I shake my head slowly, letting out a sigh of regret. “It’s too late. Dad sold the house already, it’ll probably be razed to the ground in a week.”
“Not if the new owner has anything to say about it.” Emerson’s smile is full of secrets. I frown.
“What are you talking about?”
He kisses me. “It’s mine. Well, ours. I bought it for you.”
My mouth drops open. Emerson leans in to kiss me again, but I pull back, my mind reeling. “What? I don’t understand…” I blink at him, amazed. “But, where did you get the money? Emerson! You can’t afford this!”
“Sure I can,” he shrugs, still grinning. “I sold half the bar to Garrett, and your Dad will tell you, I drive a hard bargain. I got it for a song.”
My tears come again. “You bought me a house,” I whisper, amazed. “I can’t believe it. Nobody’s ever done something like that for me.”
“Get used to it.” Emerson cradles my cheeks in his hands. “I’m going to love you forever, Juliet McKenzie. And I’m going to spend every day proving you’re the only one.”
“You don’t have anything to prove,” I whisper, “You’re my hurricane, Emerson Ray. I’ll always be yours.”
AFTER
We stay in the cellar until the next morning, breathing promises into each other’s bodies; tracing the future across our na**d skin. When we emerge from the shelter out into the bright light of day, the storm has passed, but the damage is strewn all across the property.
“Oh!” I cry with disappointment, taking in the felled trees splayed on the ground, and the wreckage of roof tiles and storm windows, broken on the ground. My photography studio is nothing but firewood, shelves thrown clear across the yard, prints scattered and dancing on the breeze.
“Shh,” Emerson holds me close, surveying the scene. “Don’t you see, it’s still standing. It’ll take more than a little storm to tear this one down.”
He’s right. The porch chairs may be broken, and the window smashed open, but the bones of the old beach house are still standing, solid and true, ready to weather another hundred hurricanes.
Unbroken.
“Ready to get started?” I ask.
“Hell yeah. “He turns and gives me a heart-stopping smile. This is mine, I realize in wonder. For the rest of my days, I get that smile, and those eyes, and so much more, a lifetime with the man I’ve loved completely since the day we met.
I take his hand, and we walk together into our tomorrow.
ke my head slowly, letting out a sigh of regret. “It’s too late. Dad sold the house already, it’ll probably be razed to the ground in a week.”
“Not if the new owner has anything to say about it.” Emerson’s smile is full of secrets. I frown.
“What are you talking about?”
He kisses me. “It’s mine. Well, ours. I bought it for you.”
My mouth drops open. Emerson leans in to kiss me again, but I pull back, my mind reeling. “What? I don’t understand…” I blink at him, amazed. “But, where did you get the money? Emerson! You can’t afford this!”
“Sure I can,” he shrugs, still grinning. “I sold half the bar to Garrett, and your Dad will tell you, I drive a hard bargain. I got it for a song.”
My tears come again. “You bought me a house,” I whisper, amazed. “I can’t believe it. Nobody’s ever done something like that for me.”
“Get used to it.” Emerson cradles my cheeks in his hands. “I’m going to love you forever, Juliet McKenzie. And I’m going to spend every day proving you’re the only one.”
“You don’t have anything to prove,” I whisper, “You’re my hurricane, Emerson Ray. I’ll always be yours.”
AFTER
We stay in the cellar until the next morning, breathing promises into each other’s bodies; tracing the future across our na**d skin. When we emerge from the shelter out into the bright light of day, the storm has passed, but the damage is strewn all across the property.
“Oh!” I cry with disappointment, taking in the felled trees splayed on the ground, and the wreckage of roof tiles and storm windows, broken on the ground. My photography studio is nothing but firewood, shelves thrown clear across the yard, prints scattered and dancing on the breeze.
“Shh,” Emerson holds me close, surveying the scene. “Don’t you see, it’s still standing. It’ll take more than a little storm to tear this one down.”
He’s right. The porch chairs may be broken, and the window smashed open, but the bones of the old beach house are still standing, solid and true, ready to weather another hundred hurricanes.
Unbroken.
“Ready to get started?” I ask.
“Hell yeah. “He turns and gives me a heart-stopping smile. This is mine, I realize in wonder. For the rest of my days, I get that smile, and those eyes, and so much more, a lifetime with the man I’ve loved completely since the day we met.
I take his hand, and we walk together into our tomorrow.