I pass out drinks while the opening credits start, feeling the thrill of anticipation flow through my veins. Our light grey sectional is packed with an eclectic group of people who I've come to know and trust over the past year since I moved to Paradise Bay.
As soon as the first notes of the theme song start playing, a cheer erupts from around the room, scaring Winnie and Fidel's baby, Oliver, who starts crying. This initiates a shift of bodies on the couch, as Will, who's been holding the little one for the past half hour, hands him off to his dad for comfort.
Emma wraps her arms around me and gives me a kiss on the cheek. “Can you believe it? Our book is on TV,” she says with a little grin.
She's been calling itour bookto bug me, but since she’s the one who saved my sorry arse, then gave me a life worth living, I don't mind a bit. When you love someone the way I love her, you want to share everything, even if it's credit for the greatest masterpiece of modern-day fantasy literature. I'm actually starting to understand how John Lennon allowed Yoko Ono to ruin the Beatles. He must've loved her the way I love Emma.
She shushes everyone in the room as soon as the credits finish, even though we both know the chances of us being able to actually hear the show among this crowd are about as likely as her getting into her Emma Scissorhands outfit again.
Two years ago, if you’d have asked me if there wasanypossibility I'd enjoy sharing an experience like this with my family, I would've laughed in your face. But that's because I was with the wrong family. In fact, it was my idea to invite them all tonight. Emma wanted to watch the show alone with me, but there's no way I wanted to deprive everyone else of having this moment. I glance around the room at their happy faces, knowing I made the right choice. Not just today, but back in New York when I decided to move here for the rest of my life. I used to believe so strongly that to avoid disappointment a man could—and should be an island—but that was a load of bollocks. Because a life surrounded by people who you can take care of, and who will take care of you right back, is truly the richest form of existence.
“Come on,” Emma says, tugging on my hand and pulling me onto the ridiculously big, faux fur beanbag chair that she insisted we buy. And, like most things, she was right about it, because it's so damn comfortable, it’s actually where I do most of my writing now.
I'm working on a new series, by the way. I won’t tell you what it’s about because it’s not fair to everyone else out there who is waiting patiently. I do, however, find myself running all my ideas past Emma every morning when we eat breakfast together. I get up early, just so we can have some time together before she's gone for the bulk of each day at the restaurant. I know, I know—I used to make fun of Zach for the very same thing. But once you get it, you really get it.
Speaking of Zach and Kennedy, they’re doing well, and she doesn’t hate me anymore since I let her use me to boost her career (while I was using her to boost Emma’s). We actually stayed with them a few weeks ago when Emma and I were in Avonia, and the four of us had a rather lovely visit.
We also spent a lot of time with Priya and Ivan which was actually quite educational. We got to talking about wolves, and it turns out they’re not loners at all. They’re pack animals. And so am I. Who knew?
Harrison blocks my view of the telly for a split second as he passes baby Clara to me, gently setting her on my lap before handing me the bottle. “There you go, little peanut. You can sit with your famous Uncle Pierce.”
I stare down at the beautiful little girl and say, “Would you like your bottle?”
She reaches out with both hands and grabs it, sticking it greedily into her mouth and making me chuckle.
“Uncle Pierce is going to close your ears and Auntie Emma will shield your eyes on the bad parts, okay? This isn't exactly a child-friendly show.”
Emma smiles up at me for a moment, giving me that look she gets sometimes—it's a mixture of wistfulness and pure bliss, and I've noticed it happening more often when little Clara is around. She turns back to the show, resting her head on my shoulder.
“You know, we should have one of these,” I murmur to her.
“One of what?” Emma asks distractedly.
“A mini us.”
Without looking at me, she says, “Oh, I wouldn’t want to do that unless we were married.”
I stare at her for a moment, then whisper, “In that case, we should do that, too.”
Turning to me slowly, she gives me a look. “Are you proposing to me right now?”
“No. I'm just floating the idea to see if perhaps it interests you. I wouldn’t want to be presumptuous and go out and get a ring without checking with you first.”
Giving me a half grin, she says, “I think this is one situation where you should just feel free to be presumptuous.”
“Thank God, because I’ve been wanting to ask you for months now, but didn’t want to rush you.”
Reaching up with one hand, Emma cups my cheek and draws me in for a lingering kiss. When we finally remember where we are and pull back, I smile down at her, my heart feeling like it’s going to erupt with happiness. “I take it you’re happy about me proposing to propose.”
“Uh, yeah,” she whispers in my ear. “Let’s just say you are going to get so lucky later.”
“How soon do you think we can get these people out of here?”
“At best, two hours.”
“Damn. I don’t know why you insisted on inviting them,” I mutter, tongue in cheek.
A voice calls from the front door, interrupting the moment. “Hello? Is anybody here?”
