Chapter 22 Eric
T he soft clink of silverware and the low hum of conversation fill the Rusty Lantern Pub. A familiar symphony of clattering plates, murmured laughter, and the strum of an acoustic guitar, vibrate through the room. The scent of grilled steak and warm candle wax lingers in the air, wrapping around me like a memory.
I shift from one foot to the other behind the curtain, hands clenched into fists at my sides. It’s been three weeks since Grandpa’s funeral, and three weeks since Emma left. She’s healed now. Huntz is nothing but a bad memory six feet under, but I still haven’t seen her. Not once.
Until now.
I take a quick peek through the gap in the curtain as she steps through the doorway, and my breath catches.
She’s here.
The sight of her slams into me with the force of a thousand memories, knocking the air straight from my lungs. Emma. Whole. Strong. Breathtaking. The last time I saw her, she was limp in my arms, her skin cold and blood-soaked, her heartbeat slipping through my fingers like water. The image still haunts me, creeping in when I least expect it. But now, standing there in the dim glow of the pub, she’s radiant and, most importantly, she’s alive.
My fingers brush the small velvet box tucked inside my pocket, feeling the weight of Grandma Estonia’s ring. Emma thinks she lost it in the river; she doesn’t know Annabelle found it at the hospital, tucked away in a plastic bag with her ruined clothes. I kept it safe, waiting for the moment I could return it to her, the right way.
A waitress guides her toward the front table where my family is already seated. Annabelle welcomes her with a warm hug before pulling out the seat closest to the stage. Emma hesitates before sitting, her fingers nervously tracing patterns along the rim of her glass.
She’s looking for me.
Annabelle told her I left town for a while, so she’s not expecting me tonight. Or maybe she is. Maybe she knows me well enough to sense when I’m near.
I rub my palms against my jeans, the nerves buzzing through me like a live wire. I’ve rehearsed this moment a hundred times, but now that she’s here, everything I planned to say vanishes. The only thing that matters is the way her presence fills the room, and the way my heart pounds like it’s trying to break free from my ribs.
The dim light casts a warm glow over her face as she looks around, her eyes flicking toward the bar, then the front door, then back again, waiting and searching.
Annabelle keeps Emma engaged in conversation, her hands moving animatedly as she talks, but Emma’s eyes keep flicking toward the stage, and toward the empty space where I’m about to make a complete fool of myself. Nerves coil tightly in my gut. I haven't done anything this crazy in a long time, but for her? For Emma? I'd tie myself to Thor and ride blindfolded.
I take a deep breath, push the curtain aside, and move toward center stage, the wooden planks creaking beneath my boots. Every nerve in my body hums as I continue into the spotlight, straight into her line of sight.
And then she sees me.
Her gaze locks onto mine, her lips parting slightly in surprise. Confusion flickers across her face as I approach her table. When I reach the edge, I take off my hat, bend down and place it gently on the table in front of her. She blinks up at me, a slow swirl of recognition lighting up her eyes. Surprise shifts into curiosity, then something softer, something that has my pulse slamming against my ribs.
I step back and nod to the musicians, making the silent request.
One of the guitarists grins and strums a familiar melody, shifting the tempo. Shania’s lyrics blast through the speakers, the bass humming through the wooden floors.
And then, I move my hips.
A grin tugs at the corner of my mouth, wide and reckless, fueled by adrenaline and the sheer insanity of what I’m about to do. Every step toward Emma is a gamble, a leap of faith I can only hope lands me exactly where I want to be—forever by her side.
The energy in the pub shifts, curiosity rippling through the crowd as heads turn, whispers circling like wildfire. I roll my shoulders back and let the music take over, swaying my hips to the beat.
Emma’s eyes go wide, and just like that, the pink flush creeps up her neck, coloring her cheeks. She covers her mouth with her hand, trying—and failing—to suppress a smile.
That’s it. That’s the reaction I wanted.
I move to the buttons of my shirt, popping them open one by one. The fabric parts, revealing my chest, and the moment my ridiculous secret is exposed, Emma loses it.
She bursts out laughing.
A full, breathless, stomach-clutching laugh, that lights up the entire damn room.
The crowd gasps, then the laughter spreads. But I don’t care about them. I only care about her.
I throw in an exaggerated hip thrust, just for good measure, and her laughter turns into something breathless and uncontrollable. She shakes her head, her eyes bright with disbelief and delight.
God, she’s beautiful.
Her laughter breaks through every wall I’ve ever built, every doubt, and every fear. I’d make a fool of myself a thousand times over if it meant seeing that look on her face for the rest of my life.
The pub erupts into cheers as I let the shirt slip off my shoulders and drop to the floor. The neon lights catch on the glitter-covered horse pasties decorating my nipples, and Emma doubles over, gripping the edge of the table as she wheezes.
Success.
Her eyes meet mine, and in them, I see everything I’ve ever wanted.
I move closer, my bare chest catching the flickering candlelight, the heat between us humming like an unspoken promise. Shania’s tune drapes over the room, guiding each deliberate step until nothing exists between us but the soft scent of her perfume.
I jump from the stage and drop to my knees in front of her, taking her hands in mine, the warmth of her skin grounding me.
Emma lifts an eyebrow, her lips quirking. “Should I expect your crotch bedazzled as well?”
A deep chuckle rumbles through me. “I’m sorry, but I draw the line at the pasties.”
Her laughter is soft and teasing, but beneath it, I see the shimmer of emotion in her eyes. Vulnerability, hope, something fragile and strong, all at once.
I swallow hard, my voice thick as I finally say the words I should have said long ago.
“I know I have a lot to make up for, but I want you to know that I’m all in. No more pretending, no more holding back. You… You are it for me, Emma Silver.”
Her breath hitches, her chest rising and falling in an uneven rhythm.
For a moment, we just exist like this—me on my knees, her eyes locked onto mine, and the weight of everything unsaid pressing in around us. Then, she lifts a hand, brushing her fingers along my cheek, her touch so gentle it nearly undoes me.
“Eric,” she whispers, her voice trembling. “You’re absolutely crazy.”
I grin, pressing a soft kiss to the inside of her wrist. “Only for you.”
The pub falls silent, the world narrowing to the space between us. Everyone is watching and waiting, but I don’t care. The only thing that matters is her.
I clear my throat. “Emma Silver, loving you is not just something I do—it’s who I am.” My voice is steady but thick with emotion
She exhales sharply, her lips parting as I hold her gaze.
“You are the pulse in my veins, the calm in my chaos, the dream I never want to wake up from.” I tighten my hold on her hands, my entire soul pouring out. “My heart belongs to you completely. Not just for today or tomorrow, but for every moment of forever. Emma Silver, I love you with every fiber in my body.”
Tears glisten in her eyes, her lips trembling as she swallows thickly.
And then, she gives me everything.
“I love you too, Eric.”
The moment the words leave her mouth, she stands, closing the space between us. Her hands slide into my hair, her lips capturing mine in a soft, deep, and consuming kiss. Her mouth is full of love and forgiveness.
Applause erupts around us, but it fades into the background, lost in the rushing sound of my own heartbeat, and the warmth of her body against mine.
I pull back slightly, resting my forehead against hers. “Will you marry me? Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?” I whisper so quietly that only she can hear.
Reaching into my back pocket, I pull out the velvet box. Flipping it open, I reveal Grandma Estonia’s ring, the one I thought she had lost forever.
Emma gasps, her eyes widening. Tears slip down her cheeks, but they’re happy tears, the kind I want to kiss away for the rest of my life.
I’m not asking her to be my pretend fiancée anymore. I’m asking her to be my everything.
She blinks at me, her lips parting on a breath.
“I will,” she whispers, “but only if you agree to live with me on my ranch. Or should I say… Our ranch?”
My pulse stutters.
“You bought the ranch?” My voice comes out hoarse with disbelief.
A tear slips free, catching in the soft glow of the candlelight. She nods, her lips curving into a smile.
“Yes. With Grandpa’s approval,” she murmurs. “And yes, I’ll marry you.”
Emotion slams into me like a freight train. She didn’t just fight for me. She fought for my family’s legacy, and for the home I thought I had lost.
A lump rises in my throat, my hands shaking as I lift the ring from the velvet box. Slowly, carefully, I slip it onto her finger. Where it belongs.
Emma watches, her breath catching.
“Fits perfectly,” she whispers, her voice cracking.
I nod, because I can’t speak. I can’t find the words to tell her how much this means to me, how much she means to me.
So I do the only thing I can.
I wrap my arms around her and lift her straight from the chair, her feet leaving the floor. She squeals, laughter bursting from her lips as I spin us in a slow, dizzying circle. The pub blurs around us, fading into nothing.
She’s finally mine.