The Forbidden Throb Chapter 38

Emma's POV:

I stared at Daniel, my mind racing to decode what he meant.

His gray eyes held mine with an intensity that made my breath catch.

Then it clicked.

*Music.*

He was talking about music. Rock music.

That's why he listened to this kind of music. Not classical. Not refined. But something with edge. With rebellion in it.

My chest tightened with an emotion I couldn't quite name.

"You really are..." I paused, searching for the right words as we sat in the parking lot overlooking the Atlantic. The afternoon sun cast long shadows across his face. "You're extraordinary, Daniel."

I turned to face him fully, meeting his surprised gaze. "Truly. If I'd had that kind of childhood. I never would have become... this."

"Still," I insisted. "To achieve what you have, to become who you are—it's remarkable."

He studied me for a long moment, and I fought the urge to look away. There was something in his gaze that made my pulse quicken, made me hyperaware of the small space between us in the car.

"You give me too much credit," he said finally. "I simply learned to find meaning within constraints."

"That's exactly what makes it remarkable."

I tried to lighten the mood before we both drowned in the heaviness of his past.

"If you hadn't become a doctor," I said, attempting lightness, "you definitely could have been a great screenwriter. "

Daniel's lips curved into a genuine smile. He'd caught my teasing tone immediately.

"Art imitates life," he said simply, then pushed open his door before I could process that cryptic response. "Come on. Let's walk."

---

The beach stretched before us, gray sand meeting gray-blue water beneath an overcast sky.

November in Portland meant the tourist season was long over—just a few locals walking their dogs in the distance, seagulls wheeling overhead.

I pulled Daniel's jacket tighter around my shoulders. He'd insisted I wear it against the ocean breeze, and I hadn't argued.

We walked in comfortable silence, our footsteps leaving parallel tracks in the damp sand. Small waves lapped at the shore, their rhythm hypnotic.

Then it hit me—a strange sense of *déjà vu*.

This scene. This beach. The comfortable quiet between us.

*Have I been here before? Like this?*

I glanced sideways at Daniel's profile, his gaze fixed on the horizon, and suddenly his story from earlier rushed back with startling clarity.

*A birthday on the beach. A girl with a smashed cupcake. Off-key singing.*

And that comment in the car just now—*art imitates life*.

My heart rate picked up.

*Was it real?*

The question formed before I could stop it, taking root in my mind with unsettling persistence.

I tried to recall the past, summers spent here with Grandma, but they blurred together in a haze of salt air and seagull cries.

The romantic notion sent a flutter through my chest—but then reality crashed back like a cold wave.

I thought of the first time Nicholas brought me home as his girlfriend.

Daniel had been there—standing in the Prescott family's elegant living room, polite and composed as always.

Nicholas had been so excited. "Dan, help us take some photos, will you? I want to commemorate this."

And Daniel had agreed without hesitation, taking Nicholas's phone with those steady hands.

I remembered standing there awkwardly while Nicholas posed us—his arm around my waist, then both of us on the leather sofa, then by the fireplace with its ornate mantelpiece.

Daniel had taken shot after shot, adjusting angles with clinical precision.

He'd been perfectly pleasant. Professional, even.

*If I'd really been that girl from his story, surely there would have been... something.*

A moment of hesitation. A lingering glance. Some crack in that composed exterior.

But there had been nothing. Just polite efficiency.

And the photos themselves—Nicholas had complained later that they were all slightly off. Angles wrong, lighting harsh, our expressions somehow stiff.

Apparently, Daniel's talents didn't extend to photography.

My stomach twisted with an uncomfortable realization.

*I'm being ridiculous.*

A wave of embarrassment washed over me, heat creeping up my neck.

Daniel had crafted that story for *Grandma*—a romantic narrative to convince her we were a real couple. And here I am, actually wondering if it's true.

God, how *presumptuous* of me.

Here was this man who'd solved my impossible situation, offered me a practical arrangement that benefited both our families, asked for nothing but I was busy romanticizing his kindness into something it wasn't.

"You're quiet," Daniel observed, his voice gentle.

I forced myself to smile. "Just thinking about how surreal this day has been. "

We walked a few more minutes in silence. The sun was beginning to sink lower, painting the sky in shades of pearl and slate. It would be dark soon.

Then Daniel's phone rang.

He pulled it from his pocket, frowned at the screen. "Excuse me a moment."

I watched his expression shift as he answered—that professional mask sliding into place, his posture straightening almost imperceptibly.

"Prescott," he said crisply. Then: "Tomorrow? I thought that was scheduled for Wednesday."

A pause as he listened, his jaw tightening fractionally.

"No, you're right. If the patient's pressure keeps spiking, we can't wait." Another pause. "9 a.m.? That works. I'll be there."

He ended the call, but continued staring at his phone for a long moment before looking at me.

"Emergency?" I asked.

"Not quite. But a surgery that needs to be moved up. I have to be back in Boston by tomorrow morning."

"Of course," I said immediately. "I understand."

A patient's life took precedence over everything else—that was simply the reality of being married to a surgeon. Even if it was just a marriage of convenience.

Daniel's jaw tightened slightly, his gaze still fixed on his phone.

"I'm sorry. I know we just—" He gestured vaguely, encompassing the marriage, the beach, the whole surreal day. "It might seem disrespectful to your grandmother. Leaving so soon after the ceremony."

"Grandma will understand," I assured him quickly. "She's not big on formality anyway. And it's not like we're a... a traditional newlywed couple who needs a wedding night."

The words left my mouth before I could stop them.

*Oh God.*

Heat flooded my face instantly, burning from my neck to the tips of my ears.

*Wedding night. Did I really just say that out loud?*