Page 90

Emma looked at her, the shock slowly giving way to something much quieter, much more grounded. She shook her head.

"No, Victoria."

Victoria's heart seemed to break, the fragile hope in her chest plummeting. "Emma, please, it's yours—"

"The Amber House belongs to your family," Emma interrupted softly. "To your mother. To Joe. And now it belongs to you. It's your sanctuary now." Emma let out a slow breath, the weight of fifteen years finally lifting from her shoulders. "I love this house, but I don't want the deed. I need to close that chapter. I don't want to be the caretaker anymore."

Victoria searched Emma's eyes, her voice barely a murmur. "Then what do you want?"

"I want us to make decisions together," Emma said, stepping closer. "As partners. But I'm not signing that paper."

Victoria let out a shaky exhale, nodding slowly. "Okay. Total veto power, then. Except for the floral arrangements in the hallway, I won’t let you get close to a bouquet after the festival incident..."

A wet laugh escaped Emma’s throat. Tears spilled over her eyelashes. She swiped them away with the back of her hand, looking around the pristine kitchen.

"Did you do all this work yourself?" Emma asked, her voice thick with emotion.

Victoria let out an incredulous scoff. She gestured toward the floorboards. "I might have undergone a personal transformation, but I do not know how to lay parquet. I hired a crew but I oversaw the plumbing installation. Emma, we have zero debt now. We have copper pipes, no creaking floorboards, and a brand-new, hardwired internet hub so nobody can ever deliberately pull the router plug during a quarter million-dollar call again. Not that I’d be making any of those anytime soon."

Emma’s lips twitched, fighting a grin. "Good to know. And?"

"And I realized something while I was arguing with the electricians last week."

Emma tilted her head. "What?"

"Running a bed and breakfast gives me a profound joy," Victoria admitted. The truth felt light in her chest. "It brings me a peace that Manhattan never did. And it will be infinitely better if you are doing it with me. But that depends solely on you."

Emma let out a ragged breath. She took a step forward, raising her arms to embrace Victoria.

Victoria’s heart soared. She leaned in, ready to pull Emma against her chest.

Emma suddenly stopped. Her arms dropped. She took a step back.

Victoria froze. The warmth in her chest evaporated.

"Wait. What is the story behind Mrs. Marble’s place?" Emma asked, her voice carrying a sudden, dangerous edge of suspicion.

Victoria felt the blood drain from her face, leaving her lightheaded and frantic. Emma was looking for the catch. Buying the inn was one thing, but securing the bakery meant Victoria was meddling in her actual career, her independence, handing her a ready-made life after Emma had spent three months sweating in a French kitchen to build her own credentials.

"Mrs. Marble approached me some time ago," Victoria started, the words tumbling out much faster than she intended as she desperately tried to bridge the widening gap between them. "She wanted to retire but needed to offload the lease, and she asked if I knew anyone who might be interested."

Emma narrowed her eyes, crossing her arms tightly over her chest. "And how did you know I would want it? How did you even know I was coming back today?"

"I was hoping you’d want it and… I have my sources," Victoria replied, her voice shaking slightly.

"Lucy," Emma muttered, dropping her head back against the ceiling with a dry, disbelieving scoff. "Of course it was Lucy. She took a screenshot when I showed her my drawing, didn't she? The layout, the bookshelves, the whole bloody thing."

"She did send me the sketch, yes," Victoria admitted, her hands twisting in the front of her sweater as she tried for a tentative smile that didn't quite reach her terrified eyes. "She’s remarkably good at espionage once you get past the constant sarcasm and the fact that she nearly lost the shop keys twice in forty-eight hours."

Emma did not smile. She just stared at Victoria, her expression totally unreadable, the silence stretching out so long that Victoria felt like she was physically suffocating.

Victoria could not handle the quiet. The overwhelming need to justify herself took over, resulting in a breathless stream of explanations as she tried to prove she wasn't trying to trap the woman she loved.

"Emma, please listen to me, I didn't do this to buy your forgiveness," Victoria rushed on, her hands fluttering helplessly as the words piled up. "The opportunity came up and I just wanted you to have the option without any pressure. I only paid the preliminary deposit so Mrs. Marble wouldn't give it to anyone else, but the lease is flexible, and if you don't want it, I'll find another tenant and Mrs. Marble will give me the deposit back. We didn't even pay anyone to clear it out. Nate, Lucy and I spent all Sunday hauling the old display counters down the street, and my back still hurts, but I just wanted it to be ready in case you said yes, it was just a backup plan to—"

"You hauled display cases?" Emma interrupted, staring at her in sheer disbelief.

Victoria blinked, caught completely off-guard. "Nate took the heavier side."