The Forbidden Throb Chapter 32

Emma's POV:

The question hung in the air like a held breath.

*Why Emma?*

My fingers curled into the fabric of my sweater, nails digging into my palms beneath the wool.

*We should have planned this. *

I glanced at Daniel, expecting to see the same panic that was coursing through my veins.

But he looked utterly composed—calm, even. As if Grandma had asked him about the weather rather than the foundation of our entire fabricated relationship.

Daniel didn't rush to answer. He set down his teacup with careful precision, the fine china making the softest clink against the saucer.

Then he turned to Grandma, and something in his expression shifted. Softened.

"The truth is," he began, his voice quiet but clear, "I noticed Emma a long time ago."

My breath caught.

"It actually goes back much further than you might think," Daniel continued, his gaze shifting briefly to me before returning to Grandma. "Many years ago, I came to Portland to relax. One evening, I decided to walk along the waterfront to clear my head."

"I met a girl on the beach," he said quietly. "She was sitting near the old pier, sketching something in a notebook. When she saw I was alone, she came over and started talking to me—just casual conversation at first. But then she noticed it was my birthday."

My fingers went cold against the teacup.

"She insisted on celebrating," Daniel's voice had taken on something softer, almost tender. "Pulled out this slightly crushed cupcake she'd been saving from some bakery in town, stuck a piece of driftwood in it like a candle."

"She sang 'Happy Birthday' completely off-key."

He paused, and something flickered across his face—a vulnerability I hadn't seen before.

"But it was the first birthday I'd ever actually celebrated," Daniel said quietly. "The first time someone had sung to me, made me feel like the day mattered. "

*Oh god.*

He was spinning an entire romantic origin story out of thin air—and from the way Grandma was leaning forward, her eyes soft with emotion, she was believing every word.

"But why didn't you..." Grandma's voice trailed off, her hand moving to rest gently on Daniel's arm. "Why didn't you reach out to her again? Find her?"

Daniel's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. "I did look for her. It took me a while, but I eventually found out who she was."

He paused, and when he continued, his voice had gone quieter. "By then, she was already with Nicholas. And I wasn't going to interfere with that—not when the whole family was invested in seeing it work out."

He glanced at me again, something unreadable flickering behind his glasses. "I figured if it was meant to be, if they were genuinely happy, then all I could do was wish them well from the sidelines."

The air seemed to still.

"Oh, Daniel." Grandma's expression crumpled with sympathy, her fingers squeezing his arm.

She let out a soft sigh, the kind weighted with years of understanding about timing and missed chances. "You poor dear. All this time, and you couldn't say anything."

*Is he making this up, or is this real?*

My mind reeled, trying to separate fiction from fact. Every detail felt lived-in, authentic.

For a moment, I couldn't tell if I was listening to a performance or a confession.

My own treacherous heart had picked up speed, beating against my ribs.

And yet Grandma was nodding, her expression soft with understanding.

"But they weren't happy," Grandma said quietly. "Were they?"

"No." Daniel's voice was firm. "They weren't. And when Emma made it clear that she and Nicholas were truly over—"

He looked at me, and in his eyes, I saw something that made my breath catch. "I decided I wasn't going to let my concerns about age or timing or family expectations stop me anymore."

The silence that followed felt weighted, significant.

I should say something. Confirm this story. Play along with whatever elaborate fiction Daniel had constructed to satisfy Grandma's questions.

But my voice had deserted me entirely.

"So you pursued her," Grandma said, and there was approval in her tone now, warm and certain. "You didn't let her slip away twice."

"I pursued her," Daniel agreed. A slight smile touched his lips. "Though I had to be patient. Emma isn't someone who rushes into things."

*That's actually true.*

Grandma studied us both for another long moment. Then, slowly, she smiled.

"Well," she said, setting down her teacup with finality, "I think you make a lovely couple."

Relief flooded through me.

"Thank you, Grandma."

"Though I have to say," Grandma continued, her eyes twinkling now, "you certainly know how to keep a secret, Emma. All those months I asked about Nicholas, and you never once let slip that you'd moved on."

*Because I didn't know I had.*

I managed what I hoped was a believable smile, though it felt tight at the edges. "I... I didn't want to say anything until I was sure," I said, the words coming out awkwardly. "You know how it is."

She pushed herself to her feet with a soft grunt of effort.

"Now, I'm going to start on lunch. Daniel, I hope you're staying? I make a very good seafood chowder—the kind you can only get right when you're this close to the ocean."

"I wouldn't dream of missing it," Daniel said, rising as well. "Thank you, Mrs. Johnson."

"Oh, call me Grace," Grandma said, waving a hand dismissively. "If you're dating my granddaughter, we're past formalities."

She disappeared into the kitchen, humming softly to herself.

I remained frozen on the edge of the armchair, my hands still clenched in my lap.

The door to the kitchen swung shut.

Silence descended.

Daniel lowered himself back onto the couch, his movements unhurried. In the sudden quiet, I could hear the distant crash of waves against the rocks below the house, the creak of old wood settling, the faint whistle of wind through the eaves.

"That went well," he said mildly.

I turned to stare at him, then let out a breath that was half laugh, half disbelief.

"I can't believe you just—" I shook my head, a reluctant smile tugging at my lips despite everything. "You made that sound so convincing. "