16. Chapter SixteenEmma
Chapter Sixteen
Emma
I never imagined feeling this calm walking into a board meeting with Lucas Walker.
Yet here we are, striding into the gleaming boardroom together, our presentation polished and our strategy solid. Lucas catches my eye as we arrange our materials, and I glimpse a hint of last night in his smile. The past two weeks have created a rhythm between us that makes it feel like we’ve been partners far longer than fourteen days.
“Ms. Hastings.” Mr. Garrett’s voice slices through my thoughts. “I trust you’re prepared to explain these unconventional methods?”
His tone suggests he’s still not reconciled to our relationship, though he’s been less confrontational since the Brighton legal challenge. The board has reluctantly acknowledged that our united approach is working, even if some members remain skeptical about the personal aspects.
Before I can respond, Lucas steps forward. “Actually, Mr. Garrett, we’ll be presenting together.” His professional tone doesn’t quite hide his pride. “Emma’s ideas are exactly what the company needs right now.”
I feel a surge of confidence at his words. Two weeks ago, I was nervously color-coding reports and practicing technical terms in front of my bathroom mirror. Now, I’m co-presenting major strategies with the CEO and feeling entirely in my element.
“As you can see from the implementation timeline,” I begin, clicking to our first slide, “we’re not just matching Brighton’s technology offerings. We’re leveraging our decade of experience with the Johnsons’ systems to create something uniquely tailored to their needs.”
Lucas seamlessly picks up where I left off, and our hours of preparation and shared meals are paying off. We’ve spent nearly every evening this week refining our approach, alternating between the office and his place, with work sessions that increasingly blend into personal time.
“The custom dashboard integration allows real-time analytics while maintaining the personal touch that originally brought the Johnsons to Walker Enterprises,” he explains, gesturing to the interactive model on screen.
We trade off explaining key points, anticipating each other’s thoughts, and building on each other’s ideas. It’s like our natural rhythm has only grown stronger since admitting our feelings. Where we used to dance around each other, now we move in perfect sync.
“This all sounds very ambitious,” Bradshaw comments, adjusting his glasses skeptically, “but can we deliver on these timelines?”
“Actually,” I pull up our progress charts, drawing confidence from Lucas’s steady presence beside me, “we’re already ahead of schedule. The beta testing on their supply chain division showed a 15% improvement in efficiency just this week.”
“Which is why,” Lucas adds, and I suppress a smile at his ‘about to impress everyone’ expression that I now get to tease him about in private, “we’re proposing to expand the implementation to their other key divisions immediately.”
I’ve grown to love these little moments—the private language we’ve developed, the shared glances that hold entire conversations, and the way certain expressions now have meaning only we understand.
This morning, over coffee at his place, we’d practiced this transition point, with me threatening to poke him if he used what I called his “CEO smolder.”
“The costs alone—” Garrett objects, frowning at the projections.
“Are offset by the projected revenue increases,” I finish, bringing up the next slide. “We’ve run extensive models based on their historical data, which only we have access to. Brighton can’t match this level of customization because they don’t have the relationship history we do.”
“Speaking of relationships,” Lucas smoothly transitions, throwing me a professional glance that still manages to make my pulse quicken, “we’ve maintained daily contact with their department heads, ensuring buy-in at every level. This isn’t just a technology upgrade—it’s a partnership evolution.”
I barely hold back an eye roll. We’d argued about that phrase last night, curled up on his couch, until I’d threatened to start calling it a “friendship upgrade with extra computers” in front of clients. He retaliated by tickling me until I conceded that “partnership evolution” was marginally less terrible than “synergistic relationship enhancement,” his first suggestion.
The board members exchange looks, some thoughtful, others impressed. Even Garrett seems to be running out of objections.
My phone lights up on the table, momentarily distracting me. I glance down to see a text notification from Sophie:
OMG stop making googly eyes at each other IN FRONT OF THE BOARD. Also, my mom’s in full gala mode and wants to know if you’re coming tomorrow night because she needs to warn the fountain. Her words, not mine ??
Heat creeps up my neck as I silence my phone. Lucas catches my eye, that familiar mischievous glint telling me he noticed my blush.
The rest of the presentation flows smoothly, with board members asking increasingly technical questions that suggest they’re taking our approach seriously. When the chairwoman asks about implementation security protocols, I nearly hug her–it’s the kind of question you only ask when you’ve decided to move forward.
“Well,” the chairwoman concludes, tapping her pen against her notepad, “this is certainly thorough. The Johnsons’ initial response has been positive, but they’ll want to see more concrete results before making their final decision.”
“Actually,” Garrett interjects, checking his phone, “Mr. Johnson just requested an informal update at tomorrow night’s charity gala. He wants to discuss the beta test results in person before their board meeting next week.”
My stomach twists with nervous anticipation. The annual Silver Springs Children’s Hospital Gala will be my first public event with Lucas since we started dating. Maintaining professional composure while watching him work the room in a tuxedo? That might require superhuman restraint.
“Perfect,” Lucas says smoothly. “Emma and I can walk him through the latest metrics.”
I shoot him a look. He responds with that half-smile that still makes my knees weak, even now that I’m allowed to kiss it off his face—which I’d done just this morning when he used it over breakfast.
“Very well.” The chairwoman stands, gathering her papers. “We’ll expect a full report after their final decision. And Ms. Hastings?”
“Yes?”
“Perhaps stay away from the fountain this year.”
I resist the urge to groan.
One time. I fell in the fountain ONE TIME, and only because Sophie bet me I couldn’t balance on the edge while reciting market projections. In my defense, I got through three-quarters of the quarterly figures before the splash. And the photos only made it to three department bulletin boards, not the entire company newsletter as rumored.
As the board files out, Lucas moves closer under the pretense of gathering presentation materials. “Don’t worry,” he murmurs, his voice low enough for only me to hear. “I’ll be right beside you. Someone has to be ready for an encore of the Great Fountain Incident of 2022.”
“That was entirely your sister’s fault, and you know it.” But I’m smiling, remembering how he’d jumped in after me without hesitation, ruining his ridiculously expensive suit. “Though you did look pretty dashing, all soaked and outraged.”
“Pretty sure that was the highlight of Garrett’s entire year.” His voice drops lower, making my pulse flutter. “But I kind of like being your disaster prevention specialist.”
“Is that what we’re calling it now? Because I seem to remember you encouraging at least half of my chaos.”
“More like damage control with style.”
Before he can elaborate on exactly what kind of style he means, Garrett clears his throat from the doorway. The moment shatters as we glance up to see him standing there, disapproval radiating from his perfectly pressed suit.
“Mr. Walker? A word about tomorrow’s arrangements?”
Lucas straightens, but not before brushing his fingers across my wrist. “Of course.”
When he returns fifteen minutes later, his expression is a mix of amusement and exasperation. “Garrett’s worried about us maintaining ‘appropriate professional distance’ at the gala. Apparently, the Johnsons’ final decision could hinge on how we present ourselves.”
“So, no stealing you for closet makeout sessions between client conversations?” I tease.
“Tempting, but maybe we save that for after we secure the contract.” He draws me close, the boardroom empty enough now for a moment of privacy. “Though you should know, Mom’s already telling everyone you’re coming as my date. She’s practically giddy.”
“Sophie mentioned. Apparently, she’s warning the fountain.”
“It’s not the fountain I’m worried about.” His thumb traces circles on my hip. “It’s how I’m supposed to focus on impressing clients when you’ll be in whatever designer dress you’ve chosen.”
“Professional distance, Mr. Walker,” I remind him, but I lean into his touch.
“Very professional. Just like how you weren’t staring at me during the entire presentation.”
“I was looking at the slides!”
“The slides weren’t wearing this tie you picked out.”
It’s true. I’d selected this blue tie this morning. I’d held it up against his suit as he was getting dressed, claiming it matched the graphics in our presentation, though I loved how it brought out his eyes.
My phone buzzes with another text from Sophie:
Got the dress you chose from Ava Figaro. Also, try not to look TOO in love during the Johnson update. Garrett might actually explode. ??
“Coming over tonight?” Lucas asks, reading the text over my shoulder. “We can practice maintaining appropriate professional distance.”
His smile promises we’ll do anything but.
“I need to get ready for tomorrow,” I protest weakly.
“I’ll help you prepare. Professionally.”
“You’re impossible.”
“You love it.”
I do. Heaven help me, I really do.
These past two weeks have been a revelation, discovering that the connection we’ve always had translates into every aspect of our relationship. From strategy sessions to quiet moments on the porch swing, from boardroom presentations to shared breakfasts in the early morning light, we fit together in ways I never imagined possible.
“Fine,” I concede. “But only because I need to practice my Johnson metrics presentation.”
“Of course,” he agrees solemnly, though his eyes promise much more than preparation for client meetings. “Strictly business.”
Neither of us believes that for a second. But that’s the beauty of where we are now: the freedom to be both professionals and lovers, colleagues and partners, without choosing between them.
And tomorrow night at the gala, we’ll have our first public test of balancing those roles.
Heaven help us both.