The Forbidden Throb (Emma and Daniel) novel Chapter 54

Chapter 54

Emma’s POV:

I stood at the sink longer than necessary, watching soap bubbles slide down the ceramic in slow motion.

After washing the last plate, I dried it carefully with a clean towel and placed it in the cabinet with meticulous precision. Everything back in its proper place, the kitchen restored to its previous immaculate state.

Only then did I allow myself to head back to my room.

The guest room welcomed me with a soft glow from the bedside lamp I’d left on.

It was smaller than the master suite, but still more spacious than any bedroom I’d ever had–decorated in muted grays and creams, with sheer curtains that filtered the city lights into something gentle and dreamlike.

This afternoon. I’d spent hours unpacking and organizing everything I’d brought. My textbooks now lined the small bookshelf. My few framed photos were arranged on the dresser.

My clothes hung in the spacious closet, looking sparse against all that empty space.

Seeing my things settled in their places stirred something unexpected in my chest. A small, tentative sense of belonging.

My room, I thought, the words feeling a little less foreign now.

When I finished a shower, I slipped into the silk pajamas Daniel prepared for me. The fabric whispered against my skin, foreign and luxurious in a way that made me hyperaware of my own body.

The bed was enormous. King–sized, with linens in a soft blush pink.

Where does he find the time? The energy?

In that impossibly narrow window, he’d managed to prepare an entire room. Not just functional, but thoughtful. Personal, even.

I slipped between the sheets, expecting the sterile coolness of new bedding.

Instead, I was hit by a wave of scent.

Oh.

Mint and citrus. That distinctive scent of Daniel’s, subtle but unmistakable.

As if he’s right here beside me..

It wasn’t just the pillows—it was everywhere. The sheets, the towels in the bathroom, even the silk pajamas against my skin. Everything curced traces of it.

The laundry detergent, the body wash, the shampoo in the shower all his choices, his preferences.

If I stayed long enough, I’d probably start smelling like this too. The thought was oddly mortifying like being pickled in someone else’s essence, absorbed

into their world until you couldn’t tell where they ended and you began.

9:26 am

Chapter 54

ppp.

I slapped my own cheeks lightly, the sting grounding me back to reality.

This was dangerous territory.

Focus on something else. Anything else.

I reached for my phone on the nightstand, desperate for distraction.

10

The screen lit up with notifications I’d been ignoring all evening. Instagram updates from people I barely knew. A reminder about an upcoming assignment deadline.

And then, buried in my email, a message from Jane Morrison.

My former supervisor from the summer internship at the Boston Observer, the local paper where I’d spent three months fact–checking articles and fetching coffee.

Jane had been kind to me, patient with my nervous questions, and had written me a glowing recommendation letter when the internship ended.

I stared at Jane’s name on the screen, curious why she’d be reaching out now.

I tapped the email open.

Hi Emma, Hope you’re doing well! We’re in a bit of a bind at the office and remembered what a lifesaver you were during your last stint with us. Any chance you’d be interested in some work? It’s mostly writing and editing–nothing too demanding, pretty flexible hours. Let me know if you have bandwidth–we’d love to have you back!

The timestamp showed she’d sent it three hours ago.

My fingers moved before my conscious mind caught up, typing out a response.

Hi Jane, I’d love to help out. I have some availability starting this week. Let me know what you need.

It was time to get things back on track. The medical journalism fellowship didn’t start for another three weeks–plenty of time to take on some freelance work.

Keep myself busy. Keep myself useful.

I set the phone aside and slid back down into the pillows, pulling the duvet up to my chin.

The scent enveloped me again.

I closed my eyes, trying to will myself toward sleep.

The dream came in fragments, the way dreams do.

“I stood in the doorway of Robert Williams colonial house in the Boston suburbs. My arms ached from carrying boxes, three enormous suitcases clustered around my feet.

Grandma had insisted I bring so much–jars of her homemade preserves, packages of specialty tea, a hand–embroidered tablecloth she’d spent weeks making. For your new family,” she’d said, pressing them into my hands. So they will like you.

9:27 amp pp

Chapter 54

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