Fifteen
1228 Words
Kaden:
Emma disappeared into the bedroom, and I forced myself not to watch the doorway like some lovesick i***t. Instead, I leaned my shoulder against the wall and exhaled slowly. The house felt too quiet without Avery buzzing around my legs, tugging on my shirt, demanding I look at whatever masterpiece she’d created with crayons and mismatched stickers.
And damn, I missed her already.
But the silence wasn’t empty.Not with Emma still in it.
I heard drawers open, fabric rustling, her soft sighs as she moved around. My mind wandered—dangerously—to the way she’d stood up to my parents, to how Avery had clung to her shirt like she’d found something she wasn’t willing to lose. The image wouldn’t leave me.
By the time Emma stepped back into the living room, I had to drag my eyes up from her legs twice.
She was wearing jeans that hugged her hips, snow boots with a bit of mud still clinging to the edges, and a sweater that made her look soft enough to touch—but smart enough that I kept my damn hands to myself.
“Okay,” she said, smoothing her hair nervously even though she didn’t need to. “Where are we going?”
“First?” I grabbed my keys and opened the door for her. “We’re going to get your car unstuck.”
She groaned. “Ugh. Right. That.”
“And after that,” I continued, meeting her eyes as she passed me, “we’re going ring shopping.”
She stumbled. Actually stumbled.
“I—what?”
“We need proof we’re engaged,” I reminded gently. “And the court’s not stupid. They’ll want to see more than a story.”
Her breath hitched. Her cheeks flushed pink. “Right. A ring.”
“Our ring,” I corrected, and the way her breath stopped for a second almost did me in.
I didn’t push it.
Not yet.
Her little blue car was exactly where she’d left it: half buried in the snow on the shoulder of the road, tilted like it had tried to escape and given up halfway.
Emma groaned. “It looks worse today.”
“It looked bad yesterday,” I reminded. “It looks catastrophic today.”
She shoved me lightly. “Be useful.”
I smirked, grabbed the shovel from the back of my truck, and got to work.Snow flew in clean arcs over my shoulder. She stood beside me trying to “help” but somehow managed to get snow in her boots, down her sleeve, and once—don’t ask me how—inside her hood.
“You’re a disaster,” I muttered, brushing snow off her hair.
She swatted my hand but she didn’t step away. “I’m trying.”
“You’re adorable.”
She blinked up at me, startled, and I cleared my throat like I could take the words back.
Too late. She’d heard them.
Once the snow was cleared enough, I slid into her driver’s seat and rocked the car free while she pushed. She used her whole body, little boots sliding, face determined.
When the car finally lurched free she cheered, hopping up and down like she’d just won Olympic gold.
“I did that!”“You pushed. I drove,” I teased.
“I contributed emotionally,” she argued.
I laughed. Actually laughed.
God help me.
The jewelry store bell chimed as we stepped inside. Warm lights glittered off displays. Emma’s steps slowed, her breath going soft and shaky.
“You okay?” I asked quietly.
She nodded, though her fingers curled nervously around her sleeve. “I’ve just… never done this before.”
“Me neither.”I took a step closer. “We’re doing it together. That’s what matters.”
Her eyes lifted and met mine.
That did something to me.
The jeweler approached—polished, smiling too hard. “Looking for anything specific today?”
“An engagement ring,” I said, my voice steady, my hand settling low on Emma’s back. Gently. Naturally. Like I’d done it a thousand times.
Emma didn’t pull away.
She leaned into me.
The jeweler pulled out trays—diamonds, moissanite, gold bands, vintage cuts, halos, solitaires. Emma’s eyes widened like she’d stepped into another world.
“Try this one,” I murmured, lifting a simple oval diamond on a thin gold band.
She hesitated. “Kaden… it’s beautiful.”
“It looks like you,” I said before I could stop myself.
Her breath caught.
I slid it onto her finger.
It fit. Perfectly.
And something clicked inside me—quiet, terrifying, certain.
“That’s the one,” I said, more to myself than the jeweler.
She stared at the ring, then up at me. Her voice was barely a whisper.
“You picked it like you already knew.”
I swallowed. “Maybe I did.”
The restaurant was small, warm, and tucked away—brick walls, string lights, the smell of garlic and butter drifting through the air. Not fancy. Comfortable.
Emma shrugged off her coat, cheeks still touched with winter cold. I held her chair out. She rolled her eyes but sat anyway, a tiny smile tugging her mouth.
“So,” she said, playing with her napkin, “court-mandated getting-to-know-you questions?”
“Yeah.” I leaned back, studying her. “Let’s start simple.”
She lifted her brows, waiting.
“What’s your favorite color?”
She blinked, then laughed. “What are we, twelve?”
“Answer the question.”
She bit her lip. “Okay… soft green. Like moss.”
It fit her so perfectly it made my chest tighten.
“Yours?” she asked.
“Dark blue,” I admitted. “Like… the ocean right before a storm.”
She tilted her head. “That’s… specific.”
“So was yours.”
She smiled—small, soft, real.
I tried another. “Favorite food?”
“Pizza,” she said instantly. “But like the trashy kind. Greasy. Too much cheese. The kind that drips onto the box.”
“That’s oddly attractive.”
She choked on her water and glared at me. “Stop.”
“No.”
She laughed again, quietly, before asking, “What about you?”
“Steak,” I said. “Medium rare. I know it’s a cliché, don’t judge me.”
She pretended to take notes. “Okay, so you’re predictable.”
“I’m dependable,” I corrected.
Her eyes warmed in a way that made me want to shift my chair closer.
She thought for a moment before asking softly, “What’s your favorite season?”
“Winter,” I said. “Because Avery loves the snow.”
She stilled.
Then her voice went barely-there. “Mine’s fall.”
“Because…?”
“It feels hopeful,” she whispered. “Like things ending and beginning at the same time.”
I watched her for a long moment.And something lodged under my ribs, sharp and unavoidable.
“Emma?” I asked quietly.
“Mhm?”
I swallowed. “I think this weekend might change more than just our court story.”
She looked up slowly. “Yeah,” she whispered. “I think so too.”
And damn if that didn’t feel like the truest thing in the room.
- Writer
