Chapter 15
THE ANSWER IS ALWAYS YES
HENSON
The answer is always yes.
Amira opens the door, stepping inside first, and I follow, the warmth from the cottage wrapping around me.
I glance around slowly, taking in the familiar, cozy space and faint scent of cedar and florals. There’s a tiny bookshelf in the corner, a coat rack by the door, and the same old fireplace that’s been here longer than either of us.
This place used to feel huge when Worth and I were kids. We’d race from one end to the other, build forts out of couch cushions, fall asleep in our twin beds as our mom read us storybooks. I haven’t been back in years.
Growing up in Nantucket, everything felt simple.
Small town boy, small town life.
Sometimes, I wonder how different things would’ve been if I'd stayed—if I hadn’t moved to a big city to chase the empire Worth and I ended up building. Maybe I wouldn’t be dealing with panic attacks and anxiety. Life would’ve been slower, easier.
But then, I think about what I’ve built in Seattle. The job I love, the sense of purpose, the drive.
I brush the thoughts away.
No point playing what-if with the life I chose, though I still bask in the nostalgia and memories that engulf me.
Amira disappears into the kitchen—unaware of my internal turmoil, her bare feet padding softly against the wood floors. I watch her move and, for a second, I almost forget how complicated all of this is.
She opens a cabinet and rummages around. “You like tea?”
“Sure,” I say, walking over to the fireplace. “What kind?”
“Chamomile.” She lifts the box. “Or… mint.”
I gesture toward the first one. “Chamomile.”
She fills the kettle and sets it on the stove, and while the water heats, I find the old switch for the fireplace and flip it on. The gas ignites with a soft whoosh.
Once the kettle whistles, she pours two mugs, drops in the tea bags, and carries them over to the living room.
Amira sits on the loveseat, wrapping both hands around her cup. I take the couch opposite her, sinking into the cushions and spreading my arms along the backrest.
Her eyes narrow. “What?”
I smirk. “You’re staring.”
“You’re smiling,” she retorts.
I tilt my head, still watching her. “Can’t help it.”
She arches her brow. “Why?”
I take a slow sip of tea.
“Because twenty-four hours ago, I didn’t think I’d be sitting in my childhood home with the woman who’s been living in my head since the second I saw her.”
That throws her. Amira blinks, her fingers tightening ever so slightly around her mug.
Good.
Because she’s thrown me.
Amira doesn’t respond right away, just stares down into her mug.
Then, without looking up, she says, “You know nothing can happen between us, right?”
I simply watch her.
“I mean it. Even though we had sex—”
“Mind-blowing sex,” I cut in smoothly.
Her gaze snaps to mine, and I catch the flicker of a smile before she rolls her eyes.
“Yes, sure. Mind-blowing sex. Still doesn’t change the fact that it can’t happen again. You’re my client, and it would be unprofessional.”
The corner of my mouth tugs upward. “That sounded a lot like a compliment buried in a lecture.”
She exhales, shaking her head, the faintest blush dusting her cheeks.
God, Amira’s stunning when she’s flustered. Even while saying no, her body betrays her.
She tugs a blanket from the arm of the loveseat and drapes it over her lap, retreating into its warmth like armor. I don’t call her on it. I just sip my tea and watch the fire dance.
A few quiet minutes pass.
“Tell me something real,” Amira says suddenly, not looking at me.
I blink. “Like what?”
“I don’t know. Something you wouldn’t tell most people.”
I set my mug down and lean back, running a hand through my hair. “You mean aside from when I spilled my entire emotional backlog on anxiety and fame?”
She laughs softly. But her smile fades a little, replaced by something quieter.
“What’s the story with you and Nantucket? It’s not exactly a quick getaway from Seattle.”
“I grew up here. In this cottage, actually. Worth and I moved to Seattle for the business, but our parents stayed back. My mom always said Nantucket’s the only place that forces everyone to slow down.”
“And you hate that,” Amira guesses, lips twitching.
I smirk. “Not as much as I used to. Lately, I don’t know… things feel different. I’ve worked my ass off to build the life I thought I wanted, but something has been missing. Can’t quite put my finger on it.” I shrug, like that might make the weight feel lighter.
“Wow. Is Mr. Billionaire having an existential crisis?”
That pulls a laugh out of me. “Maybe. I think being home for the first time in years is messing with my tough guy aura.”
“Why has it been so long?” Amira asks, no judgement in her tone.
I run a hand down the back of my neck. “I just got caught up in city life and never made the time. We still saw my parents often, though—we flew them out to Seattle for holidays or whenever they wanted to spend time with Brianna, since she can’t miss school that often.
” I hesitate for half a second, but then let it out.
“I got busy and… I don’t know. I guess I forgot how to press pause. ”
She studies me for a moment, then smiles. “Sounds like you need a companion to remind you to breathe every once in a while.”
I raise a brow. “You volunteering?
Amira laughs, looking away. “Easy, Grinch. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”
I clutch my chest in mock offense. “Not you, too?”
She just grins, clearly enjoying herself.
I lean in slightly, voice low. “For the record, I may be a Grinch… but even he got the girl in the end.”
Amira rolls her eyes. “Yeah, well. That girl isn’t me.”
I grin. “We’ll see about that.”
She opens her mouth, then closes it again.
“You surprise me, Henson Miller.”
“Yeah?”
“You’re not the guy I expected you to be.”
“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”
Her expression softens. “It’s a good thing.”
We fall into silence again, but this one is warmer. More settled.
Amira tucks her knees up under the blanket and sips her tea, her eyes still glancing toward me when she thinks I’m not looking. I don’t press her. I just soak it in.
The fire crackles. The air is still. And for the first time in longer than I want to admit, I feel like I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.