teacher couldn't read my cursive and marked everything wrong." She shook her head. "My mother made me rewrite the entire test in print to prove I'd actually spelled the words correctly."
"Did it work?"
"Yes, but I opt for printing everything now, or using a computer."
We fell into easy conversation about books we'd read, movies we'd both seen, places we wanted to travel someday.
She told me about a novel she'd stayed up too late finishing the night before.
I mentioned a documentary I'd watched about deep-sea exploration that had been surprisingly compelling.
I didn't want the moment to end.
These were the things real relationships were built on and it came so easily between us.
Reaching across the table, I took her hand, threading my fingers through hers.
She didn't pull away. Instead, she squeezed back, her thumb brushing across my knuckles.
"Thank you," I said quietly.
"For what?"
"For this. For sitting here talking about nothing important. For making me laugh." I paused. "For being here at all."
She looked down at our joined hands and mumbled, "I'm glad I'm here too."
I stood and walked around the table to where she sat with her head tilted up to look up at me.
When I leaned down and brushed my lips over hers, she responded immediately, her free hand coming up to rest against my chest.
It was risky because we were at work, but it felt like the perfect way to end that moment.
Her eyes stayed closed for a moment after I pulled away.
Then I cupped her face in my hand and traced the line of her lips.
"Are you really alright?" I asked. "With everything that's happened. With the press and the gossip and all of it."
"I'm managing." Ember's eyes averted. She was avoiding the topic, likely because she wasn't really managing well at all. It made my heart sink as I remembered my promise to her.
"I never managed to get you out of the Hearthkeeper role. I promised I'd find a way, and I failed. Now everything has blown up around us, and you're stuck dealing with it."
"I'm not stuck." She placed her hand over mine where it rested against her cheek. "I'm choosing to do this now, Nate. I told you. I know it's an honor. It's okay."
"Is it?"
"Yes." She smiled, but her eyes were sad. "I could've quit weeks ago if I really couldn't handle it, but I'm here."
"Why?" I wondered if she was here because of me or because of the role she was playing.
Either way, it appeared it didn't sit well with her, but she wouldn't admit that to me.
She probably thought she was protecting me from those negative thoughts.
After all, I was surrounded with the public's negativity all the time.
She hesitated, and I saw the internal debate play out across her features.
Whatever she wanted to say remained unspoken. She squeezed my hand and let the moment linger, and then she stood and brushed a kiss to my cheek. "Enjoy your weekend, Nate."
"You too." I released her hand reluctantly as she gathered the folders from the table and walked to the door, pausing on the threshold to look back at me. "See you Monday."
"Monday," I echoed.
Ember left, and I stood alone in my office listening to the sound of her footsteps fading down the hallway.
There was more going on in her mind than she was willing to share and it bothered me.
She was holding back and shielding herself from the pain of vulnerability, and I didn't like it.
It made me feel like I was doing something that made her feel unsafe. I never wanted to do that.
I wanted to know those pieces she was hiding and understand them and make a space for them so she could trust me.
The chemistry between us had always been undeniable. But chemistry faded.
Passion cooled.
Physical attraction, no matter how intense, wasn't enough to sustain a relationship long term, and when all of this started, it'd been nothing more than sheer lust.
But that had changed for me.
What I felt for Ember went deeper than carnal desire now.
It had blossomed into a love that I would never be able to extinguish, so strong, even the worst things she could possibly say or do to me would never quench the flame.
I walked to the window, looking out over the parking lot where a few cars remained scattered across the empty spaces.
Whatever was going on with her, I wanted to help her with it.
I wasn't going to push, but I wasn't going to just let her deal with it alone, either.
She deserved someone to look out for her, and I was that man.
I gathered my things and turned off the lights, locking my office door behind me.
I had a long weekend to put some thought into things and figure out how Ember and I could survive the next three months and put the gossip behind us.
Because one thing I knew was that I didn't want this to end.
I wanted Ember Harrison in my life permanently, but that just meant being delicate and discreet about things for the time being.
After that, it was no holds barred.
And even my father wouldn't change my mind.