The Forbidden Throb (Emma and Daniel) novel Chapter 70

Chapter 70

Emma’s POV:

Something warm unfurled in my chest–simple, uncomplicated affection.

I hit the call button before I could overthink it.

“Emma, sweetheart!” Her voice carried that particular warmth. “I was just thinking about you. How’s my girl?”

Unemployed. Uncertain. Strangely relieved.

The truth hovered on my tongue, but I swallowed it back. Grandma didn’t need to know about the messy parts

when the ending was already clean.

“I’m good,” I said, forcing brightness into my tone. “Just finished up some things at work. How are you feeling?”

“Oh, you know me. Tough as old leather.” She laughed–that familiar sound like wind chimes on the porch.

After exchanging pleasantries, grandmother’s voice brightened with delight.

“Oh, and thank you so much for those wonderful chocolates and nuts! The Belgian ones are absolutely divine, and

those honey–roasted almonds… you always know exactly what I love.”

My heart skipped. “Chocolates? Grandma, I-”

“Daniel said you picked them out yourself. Such a thoughtful granddaughter I have!”

Heat flooded my face–not quite embarrassment, but something closer to shame. I hadn’t sent anything.

Daniel remembered. When I forgot.

“Emma? You still there, sweetheart?”

I swallowed hard. “Yes, I’m here. I’m just… glad you liked them. But I… I didn’t actually pick those out.”

A pause. Then her laugh, warm and knowing.

‘Well! Looks like that husband of yours pulled a fast one on me.”

There was no anger in her voice, only gentle amusement. Though I suppose I should have guessed. Those

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Chapter 70

macadamias–he’s the one who heard me mention them at lunch that day.”

I ducked my head even though she couldn’t see me, staring at my lap like a child caught in a lie. “I’m sorry, I

should have-

“Emma, sweetheart, you’re married now. What’s his is yours, what’s yours is his. Doesn’t matter whose idea it was

-it came from both of you. That’s what marriage means.”

“Besides,” Grandma continued, her tone turning conspiratorial, “between you and me, I think it’s rather sweet. He

could have taken the credit, but he made sure I knew it was our thoughtfulness.

I exhaled slowly, the tension in my shoulders easing just slightly. “As long as you like them, Grandma. That’s what

matters.”

“Like them? Sweetheart, I’ve been treating those chocolates like gold bars.”

Her voice brightened. “Though I did share a few with Mrs. Patterson next door–you should have seen her face

when I told her about Daniel! I swear, Emma, she turned the most interesting shade of purple.”

Despite everything, I found myself smiling.

“She actually said, ‘Grace, your granddaughter certainly knows how to pick them.” Grandma’s laugh turned

conspiratorial. “I told her Daniel picked you, thank you very much. That you’re the prize, not him.”

I could picture it perfectly–Grandma in her kitchen, carefully arranging Belgian chocolates on her good china,

Mrs. Patterson’s eyes narrowing with barely concealed envy.

The small, petty victories of small–town life.

After we said our goodbyes, I sat on the park bench outside the office building for a long moment, phone still

warm in my hand though the call had ended.

Around me, Boston moved with its usual indifferent efficiency–colleagues streaming out for lunch breaks, a street vendor calling out about fresh pretzels, pigeons pecking at scattered crumbs near my feet.

I thought of Nicholas, who’d never remembered whether I took sugar in my coffee. Of Mom, who couldn’t recall which semester I’d graduate.

Of all the people who saw me as background noise in their own stories.

And then Daniel, who somehow noticed everything without seeming to try.

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Chapter 70

I let out a slow breath, tipping my head back against the bench.

The sun was warm on my face, but inside, something shifted–like ice cracking beneath careful footsteps.

I’m in trouble.

The thought arrived with startling clarity. This was supposed to be simple–a transaction, an arrangement that

benefited us both.

But somewhere between his quiet attentiveness and those macadamia nuts I’d never thought to send, the lines

had started to blur. And I wasn’t sure I knew how to stop it.

You’re losing this battle, Emma.

My phone buzzed in my hand, shattering the moment. Daniel’s name appeared on the screen.

My heart stumbled. I forced myself to breathe normally before answering.

“Hey.”

“How did it go?” His voice was quiet, careful. Present in a way that made my chest feel too small. “Everything

okay?”

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I glanced at the cardboard box sitting at the other end of the bench. “It’s done. All handled.”

“I’m finishing up here,” he said finally. “Let me come get you. Where are you?”

I looked up at the building behind me, at the revolving doors I’d walked through for the last time. “Outside the

paper. The park across the street.”

“Twenty minutes.”

The line went dead before I could argue.

I stared at the phone in my hand, a new thought settling. I need to get my driver’s license.

The black Mercedes pulled up exactly nineteen minutes later.

I grabbed the cardboard box and slid into the passenger seat, the familiar scent of leather and Daniels subtle

cologne wrapping around me.

Daniel reached into the back seat and produced a paper bag with the logo of that upscale deli near the hospital.

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Chapter 70

“Here. You should eat something first.”

I looked at the bag, then up at him.

Why does he have to be like this?

If he kept being this considerate, I wasn’t going to be able to control my own heart much longer.

A

The careful preparation, the thoughtfulness of it–something in my chest pulled tight. “Thank you, Daniel. Really.”

He glanced at me, one eyebrow lifting slightly. “It’s just a sandwich, Emma. You don’t need to sound like I

performed surgery.”

“It’s not just the food.” I set the bag on my lap, my fingers smoothing the paper. “And the chocolates you sent to

Grandma. What you did for me about James.” I met his eyes. “All of it.”

His expression shifted–something I couldn’t quite read passing across his features before settling into that

familiar, composed mask. But his voice, when he spoke, was quieter than usual.

“And how exactly are you planning to thank me?”

The question hung between us, loaded with something I didn’t quite understand.

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well, just do it!

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