Chapter 10 - The Answer That Changed
A year after Emma came home through that airport, her flight was delayed again.
She sent me a photograph of the departure board.
Three hours. I am becoming a terrible person.
I replied immediately.
Too late. I’m already emotionally committed.
She sent a rude emoji.
Then a heart.
I reached the arrivals hall early.
Old habits.
Above me, the glowing sign cast the same unflattering light across the railing where I had waited a year before.
A lot had changed.
The bakery had hired two more people.
One of the rear kitchens was operating as a licensed shared space, with the second planned for the following spring.
Rosa claimed retirement every Thursday and withdrew the announcement every Friday.
Daniel had started dating a high school counselor named Leah, who could stop one of his speeches with a single raised eyebrow.
Emma loved her.
So did I.
My phone buzzed.
Landed. Don’t look so happy about it.
I smiled down at the screen.
Then I checked the small box in my coat pocket for approximately the hundredth time.
I had thought about proposing in the bakery.
Or at the lake.
Or during dinner somewhere with candles and waiters capable of looking pleased without looking nosy.
But every version had felt like a performance.
Here, once, Emma had asked me a question I couldn’t hide behind a joke.
I wanted to answer it properly.
She appeared through the sliding doors pulling a blue suitcase.
Her hair was loose.
Her jacket was unzipped.
She looked tired and beautiful and mildly prepared to fight the entire airline industry.
“You’re early,” she said.
“You’re late.”
“Take it up with weather.”
I took her suitcase.
She released it immediately.
“Character development,” I said.
“Don’t get used to it.”
Then she kissed me in the middle of the arrivals hall, and a man behind us rolled his suitcase around our feet with theatrical patience.
“Sorry,” Emma told him.
“I’m not,” I said.
She laughed.
We bought hot chocolate at the same café.
The table beside the window was empty.
Outside, rain streaked the glass.
Emma settled into her chair and sighed.
“Tell me something good.”
“Rosa’s daughter got the wholesale contract.”
She brightened.
“That’s wonderful.”
“And Daniel tried making dinner for Leah.”
“Emergency services?”
“Standby only.”
Emma wrapped her hands around the cup.
I watched her.
“What?” she asked.
“Are you happy?”
She tilted her head.
“That’s my line.”
“I borrowed it.”
She looked through the window.
Then back at me.
“Yes,” she said. “Not every second. Some days are hard.”
“I know.”
“But yes. I like who I am when I wake up. I like the work I’m doing. I like that somebody knows whether I had a good day.”
My throat tightened.
She smiled.
“What about you?”
I reached into my pocket.
Her eyes followed my hand.
For once, Emma Carter had absolutely nothing to say.
I put the box on the table.
“I’m happy,” I told her. “And I want a lifetime of finding out how your day went.”
Her eyes filled.
“Ryan.”
“I want the delayed flights. The arguments about paint. The grocery lists. I want you to tell me when I’m hiding and expect me to listen.”
I opened the box.
“Will you marry me?”
She laughed through her tears.
“Yes, you idiot.”
Six months later, we married in the station courtyard.
Daniel stood beside me.
Emma walked toward us in a simple dress, carrying flowers tied with a ribbon from my mother’s recipe binder.
Rosa made the cake.
It leaned a little.
Nobody cared.
During the vows, Emma squeezed my hands.
“You once told me your jacket wasn’t a marriage proposal.”
“I was building suspense.”
Our guests laughed.
Then her expression softened.
“You remembered all the little things.”
I looked at the woman I had loved before I knew how to say it.
“I always will.”
Later, after dinner, we danced beneath the courtyard lights.
The bakery windows glowed behind her.
Our families argued over leftover cake.
And when Emma rested her head against my chest, I finally stopped counting the years we had missed.
We had found each other.
May you like
There was music playing.
I held my wife closer and stayed."
