CHAPTER 4:

Emma stood in front of her closet, her heart racing as she tried to decide what to wear. It's not a date, she reminded herself for the hundredth time. But her hands still trembled slightly as she pulled out dress after dress.

She finally settled on a soft cream sundress with thin straps that showed off her shoulders and the tan she'd already started to develop. It was simple, understated, but the way it skimmed her curves made her feel beautiful. Dangerous.

She left her hair down in loose waves, applied just enough makeup to look natural, and studied herself in the mirror. The girl staring back at her looked older than eighteen. Confident. Ready.

Ready for what? she asked herself, but she already knew the answer.

When she emerged from her room, Marcus was waiting in the living room, and the look on his face when he saw her made her breath catch. His eyes darkened, traveling from her face down to her bare shoulders, her collarbone, before he caught himself and looked away.

"You look nice," he said, his voice slightly rough.

"Thanks." Emma's pulse quickened. "So do you."

He'd changed into dark slacks and a crisp white shirt, the sleeves rolled up to reveal his forearms. Simple, but devastatingly effective.

She wanted to touch him, to feel the strength she knew was there beneath the fabric.

The drive to the restaurant was quiet, but the silence felt different now. Charged. Emma watched his hands on the steering wheel, strong and capable, and wondered what they would feel like on her skin.

Stop it, she told herself. But she couldn't.

The restaurant was everything Marcus had promised, intimate and romantic, with soft lighting that made everything feel dreamlike.

They were seated at a corner table with a view of the harbor, the boats bobbing gently in the darkening water.

Emma ordered wine without thinking, then blushed when the server asked for ID.

"I'm sorry," the server said apologetically. "I can't…"

"That's fine," Marcus interrupted smoothly. "She'll have sparkling water." After the server left, he raised an eyebrow at her. "Really?"

"Worth a shot," Emma said with a small smile.

He laughed, and the sound made her stomach flutter. "You're trouble, you know that?"

"You have no idea."

The words came out more suggestive than she'd intended, and she saw Marcus's expression shift, heat flickering in his eyes before he looked down at his menu.

They ordered, and then Marcus leaned back in his chair, studying her in the candlelight. "So tell me something I don't know about you."

"Like what?"

"Anything. Surprise me."

Emma thought for a moment. "I'm afraid of butterflies."

He blinked. "Butterflies?"

"I know it's ridiculous. Everyone thinks they're beautiful, but they're so... unpredictable. The way they flutter around, you never know where they're going to go." She laughed at herself. "Told you it was weird."

"It's not weird," Marcus said, and there was something soft in his expression now. "It's honest. I like that about you, you don't pretend to be something you're not."

Their eyes held, and Emma felt that pull again, stronger now.

"Your turn," she said. "Tell me something I don't know."

Marcus was quiet for a moment, then: "I'm terrified of failing Lily. Of not being enough for her, especially without her mother around."

The vulnerability in his voice made Emma's chest ache. "Marcus, you're an amazing father. Anyone can see that."

"I don't know. Sometimes I think I'm too hard on her. Too protective."

"You love her. That's what matters." Emma reached across the table without thinking and touched his hand. "She knows that."

Marcus looked down at their hands, and she felt him tense. But he didn't pull away. His fingers shifted slightly, almost, but not quite, lacing with hers.

"Emma..." His voice was low, warning.

"I know," she whispered. "Friends."

But neither of them moved. Her thumb brushed against his palm, and she felt his sharp intake of breath.

The server arrived with their food, and they pulled apart quickly, the moment broken. But Emma's hand still tingled where they'd touched, and she could see the tension in Marcus's jaw as he picked up his fork.

They ate in silence for a few minutes, but it wasn't uncomfortable. It was anticipation, awareness, the air between them thick with everything they weren't saying.

"This is really good," Emma said finally, needing to break the tension before it consumed her.

"Best seafood on the coast,"

Marcus agreed, but his eyes were on her, not his food.

"Marcus," she said softly. "You're staring."

"I know." He didn't look away. "I shouldn't be."

"But you are."

"But I am."

Emma's heart hammered. "Why?"

He set down his fork, his expression conflicted. "Because you're... because looking at you makes me forget all the reasons I shouldn't."

The admission hung between them, raw and honest.

"Then stop trying to remember them," Emma said, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Emma—"

"Just for tonight. Can we just... be two people having dinner? Not thinking about Lily, or age, or any of it?"

Marcus stared at her for a long moment, and she could see the war playing out in his eyes. Finally, he exhaled slowly.

"One night," he said. "Just tonight."

After that, something shifted. They talked about everything and nothing—books, music, dreams, fears. Marcus told her about his marriage, about how it had fallen apart slowly, about the loneliness that came after. Emma told him about her father leaving when she was young, about the fear of not being enough that still haunted her.

"You're more than enough," Marcus said, his voice fierce. "Don't ever think otherwise."

The way he looked at her made Emma feel seen in a way she never had before. Not as Lily's friend, not as a kid, but as Emma.

As a woman, he wanted to know.

When dinner ended, neither of them wanted to leave. They ordered coffee and dessert they didn't really want, just to stretch out the evening.

Their knees bumped under the table, and neither of them moved away. At one point, Marcus reached across and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, his fingers lingering against her cheek.

"You're making this very difficult," he murmured.

"Good," Emma breathed.

His thumb brushed across her lower lip, and her breath caught.

For a moment, she thought he might kiss her right there, in front of everyone. But then he pulled back, closing his eyes.

"We should go."

The drive home was torturous. Emma was hyper aware of every breath Marcus took, every shift of his body. Once, his hand brushed her thigh as he reached for the gear shift, and electricity shot through her entire body.

When they pulled into the driveway, neither of them moved to get out of the car. The silence stretched, heavy with want.

"Thank you for tonight," Emma said finally. "It was perfect."

"Yeah," Marcus said, his voice rough. "It was."

She turned to look at him and found him already watching her. In the moonlight, his eyes were dark, intense.

"Marcus…"

"I need to tell you something," he interrupted. "And I need you to listen."

Emma nodded, her heart pounding.