We got to the hospital in record time. Once Emerson had gotten off the phone with his sister and emerged from the tent, completely white-faced, it had taken Sawyer and Chase less than ten minutes to take down the campsite and get everything into the car.

I had stood around, feeling completely useless, until I noticed Emerson still standing there, staring at his phone. I slipped my hand into his and gave it a squeeze. Some of the color returned to his face as he gave me a squeeze in return.

“It’s going to be OK,” I told him, wishing that I could actually make that promise.

None of us spoke on the ride back, with Emerson and I in the back seats, his hand still in mine. He wouldn’t let go of me, and as we walked into the hospital together, I held on tight.

We went right to the nurse’s station, where they told us that Emerson’s father was asleep and resting.

“Can you guys wait here?” Emerson asked.

The guys nodded, and I was about to release Emerson’s hand, when he tucked it under his arm and against his chest.

“I need you,” he told me.

I nodded and followed him, the two of us weaving through antiseptic-smelling corridors as we looked for Henry’s room. I spotted Hayley and Portia first. Both of them looked exhausted, their eyes red-rimmed and puffy. Even Portia’s normally perfectly styled hair looked slightly out of place. Still amazing, of course, but more like a normal person and not a magazine ad.

The minute they spotted Emerson, they both fell into his arms, mother and sister crying once again. I stepped aside so he could comfort them, his broad shoulders enveloping them.

“I’m so glad you came,” Portia sniffed against his arm.

“Of course I came,” Emerson said quietly. “He’s my father.”

That just made Portia cry even more, and she was holding onto Emerson for dear life. He had to turn his full attention to her, which meant that Hayley was hugging herself, looking sad and forlorn.

Before I could second-guess my actions, I reached out for her, and she quickly wrapped her arms around me and hugged me tightly.

I caught Emerson’s gaze across his mother’s shoulders.

“Thank you,” he mouthed.

I could only nod. I was relieved I could offer some sort of comfort.

“What happened?” he asked, after a few moments, when it seemed as though his mother had calmed down some.

Portia sniffed and wiped at her eyes and nose with a tissue.

“I don’t know,” she said. “We were at the table, and all of a sudden he grabbed his arm and went completely pale. Then he keeled over.”

Emerson looked horrified, and I couldn’t blame him. No wonder Portia was in such a state. It must have been a frightening thing to witness.

“We got him to the hospital and he was conscious, but I haven’t heard anything yet.” Portia reached out and took Hayley’s hand. “Then I called Hayley and she met me here.” She looked at Emerson. “I’m so glad she was able to get a hold of you.”

“I’m sorry it took me so long to get here,” Emerson told them. “We were camping with the guys.”

“I’m just glad you’re here,” Portia told him, her voice wavering a bit, but she took a deep breath and seemed to calm herself.

“The nurses at the front desk said that he was resting,” Emerson told us. “Has anyone been in to see him?”

Portia and Hayley shook their heads. “The doctor is still in there. We’re just waiting to hear what they found out.”

Emerson nodded, his expression grim.

We all stood there, looking at each other. Then, I saw Hayley’s eyes light up.

“Oh my God.” She let out a small squeal that surprised all of us. Because she sounded happy all of a sudden. “Did you two get back together?” she asked, holding her hands to her chest, looking a little like a kid on Christmas morning.

Emerson offered a sheepish look.

“You did!” Hayley shrieked and yanked us both into a hug. “This is so great!” She pulled back and punched Emerson in the arm.

“Ow.” He rubbed at the injured spot. “What was that for?”

“Don’t do that again,” she ordered him.

“Do what?” He looked thoroughly confused.

“Break up with Alex,” Hayley told him, looping her arm through mine. “She’s the best thing that ever happened to you, and you can’t fuck it up again.”

“Don’t worry.” Emerson took my hand. “I plan to do everything in my power to keep from fucking up like that again.”

I blushed. The past twenty-four hours had been a whirlwind, and now Hayley was looking at me like I was about to become her new sister. Which didn’t scare me as much as it might have in the past. This thing between me and Emerson was unlike anything I’d ever experienced before, and I was in the same boat as him. I would do absolutely anything to make sure we didn’t fuck it up again.

“Mrs. Hayes?” The doctor came out of Henry’s room, and tension immediately reappeared in everyone’s face.

“How is he?” Portia asked urgently. Both Hayley and Emerson were at her side, each holding a hand.

“He’s a very lucky man,” the doctor told them. “It wasn’t a heart attack.”

Portia sagged with relief. “Thank God,” she murmured, clutching her children’s hands. “What happened?”

“It was a warning,” the doctor told them. “Your husband needs to make some serious lifestyle changes—in his diet, his method of exercise, and the way he deals with stress. He’s not a man in his twenties anymore, and he needs to start treating his body appropriately.”

The doctor continued talking, telling them that Henry had put undue stress on his heart and now needed lots of rest and relaxation. And less red meat.

“Oh, Daddy is going to hate that,” Hayley murmured, and Emerson nodded.

“Most men his age experience a wake-up call like this,” the doctor said. “Some of them don’t get a warning, though, so we consider this to be the best-case scenario.”

“We’ll make sure he makes some changes,” Portia told the doctor firmly, and it was clear from the expression on her face that there was no way Henry was going to be arguing with her about this. “Can I see him?”

The doctor nodded. “Keep it short, though,” he told us. “Your father is still resting. We’d like to keep him here for another night or two just to make sure he’s in a good place before we send him home.”

“Of course.” Portia shook the doctor’s hand. “Thank you so much.”

Then she disappeared into Henry’s room, leaving Emerson, Hayley, and I to process the news. Everyone seemed to let out a long breath at the same time. Hayley gave her brother a big hug, and then gave me one as well.

“I knew he’d be OK,” Emerson told Hayley. “He’s too stubborn to kick the bucket.”

“He’s going to be so mad about the diet change,” Hayley said.

“I’m pretty sure your mom can handle that,” I commented, and Hayley grinned.

“Oh, she definitely can.” Hayley gave me and Emerson a look. “So, when did you two get back together?”

Emerson put his arm around my shoulders. “Last night.”

Hayley frowned at him. “You waited that long?” She looked at me. “Did he at least come to you?”

“Excuse me!” Emerson crossed his arms. “I was about to go to her, when she showed up randomly at my campsite. Speaking of which, I never asked how you found us.” He glanced over at me. “Guessing you had some help with that?”

“Maybe,” I said coyly.

“You should buy me something really nice to thank me,” Hayley told him. “Because it kind of looks like I’m responsible for the two of you making up.”

“I’ll buy you a pony.” Emerson gave his sister a hug. “But not because you’re responsible for getting us back together. Because you’re my sister. And you should have a pony.”

Hayley opened her mouth, but before she could accept or reject the offer of a pony, Portia had opened the door to Henry’s room and poked her head out into the hallway.

“He wants to see both of you,” she said. “But he wants a word with Emerson first.”

Hayley didn’t look disappointed as she nodded. Emerson, on the other hand, looked extremely apprehensive.

“Maybe we should wait until he’s feeling better,” he said hesitantly. “You heard what the doctor said about stress.”

But Portia shook her head. “He wants to see you,” she told him, gesturing for him to join her in the room. “Both of you should come in.”

Emerson seemed to relax a little at that, taking my hand. I gave it a firm squeeze and then tugged him towards the hospital room. I knew he was nervous about talking to his dad, but I also knew that it was something he needed to do.

He took a deep breath and we headed in.

I didn’t know what to expect, but there wasn’t much I could have done to prepare myself to see Henry Hayes, one of the richest men in Chicago, who I had only seen in moments of vitality and strength, looking tired and old in a hospital bed.

Emerson squeezed my hand, and I could only imagine how hard it was for him. This was his father, and despite their contentious relationship, there was no doubt in my mind that Emerson loved his father. Just as I knew that Henry loved Emerson.

But both of them were stubborn. That was evident in the way they both set their jaw as Emerson entered the room. It would have been humorous if not for the circumstances, since they could have been mirror images of each other—both a portrait of discomfort and awkwardness.

“Dad,” Emerson started, the term seeming to slip out of his mouth, instead of the more formal “father,” which is what I knew he usually used.

I could see it soften Henry, just a little.

“I’m glad you came,” Henry said, and it was shocking at how small and quiet his voice was. He cleared his throat. “It’s good to see you.”

Emerson squeezed my hand again.

“Good to see you too,” Emerson said. “The doctor said it was just a false alarm. That you were very lucky.”

“We’ll see how lucky I feel when your mother refuses to let me order steak anymore,” Henry grumbled, looking a little like a petulant child instead of one of the most powerful men in Chicago. It did a lot to humanize him, and I found that I wasn’t quite as scared of him anymore.

“You’ll survive,” Portia told him, her voice sharp, but her gaze warm and loving. Then she was the one who cleared her throat, giving Henry a pointed look.

He looked down, clearly uncomfortable.

“Your father wanted to say something to you,” Portia prompted, when it became evident that Henry was continuing to be stubborn.

“I wanted to apologize,” Henry finally said, his voice gruff. “I might have overstepped the other night at the gala.”

Emerson’s eyebrows went up, but he didn’t say anything.

“You might have?” Portia asked.

Obviously they had discussed Henry’s apology, and Portia was going to do everything to make sure he did it justice.

“I overstepped,” Henry amended. “I know that you and I don’t see eye to eye on your future, and I still maintain that you could be doing more with your intelligence and your talents and your connections.”

I felt Emerson tense beside me and for a moment I thought that this was going to go very, very badly, perhaps ending in another fight that could lead to Henry having an actual heart attack, but then Portia slapped Henry’s hand.

“But I’m very proud of you,” Henry said quickly, almost in one breath.

The tension seemed to leave Emerson’s body.

“Thanks, Dad,” he said, his voice tight.

Portia’s eyes were shining, and I could tell that everyone was on the verge of emotions that they weren’t entirely comfortable with.

“Maybe we should give your mother and father a moment together,” I suggested. “We can send Hayley in next.”

Henry gave me an appreciative nod.

“I’m sorry,” he said, before we left. “I never should have tried to get involved in your relationship with my son.”

“I know you’re just doing what you think is best for him,” I told him. “But you should know that Emerson already knows what’s best for him. Come to the bar when you recover and you’ll see that.”

Henry nodded. “I’ll do that,” he said.

We exited and sent Hayley in to see her dad. Once we were alone in the hallway, Emerson seemed to collapse into one of the plastic, drilled-to-the-floor hospital chairs. He buried his face in his hands as I sat down next to him and put my own hand on his knee.

“I was so scared,” he told me after a few moments of silence. His voice was muffled behind his hands, but I could hear that he was doing his best to keep it together. “When Hayley called me, I thought that this was it. That I had lost him. That he was gone and the last thing we’d said to each other had been words of anger. I would never have a chance to have a relationship with him.”

He looked up at me and took my hands. “Thank you for coming with me,” he said. “I don’t know if I could have done this without you.”

I kissed him. “I’m really glad you and your dad spoke,” I told him.

He let out a breath. “Yeah.” He ran a hand through his hair and let out a begrudging laugh. “Who would have thought he would ever apologize?”

“Health scares will do that to people,” I told him. “Maybe things will change from now on. For the better.”

“Well, they couldn’t have gotten any worse,” Emerson joked before his expression became serious again. “But thank you for coming with me.”

“Of course.” I took his hand. “You know I’m here for you.”

“About that,” he said, facing me. “We never really got a chance to talk after last night. About us.”

“What about us?” I asked, feeling unduly nervous.

“I meant what I said to my sister. That I don’t want anything like what happened at the gala to happen again. I don’t want to lose you,” he said, his eyes focused and intense. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” I relaxed. “And I’m here.”

“So we’re good?” he wanted to know.

“We’re more than good,” I confirmed. “We’re great. We’re together.”

He took my face in his hands and kissed me. I could kiss him forever, I realized. I could lose myself in him completely. And I wanted to. I had never experienced that before. Then I remembered that I had something important to share with him. Something that I had wanted to tell him about the minute it had happened, but had been unable to because we were apart.

“I got the job,” I told him. “The associates position at the firm.”

Emerson’s eyes got wide.

“What? Really?” he asked, grabbing my shoulders.

I nodded. “Really.”

“That’s incredible!” He kissed me. “I knew you would.”

“You did?” I teased. “Then why didn’t you tell me? I was nervous sick over it for months.”

He kissed me again. “I’m so proud of you,” he told me. “When did you find out?”

“A few days ago, actually,” I explained. “I wanted to call you. I wanted to tell you. Actually, you were the first person I wanted to tell.”

“I’m sorry you felt like you couldn’t,” he apologized. “Did you get a chance to celebrate?”

I shook my head. “Not really.” I squeezed his hand. “But it’s not important. Not with everything that’s going on right now.”

Emerson gaped at me. “Not important? Oh no, that cannot stand. We are celebrating, and we are celebrating in style. After all, it’s not every day that the girl of your dreams gets the job of her dreams.”

I blushed. I didn’t think I would ever get over knowing that I was the girl of Emerson’s dreams.

“Besides.” He wrapped his arms around me. “I’m pretty sure that the one thing that my father and I agree on is that you’re one hell of a woman. And he would be very disappointed if I didn’t show you exactly how amazing you are.”

We stayed at the hospital until visiting hours were up. By then, both Emerson and I were exhausted. He still smelled vaguely of fish from the camping trip, and I was still sans underwear and bra, which had been a fun and sexy thing last night, but today was becoming increasingly uncomfortable.

By the time we left Hayley and Portia, I was half convinced that Emerson would have forgotten his promise to celebrate tonight—and I honestly wouldn’t have minded. Because a night with him—whether it was out on the town or cozying up in bed—sounded like my idea of heaven.

But as soon as we got in the car, it became clear that a night of celebrating was still on Emerson’s mind.

“Why don’t we stop at your place. We can shower—I have a change of clothes downstairs in the bar—and then we’ll go out and properly celebrate your momentous occasion.” He winked at me. “With champagne.”

How could I say no? Just looking at him, his excitement, his joy, made my exhaustion melt away. I’d go anywhere with him. Any time. Any place.

We shared the shower. It was wet and slippery and very, very cramped in my tiny bathroom, but we took our time, washing each other clean . . . as well as indulging in some very, very dirty, fun activities. The water was cold by the time we got out, but it didn’t matter. Just a single look from Emerson could warm me up right away.

As he headed downstairs to change, I addressed my closet. My hand automatically went to my little black dress, my go-to for all things formal and fancy. But tonight felt like it deserved something different. Something a little less stuffy.

There was a red dress I had bought right after getting the job at the firm. It had been a reward, a splurge after knowing that I would have a steady paycheck for the upcoming future. But I had never worn it. Because it was a beautiful dress, but it was too bright and too short and too sexy for anything work-related. And since my life had become solely work-related, it had been regulated to the back of my closet.

Until tonight. Tonight it was going to get it’s moment to shine.

I slipped it on, pairing it with some extremely sparkly and dramatic earrings and equally fun, sexy heels. The dress was tighter than I remembered, but it looked good. I looked good. I looked hot.

Emerson rapped on the doorjamb as he came back into the apartment.

“Got some champagne,” he said. “Are you ready to—”

His sentence stopped practically mid-sentence. I turned to find him standing in my apartment, staring, his mouth hanging open.

“Wow,” he said, his eyes wide. “You look— I mean, that dress is—” He shook his head as if he needed to clear his thoughts. “Fuck,” he finally settled on.

I laughed. “Does that mean you like it?” I asked.

“Like it?” he crossed the room, putting his hands on my hips, looking me over. “I fucking love it.” He kissed me, deeply. “But I think I’d like it even better on the floor of my apartment.” He gave me an exaggerated leer.

I winked at him. “Play your cards right and you might get exactly that.”

He groaned. “Come on.” He took my hand. “We’d better get out of here before I’m tempted to scrap our romantic, celebratory plans in favor of a night of extremely hot sex.”

“Why can’t we have both?” I asked as he practically dragged me out of my apartment.

“We can,” he told me, his hands skimming my hips. “But only if we do the romantic celebratory plans first. If you let me take that dress off of you, we won’t be leaving my apartment for days.”

My skin got hot imagining just that.

“Well.” I locked my front door. “Let’s get the romantic, celebratory section of the evening started as soon as possible.”

The dress rode up as I got into Emerson’s car, showing way more leg than I was used to showing. But Emerson didn’t mind at all, putting his hand on my bare knee as we pulled away from the building. There was a bottle of champagne at my feet, and two glasses.

“Should I even bother asking where we’re going?” I wanted to know.

Emerson smiled and shook his head. “Nope,” he said. “But I think you’ll like it.”

“I’m sure I will,” I told him, taking the opportunity to take him in.

He looked good. Apparently, he was in the habit of stashing a pretty good, black suit in his office in the bar, because he looked just as polished and put together as he had for our first—fake—date. Though, he was sans tie and his hair was its usual messy style. Just the way I liked it. Just the way I liked him.

I put my hand over his. Everything was already perfect.

Emerson drove us to Lincoln Park. I had been meaning to go forever, but life and work always seemed to get in the way. He parked the car and gathered up the champagne, glasses, and a basket that he had stashed in the backseat of the car.

The weather was perfect. Sunny, with just enough clouds in the sky to keep it from being too hot. Spring in Chicago was truly magnificent, and we were surrounded by couples and families that seemed to feel the same. Everyone was picnicking or taking a stroll or just enjoying themselves. I felt a little overdressed in my sexy red dress, but no one gave us a second glance as Emerson led me through the park.

We ended up at the Lily Pool, another place I had always planned to visit. We entered through the prairie-style archway, where we could observe the limestone slabs stacked on top of each other, creating an organic, naturalistic style. There were circular benches and stepping stones, all of it seeming to blend into their surroundings seamlessly. It was beautiful—the lily pads resting along the surface of the still pond, their white, spiky flowers in bloom. It was so peaceful and tranquil, and much less crowded than the rest of the park.

We set up our picnic near the water, Emerson opening the basket to reveal not just a delicious-smelling spread of food, but a blanket as well as plates and silverware.

“This is the nicest picnic I’ve ever been on,” I told him as he loaded up my plate with cheese and fruit.

“I’m afraid I can’t take credit for much of it,” he said with a smile. “The food is what I could find in the bar’s kitchen. I thought about making something, but you’ve already tasted my limited culinary experience, and I was pretty sure that grilled cheese sandwiches wouldn’t travel very well.”

I laughed and took the plate of borrowed food. It was delicious. And so was the champagne, which Emerson neatly opened, surprising a few of the nearby birds with the popping of the cork. He poured us each a glass.

“To Alex,” he said, raising his glass to mine. “The smartest, most driven, most beautiful woman I’ve ever met.” He kissed me. “I’m so proud of you, babe, and can’t wait to see what you accomplish next.”

I was overwhelmed.

And then he took a small box out of the pocket of his jacket.

It was long, and thin, clearly not a ring box, but I realized, for the first time in my life, that this was a man I could see a future with. That I could see myself marrying him. Sharing a life with him. It was an amazing feeling.

“I bought this when we first started seeing each other,” Emerson confessed, looking down in the box. “Even that early on, I knew we had something special, and I’m so grateful that you’re in my life. Especially after I fucked up so tremendously.” He opened the box. “I love you.”

It was a sterling silver charm bracelet with a single charm. The scales of justice. It was so beautiful and wonderful that tears welled up in my eyes. I was overcome with emotion as I held out my hand so Emerson could fasten the bracelet to my wrist. It fit just right, the little silver charm jingling as I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him.

“Thank you,” I told him, my voice thick with tears. “It’s wonderful.”

“You deserve it.” He took my hand. “And I will do everything I can to make sure that I deserve you.”

“You do,” I told him. “And you already have.”

I snuggled into his embrace, feeling such happiness that I thought I might burst. Everything was perfect.