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Emma paused, her spoon hovering over her dessert.
She looked at him curiously but smiled, closing her eyes and holding her hands out across the table.
She felt something heavy and leather-bound being placed gently into her palms.
"Open them," Michael said.
Emma opened her eyes and gasped.
Resting in her hands was a pristine, crimson leather copy of The Owen Threshold.
She ran her fingers over the cover, turning it to the spine. Engraved into the leather in brilliant gold lettering was her name: Emma Myers. She opened to the first page, and there it was again, beautifully embossed.
She looked up at Michael, her eyes shining with sudden emotion. "Michael... this is... I saw the video. It's different. It's beautiful."
"I am notoriously terrible at giving gifts," Michael admitted truthfully, feeling suddenly shy. "But from what I could see, you seemed to like my writing. So, I wanted you to have this."
Emma looked at him so lovingly that Michael thought his heart might actually stop beating.
"I love it," she whispered.
"Well," Michael cleared his throat, trying to maintain his composure. "Truthfully, at first, I wanted to give you my next book. It's releasing in three months. It's called The Fault in Our Stars. But I didn't have a physical copy yet. And... I really wanted to give it to you because... you inspired me to write it."
Emma's breath hitched.
A bright blush exploded across her cheeks. "I inspired it? What is the book about?"
Michael looked down at his tiramisu.
He couldn't possibly tell her the truth.
He couldn't say: I saw you kiss Zain for a scene, and I felt so insanely, devastatingly jealous and heartbroken that I went to a hotel room and wrote a tragic romance to cope with my own feelings.
"It's... a love story," Michael deflected softly. "But it's too early to explain it all now. If you ever ask me about it seriously later down the road... I'll give you the honest answer."
Emma didn't push.
She just smiled, holding the book to her chest just like she had held the flowers.
The ride back to Emma's hotel was quiet, but it was a comfortable, deeply intimate silence.
They chatted softly about little things. Michael sat next to her, his hand resting on his knee, just inches from hers.
He desperately wanted to interlock his fingers with hers, but the looming fear of rejection kept his hand firmly in place.
The SUV glided to a stop in front of her hotel.
The driver, a seasoned professional, immediately turned the engine off and stepped out of the vehicle to stretch his legs, giving them absolute privacy in the backseat.
Michael turned to look at Emma.
The charming smile he had worn all night faded into a look of heavy, genuine regret.
"Emma," Michael said quietly. "I have to fly back to America tomorrow."
Emma froze.
The warm, bubbly feeling in her chest instantly plummeted.
She knew she had weeks left of filming in the UK, and her promotional schedule after that was packed.
"Oh," Emma said, her voice small. She looked down at her shoes, a wave of visible sadness washing over her features. "So... we might not see each other for months."
Michael looked at her crestfallen face, and a sharp, physical pain twisted in his chest.
He couldn't leave her like this.
He couldn't fly across an ocean without telling her exactly how he felt.
Slowly, Michael reached out.
He gently placed both of his hands on her cheeks.
Emma's breath caught in her throat, shocked by the sudden intimacy, but she didn't pull away. She leaned into his warm palms, looking up into his dark, intense eyes.
"You look so beautiful," Michael whispered, his voice low and incredibly tender.
Before Emma could process the compliment, Michael leaned in and pressed his lips gently against hers.
Emma's eyes fluttered shut.
The kiss was soft, hesitant, and breathtakingly sweet. After a millisecond of shock, Emma melted against him.
She reached a hand up, gripping his clothes, and kissed him back tenderly, her heart hammering wildly against her chest.
When they finally parted, they stayed close, their foreheads resting against each other.
They were both smiling like idiots.
Emma pulled back just enough to look him in the eye, her blue eyes fierce but playful.
"Just so you know," she whispered, her voice shaking slightly, "I am not like other girls. If you are a heartbreaker, I will be an absolute menace to your life."
Michael chuckled softly.
He leaned in and pressed another, shorter kiss to her lips.
"I am not a douchebag, Emma," Michael whispered against her mouth, a slight blush rising on his own cheeks. "This is my first kiss."
Emma's eyes went wide.
A brilliant, embarrassed, entirely overjoyed smile broke across her face. Completely overwhelmed by her own feelings, she leaned forward and kissed him quickly on the lips one last time.
"Okay," she breathed out. She hurriedly gathered her heavy book and her bouquet of flowers, fumbling for the door handle. She scrambled out of the car, stepping onto the curb.
She turned around, her face flushed a vibrant pink, clutching the flowers to her chest.
"I will talk to you later, Michael Owen!" she said, her voice filled with a giddy, nervous energy.
Michael looked at her, his heart fuller than it had ever been in his 1 entire and 0.3 going on life.
"Anytime, Emma Myers," he smiled.
Emma let out a happy little squeak, spun around, and practically sprinted toward the hotel entrance, leaving Michael sitting in the backseat, completely and hopelessly in love.