Chapter 9 Emily
As I pull up to Andrew’s house, the gate opens automatically and I take a deep breath, the knot of nerves in my stomach tightening. This is it. Moving day.
The moving van follows closely behind me, its rumble barely noticeable over the pounding of my own heart.
Before I can even step out of the car, Bruno and Bear bound out, their tails wagging like crazy. I can’t believe I was frightened of them. They are huge but harmless and friendly. I laugh when they sniff and lick my hands as if I’m a long lost loved one.
Andrew steps forward, giving me a small smile. “Hey, you made it.” He’s dressed casually in jeans and a grey T-shirt, looking far more relaxed than I’ve ever seen him.
“Working from home?”
“I thought you might need some help settling in,” he says with a shrug as if it’s no big deal to be with her, rather than at work where I’m sure he’s needed.
“You didn’t have to,” I say. I can't imagine Daniel would have bothered to show up, let alone help. “But I appreciate it.”
“You’re welcome,” Andrew says, brushing it away.
Warmth settles in my chest. It’s a new experience that I don’t know what to make of. This is so different from what I had with Daniel. Used to a lack of communication, it’s been refreshing to see Andrew’s daily texts – sometimes just checking in.
This last week had been a whirlwind of activities, figuring out what will go to storage and what I’ll bring with me. Then the usual daily disasters at the hotels.
Thank God Barbara was taking care of the wedding arrangements. I feel bad for leaving it all to her, but, then I remind myself that there wasn’t that much to do since plans had been put in place since the early days of planning her wedding to Daniel. The only thing that had been missing was the groom. I can’t wait for this wedding to be over .
“They missed you,” Andrew jokes, gesturing at the dogs, a perfect distraction to break me away from my reverie. A door shutting draws his attention to the moving van. “Let me show the movers where to put everything.”
He opens the front door wider and heads back inside, motioning for the movers to follow. It’s strange to think of this as home, even for a short while.
I follow him inside, and up the stairs, where he directs the movers to a room at the end of the wide hallway.
“Just let me know if there’s anything specific you don’t want in your room,” Andrew says over his shoulder.
“They all go in there,” I say, taking a deep breath and stepping into the space that’s about to become my temporary home.
He shows me to my suite, and I’m blown away. The room is gorgeous, with large windows that overlook the sprawling backyard, the trees swaying gently in the breeze. The bed looks so comfortable I almost want to collapse on it.
I run my hand along the window frame, taking in the view. “This is beautiful.”
“I’m glad you like it,” Andrew says, standing a few feet behind me. There’s a calmness about Andrew. He doesn’t act as if he’s in a rush to be somewhere else.
I turn to him, smiling. “Thank you. For everything. The movers, this room, all of it. I know it’s not easy for you either.” I’ve been so focused on the changes that I have to make, but, it can’t be easy to have to share your home with a relative stranger.
Andrew waves it off with a smile, “It’s no trouble.”
“I’m heading to my parents’ house after this,” I tell him. “I’ll stay there before the wedding.”
Andrew nods, understanding in his expression. “Makes sense.”
“Yeah.”
An uncomfortable silence fills the air before he, thankfully, breaks it. “So, what will you do with your apartment? Keep it or rent it out? ”
“I’m going to renovate it and then sell it,” I reply. “I’ve been wanting to do that for a long time.”
My father’s illness had put a lot of things that I wanted to do on hold.
Andrew nods. “If you need any help with that, let me know. Renovations and real estate are kind of my thing.”
I smile. “I’ll keep that in mind.” But, inside, I know I won’t ask for help.
This arrangement has an expiration date, and the last thing I want is to start depending on Andrew. A year from now, he won’t be in my life. It’s best if I continue doing things the way I always have—on my own.
“I’ll be in my office downstairs if you need me,” he says, before shutting the door behind him.
I begin unpacking a few essentials, trying to settle it all into a new place. It doesn’t take too long. I didn’t bring all that much with me. Once I feel like it’s settled enough to feel comfortable, I turn to leave.
Andrew’s been kind. In ways I didn’t expect. But as much as I appreciate it, I have to keep reminding myself of the boundaries. Downstairs, I head to his office and peer in through the slightly ajar door. He looks up from his laptop.
“I’ll see you on Saturday,” I tell him.
“See you on Saturday,” he says solemnly. “Oh! Before I forget, here are the keys for the house, along with the gate remote.”
I cut across the room. As I take the keys he’s holding out, our fingers brush and a jolt of awareness goes through me. I quickly take the keys and flash him a quick smile.
“Thanks,” I say, a little unsettled by my reaction to his touch. But then it dawns on me that it’s the first time that Andrew and I have ever touched. The tension between us is bound to make things awkward when we come into contact.
I shut the door behind me and head toward the front, where Bruno and Bear are lazily sprawled out. I give them each a quick scratch behind the ears before I step out .
This is really happening. I’m moving out of my apartment, stepping into a life with Andrew—a man I barely know. We’re going to share a home, a life together, for a whole year. It feels surreal, and not in a good way.
The sadness I’ve been trying to suppress all day creeps up on me. I’m getting married for practical reasons. Not for love, not for some magical, romantic connection.
As much as I’d convinced myself that this was the right decision, there’s a hollow ache at the thought of it. How would it feel to be truly in love? To marry a man who loved me, someone I loved back?
The thought lingers, unwanted, and I push it away as quickly as it came. There’s no point in dwelling on what ifs. This marriage is about responsibility, about saving my family’s business.
My family are the most important thing in my life. I’d do anything for them. Even this.
As I pull up to my parents’ house, the familiar comfort of home settles around me, although my thoughts are far from settled.
I park and walk inside, my mind still swirling with feelings I don’t have the energy to process. The house is quiet, and I head straight to my father’s suite.
The door is partially open, and I see my mother inside with the nurse, both of them standing by my father’s bedside. The sight makes my heart clench. My mother looks worried, her brow furrowed as she watches the nurse take Dad’s temperature.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, stepping into the room, my voice laced with panic.
“He’s got a bit of a fever,” my mother says quietly, not looking away from my father. “The doctor said we should keep an eye on him.”
I move closer, feeling a wave of worry rise in my chest. I reach out and touch his forehead—it's warm, too warm. My pulse quickens with fear .
The nurse, sensing my anxiety, offers a calm smile. “He’ll be okay. It’s happened before, and the fever went right back down. We’ll keep monitoring him closely.”
I nod, trying to ease the tension inside me, but it doesn’t work. Seeing my father like this, so still, so vulnerable – it tugs at something deep inside me. I kneel beside his bed and take his hand, squeezing it gently, even though I know he can’t feel it.
“Please be okay,” I murmur.
My mother stands beside me, her eyes filled with the same unspoken worry. We’ve been through so much together, but, moments like this remind me how fragile everything is.
What if he doesn’t make it? What if he never comes out of this coma?
I can’t think like this. I can’t lose hope. I push away all the ‘what ifs’ that seem to haunt me these days. This is what I’m doing it for—my family. And I would do it all over again, no matter how hard it gets.
I lean over and press a soft kiss to my father’s cheek, the warmth of his skin sending another pang of worry through me. But I straighten up, forcing myself to stay strong. He needs me to be strong. We all do.
I step away from the bed and give my mother a reassuring nod. “He’ll be fine,” I say, trying to convince myself, just as much as I’m trying to convince her.
“I hope so,” she whispers, her eyes still focused on my father, worry etched into every line of her face.
The self-indulgent thoughts I had on the way here now seem like a mockery. I don’t need love. What I need is to get married to Andrew and have Bennett Construction come in and save my father’s company. All that matters is for my father to wake up and see his beloved company up and running like normal.