I shake my head, clearing the fog. “Not at all. You are cut out for this type of business ownership. You will do amazing things here. Matchmaking, yes, I was doubtful. But this… This was meant for you, Janie.”
More tears spill from her eyes and she hugs me. I hold her tight. She feels fragile in my arms, but oh so warm and soft. Against my ear, she whispers, “Thank you, Knightley.”
He goes over paperwork with her, and I review it to make sure there are no loopholes in the contracts. It’s not that I don’t trust Mr. Sam, but I want to protect Emma Jane at all costs.
After thirty minutes or so, I’m escorting her out of her new building and saying goodbye to Mr. Sam. Once he drives off, we look at each other and laugh.
“I can’t believe I own Books and Beans now.” Her incredulous expression is adorable, and without thinking, I lift her into my arms and spin her around. When I lower her to the ground, she doesn’t release her arms from around my neck, so I don’t drop my hands from her hips.
We stare into each other’s eyes, and it’s as if we are asking a million questions.
Is this okay?
Do you feel the same way?
Can we do this?
Is this weird?
Yes. Yes. Yes. And no.
In fact, it’s anything but weird. She is fresh air and a feisty spirit to my calm and collected one.
I’m pulled toward her lips as if an invisible string is tugging us together, but right before I make contact, she steps away.
“Knightley, there are things you don’t know.”
“Like what?”
She takes my hand, and I thread my fingers between hers, following her as she leads us down the sidewalk. She doesn’t talk until we turn off the main road and head toward one of the town’s little nature trails.
We arrive at a bench, and she drops my hand and sits. “I can’t get married,Knightley. I—”
I take her hand, cupping it between both of mine. She pegs me with a sharp stare, then casts her gaze down to her black boots. “Tell me, Janie.”
“I have PCOS. My mother had it, too, apparently. I was having a flare that day you came into my room thinking I was sick. I most likely can’t have kids. Even if I did get pregnant, it would be high risk. So I can’t get married because I can’t give a man children. Plus, there’s my father.”
My thumb mindlessly sweeps against the underside of her wrist as I process her words. The wind picks up, and she shivers. I curse under my breath, wishing I had a jacket with me. Instead, I wrap my arms around her, acting as a shield against the wind. She smells of sweetness and…
Home.
Forget the jacket. This is a thousand times better. She leans her head against my shoulder, her shoulders rising and falling with light sobs.
When she finally sits back and looks at me with her tearful eyes, I bring my hand to her cheek. “Janie, do not associate your marital worth with your childbearing capabilities.”
She nods her head, but she’s still not smiling.
“Why are you just now telling me this?” I ask.
Her glistening gray eyes flick to my lips, and it takes everything within me not to kiss her. Now is not the time. Not when she’s feeling so invaluable.
“Knightley,” her eyes move back up my face, “do you—” She pauses, releasing a sigh. “Do you think—”
She shakes her head, alaugh of disbelief passing through her lips.
I hook my finger under her chin, forcing her to meet my gaze. “Emma, I want you to know that you are the most precious woman in my life. Any man would be a fool to not want to marry you if that is something you choose to do.”
“Including you?” she asks, and I nod, not trusting myself to speak.
