Chapter 9 - Awakenings
Three days later, the private recovery suite on the top floor of the hospital was flooded with warm afternoon sunshine. Boston Harbor sparkled through the large windows under a clear, crisp autumn sky.
Nathaniel lay propped up against the pillows, hooked to monitors, but the healthy color had returned to his face. His hair was slightly disheveled, making him look younger, softer, and impossibly handsome.
Sitting in the armchair beside his bed, Emma was sound asleep, her head resting against the edge of the mattress, her fingers loosely curled around his hand.
Nathaniel looked down at her, a profound, tender warmth softening the hard lines of his face. He gently squeezed her fingers.
Emma stirred, blinking against the bright sunlight. The moment her eyes focused and met his, she sat bolt upright.
“Nathaniel!”
“Hey,” he rasped, his voice rough from disuse, but carrying that deep, commanding cadence she knew so well.
“You’re awake,” she breathed, rising from the chair and leaning over him, her hands gently framing his face. “How do you feel? Are you in pain? Do you need the doctor?”
“I feel like I got hit by a freight train,” he murmured, lifting his hand to cover hers against his cheek. “And I don't need a doctor. I just need you to stop crying.”
Emma sniffled, wiping an angry tear away. “I am not crying. I am furious with you. You almost died, you arrogant idiot!”
Nathaniel smiled, a genuine, beautiful smile that completely transformed his face. “You held my hand for seventy-two hours, Emma. Dean told me you refused to leave the room, refused to eat, and threatened to fire the chief of surgery if he didn't check my vitals every twenty minutes.”
“I had to protect my investment,” she countered playfully, though her voice cracked with emotion. “Who else is going to pay for my mother’s facility?”
Nathaniel’s expression turned deeply serious. He reached under his pillow, pulling out a small, heavy velvet box he had instructed Dean to retrieve from his penthouse safe the night before.
“Emma,” he said softly, his thumb caressing the velvet. “Your mother’s facility is permanently endowed in Kane Maritime's charitable trust. It’s done. Irrevocable. Even if you walk away from me right now, she is taken care of for the rest of her life.”
Emma froze, looking from the box to his eyes. “Why would you do that?”
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“Because I never want you to stay with me because you have to,” Nathaniel said, his voice thick with raw vulnerability. “I don't want a contract between us, Emma. I don't want extortion. I want you to choose me. Freely. Without fear.”
He flipped the box open. Resting on the white satin was a breathtaking, flawless emerald-cut diamond ring, sparkling brilliantly in the Boston sunlight.
