I sat with my legs stretched along the length of the couch, my arm resting along its back. Emma was puttering around in the kitchen after having slipped out of her evening wear and opted for a much more comfortable ensemble of T-shirt and sweatpants.

"You and Derik seemed close!" I called from the living room.

She grunted as she began to work the wine opener into the unopened cork of a bottle of merlot. "We just went to school together."

I bobbed my head, not wanting to argue. "Eh... you also worked on the paper together."

Emma frowned up at me before directing her attention—and her scowl—back to the bottle she gripped in her hands. "Yeah," she said as she slowly twisted the cork free. "We had a staff of nearly fifty students. What about it?"

I shrugged and watched as she reached for a wine glass on a nearby shelf. When she did, her shirt rode up just as the waistband of her sweats slunk just below her hip...

"I just didn't know you worked on your university's paper, that's all," I managed.

"Yeah I did for a few years," she said turning back toward the counter where the bottle sat.

I frowned, not understanding. By both their accounts, Emma had reached the status of editor, and by Derik's Emma had been quite well-liked.

"What happened?"

Emma raised the bottle and poured herself a healthy-sized glass. "I went abroad and just didn't pick it back up again."

"Still, Derik seemed to think highly of you."

Emma merely hummed as she re-corked the bottle.

I leaned back against the armrest of the couch watching her.

Emma stood with her hip resting against the counter as she stared out the nearby kitchen. She cradled the bowl of the glass in both her hands, but never drank from it. Instead, she merely gnawed on her lower lip.

"Ems?" I finally asked after a minute or so of silence had gone by.

She startled slightly and looked over at me. "Sorry, did you want some?"

I shook my head and hesitated before asking: "Should we have added honesty as an amendment?"

Emma sighed before taking a long sip of wine and placing the glass carefully back down onto the counter. "He was talking about Rufus."

I frowned in confusion but said nothing, so she continued.

"When he said 'we'... they all know," she explained giving me a pointed look. "They all know what he did and what he tried to do."

Slowly the pieces began to fall into place before me. They, the press core, her fellow reporters and colleagues...

"So why don't any of them say anything, write an article—something! If they're your friends—"

"They can't."

"Why the hell not?"

Emma shrugged, ignoring my growing sense of indignation on her behalf. "Rufus has ties with various bigheads in the publishing world. If any of them ever want a book deal, he could squash it. Besides, it was their editors that decided not to hire me, remember?"

She took another drink and then twirled the remaining contents of her glass. "It doesn't matter now anyway."

I blinked at her wide-eyed. How the bloody hell could it not matter? This had been the whole reason she had moved home, the whole reason we'd been separated!

"And how do you figure that?" I asked, barely containing my disbelief.

A blush suddenly crept over Emma's features. She took another sip before placing her glass back on the counter and grimacing up at me. "You're really going to make me say it?"

"Say what?"

"Celebrities don't make good reporters, Tom."

I laughed—I couldn't help it. Only my Emma could say words 'celebrity' and 'copyediting' with such vehement aversion.

"Well as you kindly reminded me, you were a book reviewer, not a—how'd you put it? Bloody gossip columnist?"

Emma giggled into her glass but quickly sobered with a shake of her head. "Sometimes I just..."

Her eyes drifted to the window again, and this time, instead of letting her drift off into her thoughts, I pushed myself up from the couch and walked to the opposite side of the counter.

"Sometimes you just what?" I pressed.

Emma turned her chin to face me, and I could tell by the intensity of her gaze that she was seriously considering me.

"I just want to bloody scream."

I blinked at the quiet rage of her words.

"Tell the whole world the truth about Rufus. Tell everyone how he tried to blackmail me and tell them how he ruined my professional reputation—which was impeccable, by the way!"

"So why don't you?"

An almost patronizing grin broke out across Emma's angry visage. "He'd sue me for slander and libel before I even got a single word out. Besides, it's not worth it."

I shook my head. "How can you possibly say that?"

Emma leaned across the counter and pushed her fingers through my disheveled hair. "Because I'd rather focus on the future... on our future."

I inhaled sharply at her words, but before I could respond in kind, her phone began to jingle from somewhere across the room.

Emma winked at me before walking off to look for it, eventually finding it buzzing on the coffee table.

"Hey Mum... any news?" She asked confused until her eyes caught sight of the ring on her right hand.

I laughed, perhaps she really was surprised to find it there.

"Oh! No, no no no," she assured her mother emphatically. "Definitely not."

I quietly came up behind her and wrapped my arms tightly around her waist as I tucked my chin into the crook of her neck.

"Not to worry, Mrs. H," I called loudly enough for her mother to hear. "You'll know we're engaged before Emma does seeing as I'll be asking your permission first, of course."

Her mother's voice paused before chirping back through the line: "But didn't Emma tell you, I already gave her my—"

"Good night, Mum!" Emma practically shouted before ending the call and tossing her phone onto the couch.

She stood frozen in my arms, so I carefully lowered my hands to her hips and turned her to face me. "Emma..."

She closed her eyes and shook her head adamantly. "Nothing! I have no idea what she's talking about."

My smile grew sevenfold. "Emma..."

"It has nothing to do with—"

My hands slid to the tender spot just below her waist and squeezed causing Emma to squeal as she crumpled into my chest. She squirmed and gasped against me as I continued to tickle her until we both collapsed on the couch. I turned on my back and wrapped Emma securely in my arms as we landed with a muffled thud onto the cushions.

"Mrs.—" I began to tease her, but Emma immediately cut me off.

"Ms. Henderson," she asserted rather forcefully. "Changing my name wasn't part of our contract."

I smiled against her ear. "Whatever you say, dear."

"I mean it!" She moved to sit up, but I pulled her more tightly into me. "I'm not changing my name, Tom."

"You don't have to," I murmured as my fingers began to trail just underneath the hem of her shirt. "You can choose to do whatever you want when we get married."

"If we get married," Emma countered. "And—"

I turned her face toward me and pressed my lips against hers. She opened her mouth slightly and my tongue happily obliged.

We were both breathing heavily when finally broke apart. Emma rested her forehead on my shoulder as my hands made lazy circles up and down her back.

"You knew which finger I intended that ring to be on," I murmured into the comfortable silence.

"Then maybe you should've asked properly..."

I pulled my chin back to better look at her. "Would you like me to?"

Emma's body immediately tensed beneath my hands. I sighed and kissed the top of her head reassuringly.

"Don't worry, Ems. I won't surprise you with a proposal... just yet."