Total pages in book: 22
Estimated words: 20836 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 104(@200wpm)___ 83(@250wpm)___ 69(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 20836 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 104(@200wpm)___ 83(@250wpm)___ 69(@300wpm)
Her laugh comes through tears. "I have conditions, though. No more contracts. No predetermined end dates. We figure it out as we go, like normal people."
"Agreed." The relief in her eyes mirrors what I'm feeling in my chest. "One condition from me," I add, unable to resist. "You have to keep making me read romance novels. I've learned they're basically instruction manuals for emotionally stunted lawyers."
She laughs, "actually, for emotionally stunted males in general," and pulls me down for a kiss that tastes like home.
When we break apart, she reaches into her purse and extracts a folded piece of paper. "I found something yesterday in Violet's copy of Persuasion."
My hands aren't quite steady as I unfold it and read aloud: "Love is a risk, but so is every great story. Emerson will understand this someday. P.S. - If you're reading this, darling girl, it means my plan worked. Adrian is perfect for you. Stop fighting it."
The words settle between us like the missing piece of a puzzle we didn't know we were solving.
Well, damn. 'Stop fighting it'... "She knew, my, my, well, I'll be fucked," I look up from the note to find Emmy's eyes bright with unshed tears. "And I was..."
Emmy's not sure if she wants to laugh or cry. She slaps a hand playfully onto my chest. "Ha. Ha. My stiff-collared lawyer is cracking jokes now." Emmy lifts the coffee cup but stops before taking a sip. "She set us up. That impossible clause wasn't about control—it was about pushing me toward someone who would challenge me, someone worth the risk."
"She told me to look after you." I think back to those library conversations. "I thought she meant professionally, that she wanted me to ensure the estate was handled properly."
"She meant all of it." Emmy chuckles and shakes her head. "She was playing matchmaker from beyond the grave."
We're both laughing now, the pieces of her plan finally falling into place—Violet's knowing looks, her careful questions about my personal life, the way she'd smile when I mentioned Emmy's name.
"Thank you, Violet, you wily old fox. To her memory, to the woman who saw something in us we couldn't see ourselves."
"For manipulating us?" Emmy teases, but there's no heat in it.
"For knowing us better than we thought we knew ourselves."
I pull her off the desk and into my arms, kissing her with all the gratitude and love and wonder I feel. When she pulls back, her eyes search mine with a question I can answer now without hesitation.
"What happens now?"
"Now we live happily ever after, like in your novels."
"Life isn't a romance novel, Adrian."
"Ours is." I brush a strand of hair from her face. "And I plan to spend every chapter proving it to you."
"I love you, Adrian."
"And I love you, Emmy. Forever and ever."
And somewhere in the stacks of first editions and leather-bound classics in the Blake library, if you listened very carefully, you might hear the echo of an old woman's delighted laughter—because Violet Blake always did love a good love story, especially when she got to write the beginning herself.
The End