“Nothing. She can wait,” Knightley said calmly, ignoring Margo dancing around in the window across the yard.
Emma looked at the phone, then up at her sister’s shocked face. Then she hit decline on her phone, shut it off, and then flung it on the bed.
Knightley turned to his side and pressed a button by his nightstand. Blackout shades descended over the windows, darkening the room and obstructing Margo’s view.
Emma’s mouth fell open. “When did you get those?”
“I’ve always had these.”
“Really?”
“Really. Just never wanted to use them before. What if I missed you at your window?”
She huffed, blowing her hair out of her face. She looked disheveled and beautiful. “Could have used those earlier is all I’m saying,” she muttered.
He chuckled softly as he pulled her back down to the bed.
She fell into his body with a sigh. “Everyone will know now.”
“Is that so awful?”
“No, it’s just…” She shrugged. “I wanted to control the narrative.”
“You can’t control everything.”
She threw him a smirk. “Says who?”
He leaned forward and brushed his lips against hers. “Don’t worry about everything else. We’re in this together. That’s what matters.”
She stared down at him for a moment, cocking her head to the side as she surveyed his features. “Yeah?”
He nodded, pushing a lock of hair from her forehead. “You’re my forever relationship, Emma Woodhouse.”
A sly smile curled her lips. “I thought that wasn’t a thing.”
He grinned. “Oh, it is absolutely a thing.”
She laughed and closed her eyes, letting her head fall into the crook of his neck. There was a mess of drama waiting for them outside his bedroom door: her family and his and every other friend in their neighborhood who would be hearing about this in the next ten minutes. And that was okay. This was 83rd Street, after all; there would likely always be drama. Nothing was perfect; he was beginning to realize maybe none of it was meant to be.
Then Emma sighed and her entire body relaxed against his, and he stopped himself. He leaned down and kissed the top of her head.
No, not everything was perfect. But sometimes that made it even better.
EPILOGUE
It was eight p.m. on Christmas Eve, and Knightley’s house glowed. Fairy lights and garland hung from every surface, and clusters of perfectly decorated trees framed each corner. The guests to the Woodhouses’ annual Christmas party gasped and smiled at their new venue while Emma stood back, champagne in hand, smiling at her victory.
“You’re looking smug,” Knightley said, coming up beside her and placing a soft kiss on her lips.
“Of course I look smug. Look around!”
He did, his gaze sliding from the growing crowd of friends and family to the decorations hanging from every available surface. “Did you hire Buddy the Elf?”
She rolled her eyes. “It’s perfect.”
“Whatever you say, Woodhouse.”
She turned to face him, a biting comment on the tip of her tongue, but the words dissolved when she saw how he looked down at her, a lazy grin turning up the corners of his full lips.
