LOGINDominic's POV
Emma notices it before I do. She opens the bedroom window before she leaves for her shift and the air that comes in is different, lighter, and she stands at it for a moment before she goes. I watch her from the bed. She doesn't know I'm awake. She has her coat over her arm and her bag on her shoulder and she's just standing at the open window breathing the changed air and her expression is the one shDominic’s POVNobody argues with me.That should have been my first warning.Usually, when I make a decision while angry, Marcus argues.Emma argues.Mrs. Kowalski definitely argues.This time, nobody says a word.Emma rises from her chair and walks toward me.Her hand slides into mine.“Don’t go there looking for a fight.”I look at her.“I’m not.”She raises an eyebrow.We both know that’s a lie.“Dominic.”“I’m going for answers.”“You can get answers without declaring war.”Marcus snorts into his coffee.I ignore him.Emma squeezes my hand.“Promise me you’ll listen before you react.”“I’ll listen.”“That’s not what I asked.”I sigh.“I’ll try.”She studies me for a second.Then she nods.It’s the best she’s getting.An hour later,
Emma’s POVFor a second, I can’t breathe.The sounds of the city fade into the background.Cars.People.Traffic.Everything disappears.I stare at Dominic.“How?”His jaw tightens.“I don’t know yet.”“What does that mean?”“It means Marcus hasn’t seen the entire filing.”His hand remains wrapped around mine.Firm.Steady.Like he’s afraid I’ll disappear if he lets go.“We need to get home,” he says.The drive back to the penthouse is silent.Not because we don’t want to talk.Because neither of us knows what to say.The twins are asleep at home with their nanny.Our wedding is four weeks away.Lily is finally healthy.For the first time in years, everything was beginning to feel stable.Now Raymond is trying to destroy it.Again.By the time
Emma’s POVThe dress shop smells faintly of lavender and expensive fabric.Dominic keeps his promise.Mostly.He waits outside.For exactly seven minutes.Then I catch his reflection in the front window pretending to study a display of handbags while very obviously checking whether I’m still alive.Mrs. Kowalski, who somehow invited herself along after overhearing our plans, follows my gaze and snorts.“He’s terrible at pretending.”“I know.”“He has been pacing.”“It’s been seven minutes.”“He started pacing at minute two.”I laugh despite myself.The consultant helping me smiles.“The fiancé?”The word lands softly.Not shocking anymore.Not frightening.Just true.“Yes,” I say.The answer still feels new.Wonderful.Mine.The consultant leads me toward another fitting room.I’ve already rejected six dresses.One looked too formal.One felt too young.One made me look like a decorative cake topper.Mrs. Kowalski hated that one almost as much as I did.“This one,” she says now, thrus
Dominic's POVWe mail the letter at eight fifteen.Emma holds it until the last second, standing at the post box on the corner of Clement, and then she lets it go with the specific expression of someone releasing something they've been carrying for a long time. Not grief. Something cleaner than grief.Done."Okay," she says."Okay," I say.We walk to the Japanese place.The chef sees us through the window before we're in the door and by the time we sit the tea is already coming and he's nodding at Emma with recognition and she nods back and I watch this small exchange and think about all the ways she makes herself known to people without trying.She just shows up consistently and pays attention and eventually she's someone the chef starts the tea for.That's it. That's the whole of it.I've been watching her do this for months and it still strik
Emma's POV Four weeks out I start having a recurring thought I can't shake. Not anxiety. Not cold feet. Just this quiet persistent awareness that something is still unfinished. Something I need to do before I walk into that library and stand beside Dominic and say the words. It takes me three days to identify what it is. My mother. Not to invite her. She left when Lily was six and I was nine and the last address I had was eight years old and probably wrong. Not to reconcile. There's nothing to reconcile because reconciliation requires two people who both want the thing. Just to know I tried. I don't tell Dominic immediately. I sit with it for two days first, testing whether it's real or whether it's the pregnancy making me sentimental about things that don't deserve sentiment. By Thursday I'm certain it's real and I find him
Emma's POVTuesday I tell Celeste, not about the wedding. About the tart variation first because that's what she asked for and Celeste operates on the principle that professional things come before personal ones in professional spaces.I present both concepts. The lavender honey and the blood orange version. She tastes the lavender from Sunday's test and goes quiet in the focused way that means she's actually evaluating."The base shatters," she says."Yes.""The lavender is restrained.""Twelve minutes exactly."She sets the fork down. "Both on the menu. I want the blood orange tested by next Friday.""Done."She looks at me. "Now tell me the other thing."I look at the counter. "Six weeks."The kitchen behind us does its sounds. Someone running water. The morning prep.Celeste is completely still."Six
Emma's POVlast week of February I finished my course. Not the certification exam, that's in March, but the coursework itself. The final portfolio submission goes in on a Wednesday morning and I close my laptop and sit at the kitchen island and feel the strange lightness of something that has
Dominic's POVEmma works the morning shift. The patisserie is at full capacity and she leaves at six thirty with her hair still damp and comes home at two with flour on her collarbone and the satisfied exhaustion of someone who has done exactly what they're good at for six hours str
Emma's POVCeleste runs the kitchen like a military operation the first two weeks of the month. Every station has a purpose, every hour has an output target, and she walks the line twice a day with the expression of someone who will not be accepting excuses.I love it.
Dominic's POVThe week after the biopsy results the weather turns brutal.January in New York doing what January does, single digits and wind that makes the city feel hostile to human presence. Emma starts wearing a coat I've never seen before, enormous and green, that







