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“You never did answer my question.”
Emma strokes the tendons in Alex’s hand, as his arm lies in the indent of her waist and his warmth seeps through her back. She watches as his thumb lifts up and traps her index finger, and she smiles as they finger wrestle.
“What question was that?” he replies. He takes her hand and enfolds it in his, their fingers now entwined. Emma just gazes at their joined hands for a moment, enjoying the contrast: his fingers, blunt and slightly tanned, the tips callused, hair darkening the middle and last joints. Her hands seem small in contrast, her nails bright red and expertly manicured, pretty and feminine and meticulous.
“Today, after Frank said that you wouldn’t have made a move unless he hadn’t made you jealous. Were you jealous?”
She knows how jealous she felt after Harriet confessed her love for Alex to her, that day that seems so long ago now. Then, Emma had felt her chest constrict and her stomach roil as Harriet talked of how kind and intelligent and perfect Alex was, and Emma had only just stopped herself from telling Harriet to leave, to stop talking about Alex like that, because he was not Harriet’s, he was Emma’s. Had always been her Alex—even if she hadn’t known until that moment.
Alex sighs behind her, ruffling her hair slightly. “Does it matter?” he counters. He is, she knows, not particularly inclined to discuss his feelings at length. Alex is an action-oriented man: he gives her flowers, kisses her, trails his fingers down her arm, gives her looks that make her feel warm, but after his initial confession, he didn’t speak further of his emotions. Emma knows he loves her. She doesn’t doubt that. But she remains curious, wondering when Alex realized his feelings.
“Well, if it makes you feel better, I was jealous,” Emma replies. Right after she says it, she winces, wishing she'd said nothing.
Alex laughs in surprise. “You? Why? Jealous of who?” He sounds incredulous and mystified. Emma rolls her eyes before flipping over to face him, unlinking their hands. Emma sighs, not wanting to talk about Harriet, but knowing Alex won't let it drop.
Alex raises his brows. “Is this about Harriet?”
Emma raises her brows now. “Did you know—?”
“No,” Alex replies, “but I suspected Harriet may have had a crush on me. I was glad to hear that it didn’t last long.” Alex frowns then, a new thought taking hold. “Are you sure it’s okay to tell me about this?”
“Harriet said that it was okay if I told you, but to make sure to reiterate that she was not the least bit in love with you any more.” Emma smiles, patting Alex’s cheek. “Apparently you are easily forgotten, Mr. Knightley.”
Alex laughs again. “You didn’t answer my question,” he says, eyeing Emma with that look that makes her want to squirm. “Were you jealous of Harriet?”
Emma sighs deeply and dramatically, wishing she hadn’t brought it up, but knowing that Alex won’t let it go until she’s honest. “Harriet came to me to tell me she was interested in someone,” Emma begins, her voice a little hesitant. She’s still embarrassed at how blind she was for so long, not realizing how in love she—a lifestyle coach—was with her best friend. “I thought she was in love with Frank—”
“What?”
“Stop interrupting, Mr. Knightley.” Alex just gives her that look, but she ignores it. “But when I realized she was talking about you, not Frank, I felt sick. I couldn’t believe it.” Emma laughs a little, the sound bitter. “I even tried to convince her you were just being nice to her, but after she said that she had reasons to believe you liked her…”
“Emma,” Alex says softly. He cups her face, his look tender, all traces of judgment gone.
Emma continues on, her voice breaking. “But when she talked about how you’d been paying attention to her, I knew, I knew…” She takes a deep breath, grasping his wrist to keep him close. “I knew you’d never lead a girl on. That if you showed interest, it was genuine.” Emma looks up into his eyes, eyes that are soft and brown and kind. “And I thought then: you were lost to me. And I couldn’t bear it.”
Alex leans in, their foreheads touching for a moment, both of them just silently touching. He then takes her hand again, intertwining their fingers as he lifts away from her. “And so you thought I was in love with Harriet?”
“Stupid, right?” But Emma’s voice quavers at the memory, of how close she came to losing Alex.
“Not stupid,” he just says in reply. And now he’s tracing her knuckles, not looking her in the eye. “I thought you were in love with Frank. And it killed me. That’s why I left: not because of Boxx, but because I thought that his influence had not only changed you but made you in love with him.” Alex sighs.
Emma snuggles closer to him, her head now on his shoulder. “We were both idiots, I guess.”
“I should’ve spoken earlier,” Alex says. “I can’t tell you the exact moment I was in love with you, but I knew that I had feelings for you when Frank came around.” Smiling wryly, Alex adds, “So you could say that Frank was sort of right: I was jealous of him, of his paying you attention. But he wasn’t what made me tell you how I felt.”
Emma just gazes at him, her heart beating quickly. She doesn’t want to talk about Frank, but she fears that if she says the wrong thing, Alex will stop talking, stop speaking honestly about his feelings for her. So she just waits for him to continue, knowing that he’ll speak when he’s ready, when he has the words he needs.
“Although now that I think about it, it was probably the night of Senator Elton and Caroline’s engagement party. When you came into the office, looking so beautiful in that dress, I was so stunned that I could hardly breathe. And then one day I just realized what I felt for you.” He pauses, gathering his thoughts. “After that, I watched you, wondering if I had a chance. I waited to see when I could speak, but it got to the point that I had to tell you because I was—am—so in love with you that if I spent one more day without speaking I didn’t think I could survive."
Alex laughs then. “Dramatic, I know. But true. So when I learned about Frank and Jane I knew then that I had to see if I could at least get you to consider loving me. I could wait for you, if I just knew that I had a chance in hell of winning you.”
Emma, her heart full, reaches up and kisses him because she can’t speak anyway. She never knew the depths of this man’s feelings, feelings for her. As she flirted and joked with Frank for days and weeks and months, there Alex was, always taking care of her and teasing her and making her be the best she could be and all that time he’d been in love with her and she’d no idea.
So she kisses him and he responds and kisses her back and suddenly she finds herself on her back, Alex above her. He cradles her face as he kisses her, like she’s precious, and she wants to cry because she loves him so much it hurts. And then Alex kisses her cheeks and her nose and her eyelids and her jaw and she melts.
He lifts away from her and they just gaze at each other for a few beats. “I love you, Mr. Knightley,” Emma says softly. Then she smiles. “Thank you for waiting for me to get a clue.”
Trailing his hand up her tank, Alex smiles in return. “I forgive you.” Before she can swat him away, he kisses her. It’s a kiss of promises, of forever, of adoration and love and Emma barely hears him when he says in a whisper, “I will always wait for you, you know.” He takes her hand as she closes her eyes, just feeling his warmth. “Always, Emma Woodhouse.”