“How are you?” Connor asked earnestly. He studied her eyes and bit his lip as if concerned.
It wasn’t glib small talk; Emerson could tell the difference. “Not the greatest twenty-four hours of my life, not the absolute worst, but close.”
Connor put his arm along the back of the sofa. If she leaned into the cushion, his fingertips would be able to reach the ends of her hair. She loved when he played with it while they watched TV together.
“I’m sorry. For all of it. I confronted my dad this morning.”
While she hadn’t had any expectations of how their conversation would go, she hadn’t expected that. “What did he say?”
“He confirmed what you found out. It was never really about the distillery, it was always about your mom. He loved her, even though it was unrequited. More than he loved my mom. I think that’s why their marriage failed. My mom is an incredible woman, but she wasn’t the person my dad wanted to be with. My father was desperately unhappy.”
Emerson’s stomach flipped. “That’s so sad, for everyone involved.”
Connor shrugged. “Perhaps. Your mom married who she was meant to. Mom’s happy with Derek, and he’s the right guy for her. It’s just Dad.”
He reached for her hand, laid his fingers on hers, and the buzz of connection was just as strong as ever. “Fuck, I’m sorry.” He pulled his fingers away again. “It’s just…you’re here, which I am so fucking relieved about. And the last time you were here, it was the night we went to dinner, and we came back here, and…well. It’s like memory and habit and…I just want to hold you, and I want you to hold me back. And I wish I could go back to the beginning, to the airplane, and start this all off differently.” Connor leaned forward and placed his head in his hands before running his fingers through his hair. “I resigned today.”
Emerson, still reeling from his emotional outburst, couldn’t hold in her surprise. “What? Why would you do that? I hope you didn’t do it for me?”
Connor shook his head. “No, I did it for me, Em. Well, mostly for me. And some for us. Spending time with you, getting to know you, and Jake and Liv, and what you do at the distillery, I realized I’d never really gotten to build something from the ground up. I’d been programmed since birth that I was going to take over the family business, but unlike you and Jake and Liv, I’d never been asked if I actually wanted to. It had always been assumed.”
Connor got up and paced along the blue rug he’d made love to her on so thoroughly only days before.
“And then my father decided he was going to stay on for another five years, and my uncle showed his true colors because it was him who sent you that document. And I could have stood and fought for the company to be better, but I couldn’t find the energy. I’d lost respect for my dad, and even if I got what was mine, then what? I’d be running a company I wasn’t passionate about. Not like you are when you talk about your work.”
Emerson huffed. “Hardly. I’ve been bouncing from one catastrophe to the next since we met.”
Connor came back to the sofa, sitting so close their knees and thighs touched. This time he did grab her hands, holding them firmly in his. “But don’t you see, Em? You held on with Liv and Jake. You found a way. You picked yourselves up. And together, you’re working on a way out. Because you care. Because you’re damn good at what you do. I fucking admire that.”
His words hit her firmly in the chest.
Had his actions been reckless? Yes.
But had they really done any harm? No. Not to her or to the distillery.
And he cared for her, passionately. He respected her. He recognized her need to rebuild Dyer’s. To protect Liv and Jake. She inspired him. He accepted her fully, as she was, slightly flawed, still learning, still a work-in-progress.
Before she could stop herself, Emerson leaned into him and their lips met furiously. Connor’s hands slid to her face, into her hair, holding her in place as his tongued explored hers.
“Fuck, Em,” he gasped, before kissing her again. “I’m so sorry.”
How had she thought she could live without this in her life? How had she considered that she could let a man who held her in such high regard go?
“Wait,” Connor said, his voice straining as he placed his hands on her shoulders and gently pushed her away. “As much as I want to fucking devour you, I can’t until I know this is all squared away. Make-up sex and break-up sex are two decidedly different things, and I need to know which it is we’re about to have.”
Emerson bit down the smile that threatened. “It’s make-up sex, Connor. But you’re right. There are still things we need to discuss.”
Connor ran a hand through his hair. “Thank fuck for that, Em.” He took hold of her hand and pressed a kiss to the back of it.
All of her insides were churned up. And she banked the need to slide her fingers beneath the waistband of his jeans. “You said you quit. What do you intend to do now?”
Connor’s eyes were hooded as he looked at her, his chest inflating and deflating at a rate far faster than normal. She was glad he was as breathless as she was. “I’m fortunate to have time to figure that out,” he said, finally. “I have savings, a decent network, some active investments that pay monthly. It’s not enough for the long-term, but it means I can be selective. I think I need to take my time and decide.”
“And your father knows there’s no way on this green earth that I’ll
