Page 94 of The Emma Special

“Like what?” He bit a large strawberry in half, his mouth exploding with the fresh juice.

“Like that!” She gestured at his face and twirled her hand all around, which explained absolutely nothing. Then she leaned forward, looked both ways as if somebody else might hear her. “We nicknamed you Mr. Hottie,” she whispered.

James let his jaw drop. “We? The Kiss and Tell Book Club?”

Emma nodded. “And they’ve never even seen you in the glasses.” She shivered and bit her lip.

“I don’t think that’s very appropriate.”

“It’s not! I tried to make them stop.” Her eyes widened to convey an innocence that he knew was fake. “You’re more than a pretty face, you know?”

“I know. I’m struggling to grasp the pretty face part, not the more.”

“Right…” Emma cleared her throat. “So here’s breakfast.”

He took the plate and schooled his features to erase any hint of a smile. “It’s nice to know you didn’t just marry me for my money.”

Emma gasped. “James, don’t say⁠—”

“You married me for my body too.”

Her giggles hit a crescendo, and the melody was glorious. “Stop it!”

He beckoned her over. “I would like to eat now, Mrs. Hottie, please come sit with me.”

When they’d finished, he fought her to clear the dishes. It was hardly a fight when she wasn’t able to do anything to stop him from loading the dishwasher and wiping the counter besides swing her crutches at him.

He surveyed the kitchen with his hands on his hips. “Well, I hate to say it, but I do have to go make the money today.” He turned toward her, sitting at the bar, sipping from her pink mug he’d retrieved from the office. “Anything you need before your appointment?”

“Ugh…” Her head drooped until her forehead tapped the counter.

“Hey, what’s going on? I thought we were excited about this?”

She rolled her head side to side on the marble surface. “Yeah.”

He circled the island and wrapped his arms over her shoulders, lifting her against his chest. “Are you worried?”

Emma threaded her fingers into his hands to cross his arms tightly around her. “I’ve never had surgery before,” she said softly. “Now that it’s looming over me, I’m terrified. I know it’s going to hurt, but it’s everything else that’s horrible to think about. They’re going to put me to sleep. What if I don’t wake back up? What if I have a bad reaction to the medicine? What if they can’t fix my leg, and we’ve done all of this for nothing? What if⁠—”

“Shhh.” James released her hold and spun her stool to face him. “You can’t talk like this. It’s like we pulled you out of the ocean into the boat, and now you’re worried your life jacket won’t buckle.”

“It’s good to have life jackets.”

“You’re in a good boat. It’s not sinking.”

“I’m scared,” she confessed again in a whisper.

“You’re safe. If you keep having these thoughts, just come to me, and I’ll be your little dose of optimism.” He pressed his lips against her forehead. “I have some time before I need to dress for work. Will you come sit on the couch with me?”

When she nodded, James scooped her up from her chair and moved her to the living room. As much as he wanted to sit and simply keep her in his lap, he knew she wasn’t ready for that yet. So he set her down on one corner of the couch then grabbed his Bible from the drawer on the end table.

Praying as he settled on the other side of the couch, he flipped through the books until he found Jeremiah chapter seventeen. Maybe he should have asked if she’d like him to read. Instead, he led his new wife in their first morning of worship together. Midway through the chapter, her audible intake of breath made him smile.

This was the part he’d wanted to bless her with. “Heal me, Lord, and I will be healed. Save me, and I will be saved, for you are the one I praise.” He finished the chapter and prayed a blessing on their day.

“Thank you,” she whispered. “Do you think we could do this every morning?”

James reached for her hand and squeezed it. “I would love that.”