Page 97 of The Emma Special

Shoot. She was moving around the house when she was supposed to be resting and elevating her knee. “I’m going to have to trust you know your limits.”

“Thank you, James. I promise I’m a big girl and can handle myself.”

Oh, boy. Emma was going to keep him in a constant state of worry. “Okay. I’m⁠—”

“Oh! Today is Thursday!”

“Yes. Your pre-op is at one fifteen and surgery tomorrow.”

“But it’s Thursday. I have book club. I need to—I know it’s been a busy week. Insane and full, but if—I’m so sorry, would you mind if I⁠—”

“We’ll get pizza for everyone. Invite them to the house.”

“I would feel bad making you feed everyone. I can cook something. Or I don’t have to eat⁠—”

“You’re going to have to get used to me taking care of you. It’s settled, I’ll order pizza for your pre-op book club party.”

“Okay,” she answered quietly like a child who’d been reprimanded.

He dropped the back of his head on his office chair realizing he’d jumped too far ahead of himself by asking to take her out. He had to get his calendar lined up properly. With the wedding and insurance paperwork, the hospital calling him, the office in a mess as Florence trained a new assistant, the last thing he needed was Emma pushing back when all he wanted to do was care for her basic needs, like food.

“Now, I was calling to see if you’d be interested in going to a charity fundraiser with me. It’s a formal affair, and it’s about a month after your surgery.”

“Formal? Like, a ball?”

He smiled at how quickly her spark came back. “Sort of.”

An excited hum buzzed his ear. “A gala? A soirée?”

“Are you already planning your outfit?”

“Yes! But how formal are we talking here? Little black dress or ball gown? I have a handful of princess gowns that can accommodate a ball.”

“The red one you wore last Friday was–” He swallowed. “Acceptable.”

“Psh, that ol’ thing?”

“We can discuss details later⁠—”

Her gasp was loud enough he pulled the phone from his ear. “Do you want to play runway with me? Like a fashion show and you vote on your favorite?”

Every inch of his skin lit up at the thought of Emma modeling dresses for him. “Absolutely. I’m going to RSVP to the charity auction for two.”

“Oh. Yes, please. Sorry. You have to get back to work.”

“I’ll see you in about forty-five minutes, but I’ll need to drop you back at home after the appointment and wrap up things here so I can take the next few days off. I’ll have pizza delivered so you can eat with the girls before I get home.”

“Okay, love you, bye!”

The call went dead and he slowly lowered the phone.

Love you. She’d said it so easily. He wanted to grab up her words and secure them as evidence. It had to be⁠—

The phone rang in his hand, and he answered immediately.

“Hello.”

“I said the thing, didn’t I?” Emma asked.