EMMA

The golden light of sunset spilled through the window, casting a warm glow across the wooden floors of Jake's childhood home. The house was quiet now, wrapped in the kind of stillness that only came after a day well spent.

Elizabeth and Derek were outside, finishing up the last of the cleanup from the backyard barbecue. The scent of grilled food still lingered in the air, a reminder of our laughter that had echoed through the yard just hours ago.

It had been perfect. Kaylee had spent half the day roasting Jake, resurrecting childhood stories he had clearly hoped would never see the light of day. His parents had joined in, adding their own embarrassing anecdotes—like the time middle-school Jake tried to impress a girl by jumping off the shed roof into a pile of leaves. Spoiler alert—there weren't nearly enough leaves.

I had laughed until my stomach hurt, swept up in the easy warmth of their company—the way they pulled me in without hesitation, treating me like I had always been one of them.

And now, curled up on the couch with a warm cup of tea in my hands, I let the weight of this weekend settle over me. The perfection of it. The impossible, fleeting kind of happiness that almost felt cruel to experience, knowing it wasn't mine to keep.

Kaylee and I had bonded over fashion, sarcasm, and a shared joy in making Jake's life difficult. I had even connected her with Aly, and she was already making plans to visit the city soon.

Elizabeth had treated me like a daughter, effortlessly pulling me into her world, making me feel seen in ways I hadn't even realized I needed. We had spent parts of the weekend painting together, side by side in her sunlit art nook, where she encouraged me to pick up a brush—not for perfection, not for purpose, but simply for the joy of it. And somehow, without even trying, she had reminded me what it felt like to create something just for myself.

Derek, with his quiet but unwavering presence, had somehow convinced me to play baseball and drink beer—both an accomplishment and a minor miracle.

And Jake had taken me all over town, showing me the places he used to love, the coffee shop where he spent too much time in high school, the field where he learned to drive, the pier where he once convinced Kaylee that lake monsters were real.

I even met some of his old friends, guys who clapped him on the back and talked about him like he was still the kid who left town with big dreams.

Thinking about all of this now made me realize that I should have seen it coming—the way this weekend would wreck me. Because now it was ending, and reality was waiting for me in New York.

I tightened my grip around the mug, watching the sun sink lower behind the trees, streaking the sky in shades of orange and violet.

"There you are."

Jake's voice pulled me from my thoughts. I turned to find him leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, wearing that small, knowing smile—the one that made me feel both seen and utterly exposed.

"Everything okay?" he asked, stepping into the room, his brows furrowing slightly.

I forced a smile. "Yeah," I said. "Just... not ready to go back to work yet."

Jake huffed a quiet laugh. "You can say that again."

But I could tell he wasn't buying it—his gaze lingered a second too long, the way it always did when he sensed I wasn't giving him the full answer. He didn't push, though. Instead, he simply reached for my hand, his fingers curling around mine.

"Come on," he said. "I've got something to show you."

I blinked. "Right now?"

"Right now." A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. "Unless you have important plans, like brooding dramatically by the window until midnight."

I scoffed, rolling my eyes. "Fine. But if this turns out to be some elaborate prank, I'll be holding a grudge."

"Noted," he said, grinning.

And with that, he laced his fingers with mine and led me outside. The evening air was crisp, the last streaks of daylight fading into deep indigo. And above us, the stars blinked awake one by one.

Jake's hand remained warm around mine as he led me toward the car.

"You still haven't told me where we're going," I pointed out as we slid inside.

"And I'm not going to," he said, turning the key in the ignition.

I shot him a look. "You know, one day, your surprises are going to backfire. And when they do, I'll be the first to say 'I told you so.'"

Jake smirked, pulling onto the road. "If that ever happens, I'll personally buy you the most expensive bottle of wine I can find."

"I'm holding you to that."

I leaned back into the seat, letting the hum of the engine and the quiet emptiness of the road settle around us. It was so different from the city—no honking taxis, no endless sirens, just the soft rustle of trees lining the road as the world faded into darkness with every mile we put behind us.

It was calming, and for a moment, I surrendered to the quiet, allowing my shoulders to drop, my guard to lower just slightly. Then, a vibration against my palm yanked me back. I pulled out my phone, my breath catching when I saw the notification.

A message from Eric. We need to talk.

I had been waiting to hear from him, hoping for it, but somehow, seeing those four words made my stomach clench, and the weight that had been pressing against my ribs all day suddenly doubled.

I knew I should have opened the message. Should have answered, should have asked what it was about, even though I already had an idea. But instead, I let my thumb hover over the screen before clicking the phone off and slipping it back into my pocket.

Because tonight might very well be the last time I got to feel this—this ease, this quiet sense of belonging. And I wanted to hold onto it, to stretch it out for as long as I could.

Just for a little while longer, I wanted to pretend the weekend wasn't ending, that I wasn't Emma-the-con-artist or Emma-the-liar. Tonight, I was just Emma. The girl sitting next to her boyfriend, driving into the night with nowhere to be but here.

Jake must have noticed something shift in my expression, because he glanced over with a slight frown.

"Everything okay?"

"Yeah," I said quickly, forcing a smile. "Just Eric. He and Alycia are probably at each other's throats over fashion choices again."

Jake studied me for a second longer, like he was debating whether or not to push. Then, finally, he nodded and reached over, squeezing my thigh lightly before returning his hand to the wheel.

"We're almost there."

I nodded, grateful he let it go. For the rest of the drive, I kept my gaze fixed on the scenery, letting the rhythm of the road calm the storm brewing inside me.

And then, when we finally pulled up, I realized I had no idea what I had been expecting—but it definitely wasn't this.

The road had opened up into a lakeside view, the water stretching out before us, smooth and almost glassy, reflecting the sky above like a mirror. The stars twinkled across the water's surface, and the air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of autumn and damp earth.

I turned to Jake. "You brought me to a lake?"

"Not just any lake," he said, shutting off the engine. "Cayuga Lake." He gave me a look like I had just called the Mona Lisa a decent sketch.

I chuckled. "Oh, my mistake. Clearly, this is sacred ground."

He leaned back against his seat, that effortless smile still flickering around the corners of his mouth. "Figured I should show you some real stars before we go back to the city and drown in artificial light."

I looked back at the view, smirking after a pause. "Still... should I be worried? Are we in a horror movie scenario right now?"

Jake laughed, arching an eyebrow. "You didn't forget what I do for a living, did you?"

"Right. FBI." I nodded, playing along. "So, I'm safe?"

"Very." He winked before getting out, coming around to my side and opening my door for me.

The cool breeze met me the second I stepped out, and I pulled my jacket tighter around myself, watching as Jake moved to the trunk. To my surprise, he pulled out a blanket, a small lantern, and a picnic basket.

"Wow. You really planned this, didn't you?"

He gave me a cocky grin. "What can I say? I'm a man with a plan."

I let out a small, amused breath as we made our way closer to the lake, and then Jake spread out the blanket on the grass, setting the lantern beside it.

"Alright," I said, crossing my arms. "Tell me the truth. Is this a setup? Are you about to confess you also can play the guitar and sing?"

Jake paused mid-motion, then sighed dramatically. "Well, now you've ruined the surprise. Guess I'll cancel the guitar serenade."

I laughed. "Shame. I was ready to swoon."

His grin deepened as he motioned for me to sit. "Come on, you're going to love this."

I hesitated—just for a fraction of a second—before lowering myself onto the blanket beside him.

Jake reached into the picnic basket and pulled out a bottle of champagne. The cork popped softly, the sound echoing against the quiet night. He poured two glasses, handing me one, his fingers brushing lightly against mine, a lopsided smile playing on his lips.

I took a slow sip, the bubbles dancing on my tongue, warmth spreading through me, easing the tension in my shoulders.

My gaze drifted to the lake, its surface impossibly smooth, reflecting the stars so clearly it felt like we were floating between two skies.

"I almost forgot they don't look like this back in the city," Jake said beside me, looking at the stars.

I tipped my head back, letting my gaze sweep across the sky—vast and endless. It wasn't just dotted with stars, but drenched in them, as if someone had scattered a handful of crushed diamonds across a canvas of endless black.

But even with all that beauty above me, my attention drifted. I wasn't looking at the stars anymore. I was looking at him. Because in this moment, he was the only thing that mattered.

I wished I could hold on to this—just for a little while longer. Let the world outside this lake fade away. But time didn't work like that. It never paused for the moments that mattered most.

And I wasn't ready to say that out loud. So, like always, I reached for the one thing that had never failed me—sarcasm. Letting it slip over me like armor, shielding me from everything I didn't dare to feel.

"So, champagne, stars... Should I be expecting a proposal?"

Jake chuckled, his eyes meeting mine. "Let's just focus on one romantic cliché at a time."

I smiled, taking another sip of my drink before turning back to the lake. "It's beautiful, I'll give you that. Almost feels like we've stepped into another world."

A small, knowing smile played on Jake's lips, but he didn't say anything right away. Instead, he leaned back onto one elbow, his gaze drifting to the sky.

I watched him for a moment, the way the starlight caught in his green eyes, making them look softer, deeper. Then, without thinking, I set my glass aside and eased onto the blanket beside him.

His free hand found mine, fingers intertwining like it was the easiest, most natural thing in the world. And for a while, we just lay there, letting the silence speak for us.

I closed my eyes for a moment, listening to the soft lapping of the lake against the shore, the rustling leaves in the cool night air, the distant hoot of an owl. Everything felt still, endless, like we had stepped outside of time itself.

And I realized the cold should have seeped into my bones by now, but it didn't. Not with Jake beside me, his warmth chasing away the night's chill like a flame held close.

And his touch—God, his touch. The way his fingers curled around mine, solid and certain, made it feel like the stars weren't just above us but dancing across my skin.

"You know..." he said, after a long moment, his voice slow, careful.

I opened my eyes and turned to him, my heart already picking up speed, because I knew that tone.

"I used to come here a lot," he said, his voice softer now, almost hesitant. "Whenever things got heavy... this was my escape. Back in the city, it's different. I bury myself in work. It's easier to focus on the next case, the next lead, instead of..." He trailed off, exhaling sharply through his nose, like the words were harder to say than he expected.

Instead of what? I wanted to ask. But I didn't. Because a weight had settled low in my stomach, heavy and unmoving, like a stone dropped into deep water.

"...Instead of wondering what was missing."

Then, he looked at me—really looked at me. And in the dim glow of the lantern, his green eyes held something unguarded, something that sent a slow, electric shiver down my spine.

"I've spent so much of my life knowing exactly what I was doing. Who I was. Where I was going." A quiet, breathless laugh escaped him. "And then..." He hesitated, his fingers tightening around mine like he needed something solid to hold on to. "Then you happened."

My lungs forgot how to work for a moment.

Jake ran a hand through his hair, fingers tugging at the strands. "I wasn't looking for this, Emma. Hell, I wasn't even ready for it."

He hesitated, then let out a slow breath, shaking his head like he was still trying to make sense of it all. "But somewhere along the way, I don't know—things shifted. I didn't see it happening, but suddenly, you were just... there. And now—" He exhaled sharply. "Now, I don't know how to go back to life without you. I don't think I want to."

I froze. Because I knew where this was heading. And God, I wanted to run.

My fingers twitched in his grip, but Jake only held on tighter, his touch warm, steady—everything I wasn't.

"And it's not just this," he continued. "Not just the quiet moments, or the easy ones. It's all of it. The messy ones. The ones where I feel like I'm failing. The ones where the job wears me down, where the world feels too damn heavy. I want you in all of it."

A pressure I couldn't name settled in my ribs, my breaths growing short, like I was standing too close to a ledge.

"Jake—" I tried to stop him before he said something I couldn't unhear—something I wouldn't survive if I let it settle into my bones.

But he didn't stop.

He swallowed, like he was bracing himself. Then, finally, his voice—low, certain—shattered me completely.

"I love you, Emma."