32. Emma
THIRTY-TWO
Emma
ONE YEAR LATER
“Four missed calls from ‘My Man’,” I say when Matt picks up the phone. “Have I gone missing and no one told me?”
“I don’t know what’s more surprising,” he says, “that you never changed my name in your phone or that you’re not itching to get home for the game.”
Between wildfire coverage and the brutal heatwave, the newsroom has barely let me breathe all week. The only thing that’s gotten me through the day has been knowing that, for the first time, I’m two games ahead in our Rummikub competition.
“Never met someone so excited to get their ass kicked,” I tease.
Turns out dating your enemy is a whole lot more fun than hating him. Our ridiculous rivalry only gets more competitive with every adventure we stumble into. Except now it’s even better, because even if I lose, I still win.
“You’re getting too cocky, babe,” Matt counters. “Might be time to win a couple more games to knock you off that high horse.”
I snort.
“You know better than to let me win, Matthew.”
“Do I, though?” he sings. “I miss you. How long until you’re home?”
After leaving Golden, I enjoyed exactly five days of unemployment before my contract with the L.A. Times started. As it happens, the interview they called me in for was in fact not about my article going viral.
“Sounds like you’ve had a pretty boring day off,” I say, earning a deep, slow grumble. “Don’t fret. I’m turning onto our street now.”
Matt’s halfway through filming What We Carry, expected to rack up award nominations. He, meanwhile, seems completely unfazed, as if he was born to do this.
I’ve shadowed on set a couple of times, strictly in a girlfriend capacity, and if the praise he’s been receiving isn’t enough confirmation of how talented he is, the size of the bedroom in his new trailer definitely is.
“My patience is always thin when it comes to you,” he says.
I pull up in front of the metal gate and watch as he strolls out of the front door in nothing but a pair of black gym shorts.
Phew.
That view never gets old.
“You’re looking well rested, Mr. Hunt,” I say before hanging up.
Matt waits until I’ve parked before opening my car door, a habit he’s insisted on ever since forcing me to install them again.
“I needed all the energy I could muster to deal with you tonight.”
He smirks, hands reaching around my waist, and lifts me effortlessly from the seat. My fingers slip into his hair as I rise onto my toes to kiss him.
“We only have about an hour until Julia and Harrison get here,” I murmur against his lips.
“Plenty of time for our game,” Matt says, threading his fingers through mine as he leads me inside. “Go change into your overalls. I’ll get some snacks ready.”
I roll my eyes.
“Are they a requirement?”
“Do you even have to ask, Mills?” he counters, slapping my ass as I walk past.
“It’s not going to matter because you’re not gonna win!” I call from the bedroom.
Our little competition has become my favorite part of the week. I change out of my work clothes at superhuman speed and hurry downstairs to meet him in the garden.
Matt’s put on his cream-colored linen shirt. No distractions allowed. He’s sprinkling some olives over a plate of chips. Ben introduced us to the Spanish delicacy, and we’ve been obsessed ever since.
“Set us up,” he says, handing me the blue box.
I settle into my chair across from him and scatter the tiles all over the table. Today’s my chance. With a little luck on the first draw, I’ll have this in the bag.
One by one, I flip them around when—
“What’s this?” I pick up the tile with a large ‘A’ written on the back of it.
Matt shrugs, but the grin tugging at the corner of his mouth gives him away.
I swear, if he’s trying to sabotage my winning streak…
More letters appear as I keep turning over the tiles.
Two Rs, an E, a question mark, an M.
My pulse stutters.
There’s no way.
With trembling fingers, I gather the tiles and rearrange them in order.
Marry me?
When I look up, Matt’s down on one knee.
A black velvet box rests in his hand, open to reveal the most beautiful ring I’ve ever seen.
“Matthew,” I breathe.
My hands are shaking so hard I have to curl them into fists. I don’t know whether I want to scream, cry, or laugh. This infuriatingly charming, utterly frustrating man is actually asking me to marry him.
“Mills,” Matt says, his voice cracking. “It’s always been you. Since that forced handshake all those years ago, I just knew.”
“You’ve always made me want to be better, you still do. Every day. You make me braver. Kinder. You keep me honest. You make everywhere feel like home.”
A tear rolls down my cheek, and I wipe it away quickly.
“I hate you so much,” I mumble.
He laughs softly and takes my hand, his thumb brushing over my knuckles.
“I really hope you don’t,” he says with a grin, “because I want to spend the rest of my life with you.
I shake my head in disbelief.
“This ring has been sitting in the back of my closet for a long time. I wanted to make sure you were ready.” He lets out a quiet breath. “Honestly, I can’t wait another day to call you my wife.”
“Matthew, I’m literally your biggest headache.”
“You’re my biggest blessing,” Matt answers.
He pulls the ring out of the box and holds it between us.
“Let me spend the rest of my life taking care of you. Mills, will you marry me?”
I nod before I can even find my voice.
“Yes!” I laugh. “Of course I’ll marry you.”
Am I dreaming?
He slips the ring onto my finger, and I’m kissing him before I even realized I’ve moved to straddle him. I tug gently on his bottom lip, and his groans melt into my mouth.
“Tell me the truth,” I whisper as I kiss my way up to his ear. “It was the torture tools, right?”
A laugh rumbles from deep in his chest.
His hand comes up to cradle my cheek, eyes shining brighter than the afternoon sun.
“Yes,” he says with a completely straight face. “These overalls, honey.”
Matt smiles.
“I’ll never get enough.”