Chapter 40 Emily
It’s Friday, long past the time I should have left for the office. I step out of the shower and wrap myself in a towel. I head back to the bedroom while toweling my hair.
My phone screen lights up on the night table. A missed call. From Andrew.
My heart leaps, thumping erratically. I stare at the notification, barely breathing. I take a steadying breath and hit call back before I can overthink it.
The line rings twice before I hear his achingly familiar voice.
“Hey, Emily,” he says. “How have you been?”
The simplest of questions, but I can barely find my voice. “I’ve been good,” I say, the lie twisting something deep inside me. “You?”
“I’ve been all right.” There’s a pause, and when he speaks again, his voice is softer. “It’s good to hear your voice.”
I’m not sure how to respond.
He clears his throat. “Can you meet me at the Riviera Lakeside?”
My heart stumbles. Pain, sharp and visceral, slices through me. He wants me to see it? The place where he’s altered everything my father held dear, everything that was part of his vision? It feels like a slap.
I manage to swallow past the ache and keep my voice steady. “I’m busy today,” I say, hoping this will put him off.
“Please, Emily,” Andrew says, his voice a quiet plea, and something about the way he says it crumbles my resolve.
I let out a slow breath, reluctant but resigned. “Fine,” I say, the word heavy in my mouth.
We disconnect, and I stand there, staring at the screen, wondering what I’ve agreed to. I’ll have to face him eventually—might as well get it over with.
I step back into the bathroom, running my fingers through my hair and reaching for my brush. My hands move automatically, pulling myself together piece by piece, forcing composure .
After drying my hair, I put on makeup, the familiar ritual calming me. My reflection looks back, more composed than I feel, but the slight tremble in my hand gives me away.
I pick out a simple outfit—a navy skirt and a white blouse, neat and understated. Nothing too formal, but something that gives me a sense of control.
Finally, I slip on my shoes and grab my keys, the thundering of my heart the only sound in the quiet apartment.
As I drive toward the Riviera Lakeside, I can’t stop wondering how it will feel to see him again. To stand in front of him, to look into those familiar eyes that once held such warmth, only to see them cool and distant.
When I finally pull up, the sight of the hotel stops me in my tracks. The building is freshly painted. I step out of the car.
Andrew has kept the same colors—warm, neutral tones that blend with the natural surroundings—but there’s a new vibrancy to the place, a feeling that it’s somehow been reborn.
My father’s hotel, yet different.
Then something catches my eye. My gaze lifts, and I see the name, clear as day, shining above the entrance: The Ace Riviera.
Emotion wells up, thick and uncontrollable, spilling over before I can stop it. Tears blur my vision as I stand there, feeling the enormity of what he’s done, of this gesture I never expected.
Footsteps sound beside me, and then Andrew is there. “I thought it was a good way to honor your father,” he says, his voice soft, filled with a quiet sincerity that reaches me through my tears.
I try to speak, but no words come. All I can do is nod, my throat tight as I swallow back the overwhelming gratitude, the mix of emotions I can’t even begin to name.
“Come on,” he says gently. “I’ll show you inside. There’s no one here this morning—I made sure of that.”
I follow him in, each step hesitant as if I’m afraid to breathe and break the spell of this moment .
The lobby is bright, bathed in morning light, and though everything looks new, the familiar warmth and charm are still here, lovingly preserved.
“It’s beautiful,” I say, my voice trembling. “My father would have loved this.”
We walk through the space together, moving from the lobby to the staircase and then upstairs. He leads me into one of the newly renovated rooms, and I pause, taking it all in.
The room is elegant, understated, with touches of modern style blended seamlessly with the old-world charm my father loved.
The colors are soft and inviting, a mix of deep greens and warm wood tones, accented by tasteful art on the walls that echoes the local landscape. It feels like a place to breathe, a sanctuary that welcomes, without overpowering.
I turn to Andrew, tears filling my eyes again, overwhelmed by the thoughtfulness of it all. “Thank you,” I whisper, my voice breaking.
He looks at me, his gaze intense but softened with an understanding I hadn’t expected.
I walk over to the window, trying to steady myself, looking out at the view of the lake, the gentle ripples on the water somehow mirroring the turbulence inside me.
Andrew comes to stand beside me, close but not quite touching. His voice is quiet, almost hesitant, when he speaks. “How are you, really?”
I inhale deeply. It’s tempting to give a flippant answer but after what he’s done with the hotel, I can’t. “Surviving.”
“I’m sorry about your father,” he says. “I can’t imagine how painful that is.”
I nod. “It was, still is, but, I’m coming to terms with it,” I say. “I was selfish wanting him to hold on. He would have hated to stay in that coma.”
“I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you,” Andrew says quietly.
My chest tightens. “I didn’t give you a chance to be there. ”
“I keep thinking how tough it must have been for you. Balancing your father’s illness with a new marriage,” Andrew says. “At first, when I found out, all I could focus on was that you lied to me. I was only thinking of myself.”
A sob chokes me. I don’t deserve this.
“I wanted to tell you so many times,” I say.
Andrew pulls me into his arms and I throw my hands around his neck, loud, ugly sobs ripping out of me.
“It’s okay, it’s going to be fine,” he croons, holding me tight.
It all comes out in the form of tears. The months of worrying whether my father will come out of the coma. The strain of keeping it a secret. The weeks of missing Andrew.
Needing him to hold me the way he’s holding me now.
Andrew holds me until my crying stops. Then he draws back and keeps one hand around my waist, while he uses the other to gently wipe the tears from my cheeks.
I inhale deeply and try to smile. “Enough about me. How have you been?”
“Not good,” Andrew says. “I miss you, day and night, Emily.”
My insides turn to water. I hoped for forgiveness but this, I never let myself hope, dream that there was a chance for us.
“I’m sorry, for not understanding. For being too harsh. For not seeing things from where you were standing.”
His words pierce through me, and my heart pounds. But I can’t let him take all the blame.
“I should have told you,” I say, my voice raw with emotion. “I’m so sorry for keeping it from you, for letting it all fester in secrecy. I wanted to tell you so many times, but I was caught between loyalty to my father and my love for you. I didn’t know how to bridge that divide.”
Andrew watches me, his gaze unwavering, and then he nods. “That loyalty… it’s exactly why I fell in love with you. And why I want you as my wife for life.” He pauses, and a faint smile touches his lips. “I just wish I’d seen that sooner.”
Giddy joy floods me. A happy laugh rises up my chest but nothing can get past the lump lodged in my throat.
Our lips meet, tentative at first, then deeper, our emotions pouring into the kiss. It’s a kiss that holds both apology and forgiveness, a connection that reaffirms what we nearly lost.
Andrew pulls me close, his hands trailing down my arms, and suddenly we’re caught up in the swell of everything we’ve been holding back, the need to bridge this distance that’s kept us apart.
His touch is familiar, but it feels new, as if we’re rediscovering each other with every movement, with every brush of our skin.
We move toward the bed, shedding the last barriers between us as he lays me down, his gaze warm and filled with an intensity that sends a thrill through me.
His hands are gentle, reverent, exploring, and I’m lost in him, in the moment, in the certainty that whatever we’ve been through, this is where I’m meant to be.
Our breath intertwines, and every kiss, every caress feels like a vow. A promise to let go of the past, to embrace the future together, no matter what it holds.
Afterward, we lie together; his arms wrapped around me, my head resting on his chest. The room is silent except for the sound of our breathing, and for the first time in months, I feel whole, as if the broken pieces have finally come together.
I lift my head, meeting his gaze and Andrew’s hand reaches up, brushing a strand of hair away from my face.
“I love you so much Emily,” he says, his eyes brimming with emotion. “I can’t live without you.”
Tears fill my eyes. Those are the words I’ve been craving, needing from him. “I can’t live without you either.”
We lie on the bed, talking and talking, filling the gaps of the time when we were apart .
Andrew pulls my head down and brushes his lips against mine. “I don’t ever want to go a day without you. Okay?”
I nod. “Okay.”