The Forbidden Throb Chapter 48

Emma's POV:

Olivia paused for dramatic effect, her eyes fixed on mine with absolute certainty.

"He's either gay, or there's some kind of... dysfunction situation."

I choked on my water.

Again.

My hand flew to my mouth as I coughed, trying desperately not to spray water across the pristine white tablecloth. Through watering eyes, I caught sight of Daniel through the restaurant's front window, his back to us as he spoke into his phone, one hand in his pocket.

*No way,* I thought, my face heating. *That can't be—*

"I know it sounds harsh," Olivia continued, completely oblivious to my internal crisis, "but Emma, you need to consider these things. Either scenario would be... problematic for you."

I set down my water glass with shaking hands, my gaze involuntarily sliding toward Daniel again.

The afternoon sun caught the edge of his profile, the clean line of his jaw, the way his shoulders filled out his suit jacket with quiet confidence.

"Liv," I managed, my voice still rough from coughing. "I don't think—"

"Don't rush to deny it. Think about it," she pressed on, warming to her theory. "Thirty-two years old, never been in a relationship, refuses every setup his family tries to arrange. The man is basically the most eligible bachelor in Boston, and yet..."

She spread her hands as if the conclusion was obvious.

My mind worked through Olivia's logic, turning it over like a puzzle piece.

A soft sigh escaped me.

"Whatever," I said quietly, still not meeting her eyes, "that's not necessarily a bad thing."

* If he's not interested in that aspect of things, doesn't that make it safer? *

"What?" Olivia's voice rose slightly. "Emma—"

She stared at me, her mouth slightly open, and I realized with a jolt of panic what I'd just revealed.

Olivia didn't know. She didn't know this was an arrangement. She thought this was real—that I'd actually married Daniel.

But Daniel's words echoed in my mind: *"The fewer people who know the real nature of our arrangement, the better. At least for the first year."*

"I mean—" I started, my voice coming out too high, too rushed. "That's just speculation, right? We don't actually know anything about his... situation. I'm probably overthinking this whole thing anyway."

I forced a laugh that sounded hollow even to my own ears.

Olivia's eyes narrowed, her journalist instincts clearly activated. She leaned forward, opening her mouth to press further—

"Sorry about that."

Daniel's voice cut through the tension as he returned to the table, sliding smoothly back into his seat. He glanced between us, and I wondered if he could sense the awkward energy radiating from our corner of the restaurant.

"Everything alright?" he asked, his tone pleasant but with an undertone of concern.

"Fine," I said too quickly. "Everything's fine."

Olivia sat back, her gaze fixed on me with an expression I knew all too well.

It was the look of exasperated resignation—the specific brand of frustration that comes from watching your best friend, clearly blinded by romance, willingly march straight into what you're absolutely certain is a disaster.

I dropped my gaze to my water glass, unable to meet her eyes.

---

Back at the dorm, Daniel helped carry my boxes downstairs to the car, then quietly excused himself. "I'll give you two some time," he said, which I appreciated more than I could express.

For a moment, neither of us spoke.

"Look," she said finally, her voice softer than it had been at the restaurant. "I've said everything I needed to say."

A small, sad smile tugged at her lips. "Just remember you're not alone in this, okay? Even if you're moving to Beacon Hill and marrying into Boston royalty, you're still my best friend. That doesn't change."

My throat tightened. "Liv—"

She pulled me into a tight hug, and I felt her sigh against my shoulder.

"Alright, enough," she said after a moment, pulling back with a slightly watery laugh. "It's not like we're never going to see each other again. You're only moving across town, not to another planet."

She squeezed my hand once more, then stepped back, her expression settling into something closer to her usual confidence.

"Go on. Text me when you're settled."

I nodded and headed for the door, feeling her eyes on my back as I walked down the hallway for the last time.

Outside, Daniel was leaning against the car, his phone in his hand. When he saw me approaching, he straightened and moved to open the passenger door.

"All set?" he asked, his tone neutral.

I glanced back at the dorm building one more time, catching a glimpse of Olivia's silhouette in our—her—window.

I nodded, not trusting my voice.

The drive to his place was quiet. I watched the familiar streets of campus give way to the more upscale neighborhoods near Longwood Medical Area, then further into the elegant brownstone-lined streets of Beacon Hill.

We finally pulled up in front of a beautiful Victorian townhouse.

When the doors opened, he led me down a hallway lined with cream-colored walls and dark hardwood floors. The lighting was warm, almost golden, casting soft shadows that made everything feel intimate and hushed.

The apartment was... not what I'd expected.

I'd expected minimalism—the kind of sleek, impersonal space that matched Daniel's professional precision. Clean lines, neutral colors, everything in its place with surgical exactness.

Instead, what greeted me was unexpectedly warm.

The living room opened before us, bathed in the soft light of evening streaming through tall windows that overlooked a small private garden.

A comfortable-looking sofa in deep charcoal grey faced a fireplace with a marble mantel. Built-in bookshelves lined one wall, filled with medical texts but also novels. A Turkish rug in muted blues and creams covered the hardwood floor, its pattern intricate but not overwhelming.

There were touches everywhere that spoke of an actual person living here: a cashmere throw draped over the sofa's arm, a coffee mug resting on a side table next to a well-worn paperback, a small succulent on the windowsill that looked healthy and well-tended.

It felt like a real home.

"Emma?"

Daniel's voice was gentle, and I realized he'd been watching me stand immobile in the doorway, lost in my spiral of thoughts.

"Welcome home," he said, and something in his tone made my throat tight.