Chapter 43 Emma
EMMA
I wake up to warmth. Not the kind that comes from the weight of blankets or the early morning sunlight streaming through the curtains, but the kind that sinks beneath my skin, settling deep in my bones. The kind that whispers you’re safe.
Alex’s arm is draped over my waist, his breath steady against the back of my neck.
His body is solid and tangible against mine, a quiet reassurance that I’m here in this moment with him and my heart is still beating.
The constant feeling I’ve lived with for months—of being one heartbeat away from losing everything isn’t gone, but it’s more manageable now.
I stretch out as I roll onto my back. The sudden movement pulls at my chest, a tightness spreading through my sternum. It’s not pain, not exactly. It’s just a strange, unfamiliar resistance.
My fingers drift down, pushing aside the neckline of my shirt until I see it—the scar.
It runs the entire length of my sternum from top to bottom, pink and slightly raised, a reminder carved into my skin.
The stitches are gone now, leaving behind something that looks like a thin, fragile seam, like I’ve been stitched back together but could still come undone at any moment.
I run my fingertips over it, tracing the path the surgeon’s knife took to save my life. A stranger’s heart beats beneath. It’s a strange thought, to know that someone’s life ending was what saved mine.
It still doesn’t feel real.
I press my palm over my heart, waiting for something like recognition or connection, or the answer to the questions I haven’t even spoken aloud. Whose heart is this? Do they know… wherever they are, that a piece of them still lives? That their heart is keeping me here in this life?
I exhale, letting my hand trail up to my throat, fingers brushing against the cool metal of the locket resting against my skin.
Mom.
I close my eyes. I miss her so much it aches, deeper than my scar, heavier than anything I can carry. What would she think of all this? Of me? Would she be happy with the person I have become?
I can only hope she’s watching over me and is proud.
I glance over just in time to see Alex stirring, his brows furrowing before his eyes flutter open. For a moment, he just looks at me, still half-asleep, messy-haired and gorgeous.
“Morning, Princess.” He mutters low and thick with sleep.
“Morning.”
His gaze drops to where my fingers rest against my chest, over my scar. “Do you feel any different?”
I could lie and say no, but Alex would see right through me.
“It feels strange,” I admit. “Like I’m still trying to figure out how to exist in this body again.”
Alex props himself up one elbow, reaching out to push my hair back from my face. “You’re doing better every day.”
“I know.”
“You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” His fingers trailing along my jaw, down my neck, until they rest above my new-to-me heart. “Every part of you is perfect.”
His lips meet mine, intertwining slow and careful. I press closer, threading my fingers into his hair and tugging slightly. His restraint seems to snap, as if that was the sign he needed to let loose all his need and desire.
His hand slides to my waist, pulling me flush against him. The heat between us builds, deepens, until I’m breathless and my skin hums with the weight of everything we’ve been holding back. His mouth moves to my throat, as his fingers grip my hips and anchor me to him.
I tilt my head back, softly moaning his name, and it nearly undoes him.
But seconds later he stills, forehead pressing against mine. “As much as I want you,” he says, breath ragged and shallow, “you need to rest.”
I pout. “You’re being infuriatingly responsible right now.”
He chuckles, brushing his lips against mine one last time. “One of us has to be.”
I huff, but he’s already rolling out of bed. “You should go to the bar for a bit. Check on the guys.”
He gives me a look. “Em, I don’t—”
“I’m fine, Alex. Really.” I interrupt, reaching for his hand. “You can go for a few hours. I promise, I won’t overdo it.”
He’s clearly reluctant, but knows not to argue with me about it. “Fine. But I’m not staying long.”
“You’re such a worrier.” I tease.
“Yeah,” he says, leaning down to kiss me again before leaving. “And you’re the reason why.”
I kneel on the floor of the studio, paint-splattered overalls clinging to my body, streaks of color staining my fingers.
The canvas in front of me is a swirl of emotion, all deep reds and soft blues, sharp edges and blurred lines.
It’s chaos and calm all at once. A reflection of everything I can’t put into words.
I don’t hear Alex come in, but I feel his presence.
“Jesus.” His deep voice echoes through the small room, knocking me out of my trance.
I glance over my shoulder. He’s standing in the doorway, arms crossed, leaning against the frame. His eyes drink me in.
“What?”
He takes a step closer, shaking his head. “You’re the most beautiful thing in this room.”
My heart stumbles.
“In a room full of art…” He pauses for dramatic effect. “You are the only masterpiece.”
I can feel my cheeks flush as a result of his words.
Alex crosses the room in a few strides, pulling me up gently and admiring me in the silence.
If my change of heart is good for anything, it’s to show me what really matters in life.
The life I had in Manhattan was wild and exhilarating, everything I dreamed about for a long time.
I reached milestones with my career that wouldn’t have been possible elsewhere and I am grateful for that chapter of my story.
But being back in Windhaven has made me realize that this is the life I am meant to live: here in this quiet, sleepy Vermont town, with the boy that would move the heavens and Earth if I asked him to, painting and creating art for myself, not for the money or fame it used to come with.
Alex stands shirtless at the stove, stirring something that smells incredible. I slip up behind him, wrapping my arms around his waist as I rest my cheek against his bare back.
He hums, reaches down to brush his fingers over mine. “You’re clingy today.”
“You love it.”
“I do.”
I grin, pressing a kiss to his spine.
There’s a pause, a shift in the air as Alex sets the spoon down and turns in my arms to face me.
He holds my face in both of his big hands as his thumbs brush over my cheekbones.
His expression is stripped of all the cocky grins and teasing remarks.
It’s just him at this moment, wide open, no walls, no armor.
“I love you, Em.”
He’s said it to me many times now, but this time there is something raw in his voice.
“I’ve loved you in every way a person can love another,” he continues.
“I loved you when we were kids and you were this stubborn, wild thing who never let me win at anything. I loved you when you hated me, rolling your eyes at me constantly and calling me insufferable. When you used to storm out of rooms because I pushed you too hard or got too close.”
His hands slide down to my shoulder, gripping me like he needs me to hear and understand what he has to say.
“I loved you from a distance when you left Windhaven. When I had to watch your life through pictures and headlines and secondhand stories because I didn’t have the privilege of being in it anymore.
I told myself I was fine with that, but I wasn’t.
I missed you every damn day. And when you came back and stood in front of me, just as stubborn and impossible as ever, I knew I was fucked.
Because all that love? It never went anywhere.
It was always here, waiting for you to find your way back. ”
His eyes scan mine, searching my eyes for something I’m not sure I can place.
“And then you got sick. And I–I have never been more terrified in my entire life.” His throat bobs as he swallows hard.
“I thought I was going to lose you before I ever really got to have you. And that nearly destroyed me. I spent every second in the hospital praying, to the universe or whatever God is out there, that if someone had to take your place, it would be me. That if there was a choice between your heart stopping and mine, the universe would take mine every single time.”
Tears sting in my eyes, and I shake my head. Alex keeps going, keeps giving me all of him, every exposed and vulnerable piece of him he’s never given me before.
“I love you, Emiliana,” he says, unshakable, like a confession.
“I love you in ways that don’t make sense, in ways I don’t have words for.
I love you in every breath, in every stupid little argument, in every second of every day.
And I don’t want to waste another moment pretending I could ever survive without you. I can’t.”
His forehead drops to mine in defeat.
“I don’t want a single day where I don’t wake up next to you. Where I don’t hear your smart-ass comments or kiss you goodnight. I don’t want a version of my life that doesn’t have you at the center of it.”
I let out a shaky breath as both hands grip his wrists for stability.
“Let’s move in together. Officially.” He murmurs. “Let’s stop pretending there’s any world or a life where we don’t end up together.”
A tear slips down my cheek, and he catches it with his thumb, brushing it away like he’d erase every bit of pain I’ve ever felt if he could.
“Say yes,” he whispers, his lips brushing mine, “because I swear to God, Emma, there is no universe, no lifetime, no possible reality where I don’t love you or where I don’t spend every second fighting for you.”
I let out a shaky laugh, pressing my forehead harder against his. “Okay.”
His breath stutters. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” I whisper, smiling against his lips. “How could I ever say no to that?”
I’m not as good with my words and talking about my feelings as Alex is.
I learned to live with everything bottled up inside and I am still not in a place where I can express myself as easily and freely as him, but Alex has always accepted me exactly the way I am.
I know that he knows I feel the same way about him and that me agreeing to move in together is the same as a declaration of my love for him.
So when he kisses me, like he’s pouring all of his love into it, I kiss him back, pouring all of mine into him, knowing there was never any other answer.