Chapter 55
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Emma
“Drinks are on me!” I yelled the second we walked into O’Tally’s—Damien’s recommendation, and the only place within a block that wouldn’t judge us for being loud.
Jennifer whooped behind me.
David pumped a fist in the air.
Kevin startled. His wife cackled. One of the twins dropped a pacifier.
We claimed the big booth near the back, the one with worn green leather and initials carved into the wood from two decades of regulars.
Everyone squeezed in—Kevin’s wife bouncing a twin on her lap, David loosening his tie like he hadn’t taken a full breath in weeks, Jennifer practically vibrating with relief.
Menus were ignored immediately.
A round of beers and ciders hit the table with soft thuds. A plate of pretzel bites followed. Someone ordered nachos. Someone else ordered a second round.
Then, as if choreographed, the noise dimmed.
David lifted his glass first. “To Emma,” he said, voice thick. “The best damn leader any of us could hope for.”
I blinked, startled. The table murmured in agreement. Heat climbed through me.
Jennifer went next, raising her cider. “To the woman who never once let us down.”
My vision blurred.
Kevin swallowed hard, stood, and clinked his glass against mine. “To Emma—who made sure my daughters have a future brighter than mine.” He looked me dead in the eye. “I’ll never forget that.”
His wife nodded fiercely beside him. One twin squealed in agreement. Laughter rippled through the table.
And that was when I realized the tears gathering in my eyes weren’t the kind that burned. Weren’t the kind dragged from stress or terror or exhaustion.
These tears were therapeutic. Bright. Made of relief and joy.
And love—for the people around me, for the company we’d built, for the future we finally had.