We don't need a signed agreement to justify our feelings for each other. I don't care. Not about Whitmore or the Blake cousins. How we fell for each other doesn't matter. Only that we did within thirty days of the reading of Violet's Will.
The beginning doesn't matter.
I need to tell Emmy tonight.
I arriveat her apartment carrying Thai takeout. She opens the door wearing leggings and my Columbia sweatshirt, which she 'borrowed' but clearly has no intention of returning, her hair piled in a messy bun. Her laptop sits open on the coffee table, manuscript visible.
"You brought pad thai. You're officially my favorite person." She rises on tiptoes to kiss me hello, and we settle on her couch, her feet in my lap as we eat.
This easy intimacy terrifies and comforts me simultaneously. It's everything I want, everything I need to protect.
"We need to talk about something."
Her face changes instantly. "That's never a good opening."
I explain about Graham Whitmore, the cousins, and the motion. She sets down her food, processing. "He thinks we're committing fraud."
"Are we? Technically?"
"No. We're in a relationship."
"That started as fake." She stands, fingers running through her hair. "Maybe we should just tell the truth. Let Graham contest it properly. I don't want you to lose your career because of me."
I rise, stopping her nervous movement with my hands on her shoulders. "Listen to me carefully. Wearein a relationship. That's not a lie. It doesn't matter how it started. What matters is what it is now."
"But if he finds out?—"
"He won't. There's nothing to find. The contract, our contract, is shredded. Our texts are genuine. Legally, we haven't lied."
She pulls back, studying my face. "Why are you doing this? Really? You could walk away. Recuse yourself. Let me deal with Graham alone."
My jaw tightens. "No."
"Why not?"
I look at her and almost say it. "Because I—" I stop, catching myself. Not like this. Not when she's stressed and scared. "Because I care about you. More than I should. More than is probably wise."
Her eyes search mine. "Adrian?—"
I kiss her, cutting off whatever she was going to say. When we break apart, both breathing hard, she asks, "Do we need to be more convincing?"
"Yes. Completely unimpeachable. Graham will be looking for any crack. We can't give him one."
Her determination surfaces. "Then we won't. We'll be perfect. The most disgustingly in-love couple he's ever seen."
I almost smile at her fierceness.
"Disgustingly?"
"Tooth-achingly sweet. Nauseating. He'll beg us to stop being so happy."
The humor fades as reality sinks in. "I can't lose you, Emmy. Not to Graham's investigation. Not to anything."
She stares at me; a smile plays at the corners of her mouth.
I frame her face with my hands. "You're mine now, and I won't ever let you go."
"Promise?"
