Page 137 of Take It Offline

TRUST. HOPE. LOVE.

EMMA

The moment Charlie walked in, my breath left my lungs. In fact, my soul may have departed my body as well, because for a series of long, drawn-out seconds, I can’t move.

Logan ceases to exist (Charlie has that effect), and as the awe, relief, and sheer thrill of having the love of my life once again within reach sinks in, knowing what it means and—touching my watch again—knowing what he’s done for me, I let him talk.

Let him run his mouth as he always does. He needs to, and I’ve earned it. With every word he says, I only want more, more, more.

“Say it again.”

There’s no hesitation. “I love you.”

“Again.”

A dimple appears. “I love you.”

“Again.”

He’s smiling wildly now, his blue eyes bright, and I twist my hand in his tie to pull him closer to me.

“I’ll keep saying it, as many times as you want. I’m not going anywhere, and I’m only going to love you more the longer we’re together.”

“And the rest?” I ask.

“Are you asking me to beg, sweetheart?” And oh, there’s the cocky man I know and love. Between that smirk and that single raised brow, he looks all too pleased, even when I tug harder on his tie. “I’ll do it. Let me be yours in every way that you’re already mine.”

And, oh.Oh.

I teeter in my heels, his plea hitting me like vertigo.

I’ve never thought of love as the merging of two halves, and I’ve never liked the idea of being less than whole. With Charlie, it’s so much more than that.

He’s been meeting me, matching me, since the day we met.

He’s it for me. For the rest of my life, I want to experience everything with him by my side. I want to be loved by him in every way, to give myself over to him, to have him on his knees, by my side, for as long as possible. Longer.

Forever.

CHAPTER 48

I HAVE THE KEY TO YOUR HEART (AND OTHER VITAL ORGANS)

EMMA

Good standards should be easily understood and even easier to implement. Ideally, they should be system agnostic (hello, future-proofing), and not—let’s say—scrutinized for every available loophole,Charlie.

Good instructions are clear, concise, and specific.

Where to click and when, what to expect next, how to triage an issue.

The best kind of instructions aren’t instructions at all, but a mutual understanding of what is needed, to be followed with care and without prompting.

That’s precisely what life is like with Charlie.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” I balance the phone between my ear and shoulder as I toe off my heels, then sink into the couch. “I can come over.”

“No, don’t,” Ivy says. “I’m still a little shell-shocked, but I’ve had all day to think about it, and I’m happy. We knew they’d have to choose someone, and I’m glad it was me and not you.”

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