Page 93 of The Emma Special

He didn’t count the seconds. Didn’t want to. He wanted trillions of seconds with her, and these were only the first. “How’s your room?”

“Delightful.” She buried her face against his neck. “You ready for coffee?”

This was everything. Emma was leaning into him, and he wanted to savor it—wanted to store the feeling in a jar so he could carry it around with him everywhere.

He held her close for a few more breaths before answering. “I would like that.”

She untangled her arms and positioned herself at his side. “Walk me to the counter.” She let him take some of her weight as he moved to the island and pulled out a stool. “You sit here, and let me finish making breakfast.”

“No, let me,” he countered.

She shook a finger in front of his face. “It’s part of the arrangement.”

Nope. He didn’t like that. He hadn’t implied she needed to do things for him. “That wasn’t in the paperwork.”

“Someone didn’t read the fine print.” She slipped one crutch under her arm.

“You don’t have to do this.” He didn’t like her moving around this much. He wanted her to be resting as much as possible. “I’ll just have a bowl of instant oatmeal.”

“I really want to, James. Let me impress you.”

“Honey, you already impress me. You enter a room, I’m impressed. Open your mouth, I’m impressed.”

She rolled her eyes. “We’ll see.”

Despite her limitations, she moved around the room gracefully, reaching for things in the correct cabinets as if she’d always lived here. “I didn’t know you were a morning person.”

“Oh, I’m not.” She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear and laughed once she caught his confused face. “It’s easy to get out of bed when I’m excited.”

He propped his elbows on the counter. “I’ve got to hear this. What’s got you excited?”

She picked up the spatula and pushed scrambled eggs around in the pan. “Nothing, really.”

Hmm. Interesting. What was with the sudden shyness? “Don’t hide, please.”

“Nothing.” She pressed the button on a coffee grinder he’d never seen before, tapping her fingernails on either side of it until it shut off. She shrugged and turned her natural smile on him again. “It’s you, Clark Kent. That’s all. I was excited to be your wife today.”

Resting his chin in his hands, James enjoyed the view. “Let me do the dishes then.”

Emma’s expression fell, like he’d delivered sad news instead of offering to clean. “I’ll do the dishes after you go to work.”

“What is a husband supposed to do in the mornings then?”

She waved the spatula toward him. “Sit there and look pretty. Eat your food. Then go save the world.”

“Hmm, you think I’m pretty?” James asked, teasing.

Emma stuck her tongue out while plating the eggs, but her cheeks turned pink. She glanced at him once, then looked away and started giggling.

He narrowed his eyes, sensing there was something she was keeping from him. He could wait. After all, they had their whole lives ahead of them.

Red-jeweled strawberries from a colander sat across the island. Lifting from his seat, he grabbed a handful of the berries and popped one in his mouth.

Her laughter grew louder every time she looked at him and caught him analyzing her. It was a struggle to keep his expression stern.

She’d confess eventually if he let her stew long enough.

“Okay, I’ll tell you,” she finally gasped, wiping her hand over her eyes. “Stop looking at me like that.”