“Make time,” Lena said firmly. “The man publicly claimed you with the wrist thing. In Zach Steele language, that was a skywriter proposal.”
Heat crept into her cheeks again, but she didn’t look away. “It’s not like that.”
“Isn’t it though?” Lena tilted her head, expression knowing. “Look, I get it. You’re both professionals. You’ve got a resort to run, security to manage, fallout from a psychopath to handle. But Emma—” She paused, making sure she had Emma’s full attention. “The man doesn’t do anything by accident. If he touched you in front of his brothers, he meant it.”
Kate nodded. “Lena’s right. Zach isn’t impulsive. Every action is calculated, intentional.”
“Which means he wanted us to see it. Wanted everyone to know.”
Lena's words settled over Emma like a blanket—warm and slightly overwhelming. She thought back to the moment in the cottage when Zach looked at her and said, ‘I can't lose youeither.’ The rawness in his voice. The way his carefully constructed walls cracked enough to let her understand what was underneath.
He’d meant it then. He meant it now.
“Okay,” Emma slumped back into her chair. “So what do I do?”
“You talk to him,” Kate said simply.
“Be honest,” Lena added. “If there’s one thing I know about Zach Steele, it’s that he values truth above everything else. Don’t hedge. Tell him what you want.”
Emma closed her eyes for a moment, letting herself acknowledge the truth she’d been circling around for weeks, maybe longer.
She wanted him.
Not the physical attraction—though God knew that had been blatant from the beginning, simmering under every interaction. She wanted more. The quiet moments in his office, the way he listened to her ideas without interruption. His dry humor and unexpected protectiveness.
She wanted to be the person allowed behind his walls, who knew what made him smile.
She wanted to be someone he came home to.
“Okay,” she opened her eyes. “I know what I want.”
Lena’s grin was immediate and triumphant. “There she is.”
“But,” Emma continued, “it’s complicated. We work together. His brothers are my bosses. The resort opening, a million logistical nightmares?—”
“Life is always complicated,” Kate interrupted gently. “There will always be a reason to wait, to be practical, to put it off until the timing is better.” She leaned closer to her camera. “But Emma? The timing is never perfect. And from what I saw in my dream—from what you just told us about the storm—you’re not someone who waits for permission.”
The words hit something deep in Emma’s chest. She thought of herself standing in the wind, the Windstone in her palm, asking—no, commanding—the storm to stop.
Kate was right. She had changed. Something fundamental shifted in her during those moments, and she couldn’t go back to being the person who second-guessed relationships at every turn.
Whatever came next, it would include Zach. She wasn’t letting him go.
“So,” Lena said, her tone shifting to something more practical. “Game plan. You finish sorting the resort. You make sure everyone is safe and operations are stable. And then—” she pointed at Emma through the screen. “—you find Zach and you have an actual conversation. No interruptions, no emergencies, no brothers barging in. Only the two of you.”
Emma nodded, and something settled in her chest. A decision made, a path chosen. “Okay, I can do that.”
“Good,” Lena sat back, satisfied. “Now, let's change topics before I get too invested in your love life—what’s the plan for the groundskeeper? Is he the last? Is it over?”
The shift was jarring but necessary. Emma straightened in her chair, reverting to professional mode.
“Zach thinks so,” Emma said.
Lena’s expression gentled. “Seriously, Em. Take care of yourself. You survived something traumatic. Make sure you’re processing it.”
“I am,” it was true. She felt steady. Grounded. The storm—both literal and metaphorical—had passed, and she was still standing.
Stronger than before.
