The surgical suite had been a sanctuary of sterile silence and focus for six hours, but the moment I stepped out and peeled off my scrubs, reality hit me like a tidal wave.
Leo is home.
I checked my phone—dozens of missed messages in our family group chat. Most of them were from Leo, consisting of blurred selfies from the back of Andrew's car, pictures of expensive-looking snacks, and one ominous text that simply said: "Don't worry, Sis. Andrew and I are having a 'brotherly' chat about your future. 😉"
My heart did a nervous little skip. Andrew and Leo in a confined space for an hour was a recipe for disaster. Leo was a firecracker—all energy, no filter, and a relentless tease. Andrew, on the other hand, was a vault. But lately, around me, that vault had been creaking open, showing me the warmth and vulnerability of the boy I once knew.
I practically sprinted to the parking lot. By the time I reached the Thompson Manor, the sun was dipping below the horizon, painting the estate in shades of violet and gold.
As I walked through the front doors, I heard it—the boisterous, echoing laughter that could only belong to my brother.
"I'm telling you, Ethan, the Spanish goalies are like brick walls! I had to pull a bicycle kick just to get his attention!"
I followed the sound to the dining room. The table was already set, and the atmosphere was louder and brighter than it had been in years. Leo was sitting at the head of the table, gesturing wildly with a piece of bread, while Andrew sat to his right, looking remarkably patient—though his eyes met mine with a look that clearly said 'Save me.'
"Leo!" I cried out, the exhaustion of the surgery vanishing.
"There she is! The Surgeon of the Century!" Leo jumped up, nearly knocking his chair over, and caught me in a bear hug that lifted me off the floor. He smelled like travel and expensive cologne—probably something he'd swiped from Andrew's dressing room already.
"You missed the welcoming committee, Em," he said, ruffling my hair as he let me go. "But don't worry, my favorite brother-in-law here took great care of me."
I froze, my face heating up instantly. I looked at Andrew. He was busy focused on his wine glass, but I could see the slight twitch of a smile at the corner of his mouth.
"Brother-in-law?" I stammered, taking my seat next to Andrew. "Leo, stop being ridiculous. Andrew is our... he's..."
"He's what? Your cousin?" Leo sat back down, grinning like a shark. "Yeah, Andrew cleared that up in the car. Step-brothers, no DNA, biological strangers. It's basically a green light, Emily. Why didn't you tell me the 'family reunion' had such a romantic loophole?"
"Leo!" I hissed, grabbing my napkin. "Dinner just started. Can we please talk about Spain?"
"We can talk about Madrid later," Leo waved a hand dismissively. "I want to talk about this. I've been away for months, and I come back to find my sister living in a mansion with a guy who looks at her like she's the last bottle of water in the desert. It's fascinating!"
I felt Andrew's hand move under the table. For a second, I thought he was going to pull away in embarrassment, but instead, his fingers lightly brushed against my knee—a hidden, grounding touch that made my breath catch.
"Your sister is a difficult woman to ignore, Leo," Andrew said, his voice calm and smooth, cutting through Leo's noise.
Leo let out a low whistle. "Smooth. Very smooth, Andrew. See, Em? That's why he's the CEO. He knows how to close a deal."
"It's not a 'deal', Leo," I muttered, trying to focus on my salad. "It's... complicated."
"It's not that complicated," Leo countered, leaning in. "I asked Andrew in the car how he enjoys the 'forbidden' romance, and he told me—and I quote—that you're the only thing that feels real in this house. Honestly, if you guys don't stop the pining and just admit you're crazy about each other, I'm going to have to move out. The sexual tension in here is worse than a locker room after a win."
I nearly choked on my water. Ethan, who was sitting across from us, let out a loud snort and had to cover his mouth with a napkin. Even William Carter, who usually remained a statue of professionalism, had to look away to hide his grin.
"Leo, if you say one more word about 'tension', I am sending you back to Barcelona," I threatened, though my heart was hammering against my ribs.
"Fine, fine," Leo said, raising his hands in surrender. "I'll stop. For now. But seriously... it's good to see you both happy. I mean it. After everything this family went through, and after all those years you spent wondering about Andrew... seeing you two together like this? It feels right."
The teasing tone vanished for a moment, replaced by a genuine warmth. I looked at Andrew. He wasn't looking at his wine anymore. He was looking at me, his eyes soft and filled with an unspoken truth.
The 'cousin' label had been our shield for so long, a way to explain our closeness to the world. But hearing Leo tear it down so effortlessly made me realize how thin that shield really was. We weren't blood. We weren't just family. We were two people who had found each other across a lifetime of tragedy.
As the dinner continued, Leo went back to telling stories about Spanish football, making everyone laugh. But under the table, Andrew's hand finally found mine. He didn't just brush against me this time; he entwined his fingers with mine, squeezing gently.
I didn't pull away. I squeezed back.
Leo might be a loudmouthed, annoying little brother, but as I sat there in the warmth of the Thompson dining room, I realized he was right. The secret was out—not just to the police or the FBI, but to ourselves.
We weren't just Andrew and Emily anymore. We were something new. And for the first time in twenty years, I wasn't afraid of what that meant.
The energy of the dinner eventually faded into the quiet hum of the manor at night. After Leo had finally exhausted himself—and the rest of us—with his stories, we all retreated to our rooms.
I was standing by my balcony door, the cool night breeze ruffling the curtains. I was still wearing my silk robe, my mind replaying every word Leo had said. "The only thing that feels real in this house." Had Andrew really said that?
A soft, rhythmic knock sounded at my door. My heart did a slow, heavy roll in my chest. I knew that knock.
"Come in," I whispered.
The door creaked open, and Andrew stepped inside. He had changed into a simple black t-shirt and grey lounge pants. He looked less like the formidable CEO of Aegis and more like the boy who used to sit with me in the garden—raw, honest, and devastatingly handsome.
"Leo finally asleep?" I asked, a small smile playing on my lips.
"He's out cold. I think the jet lag finally caught up with his mouth," Andrew said, closing the door behind him. He didn't stay by the entrance. He walked toward me, his presence filling the room, making it feel smaller and warmer.
He stopped just inches away. I could smell the faint scent of cedarwood and the crisp night air on him. "I didn't get a chance to talk to you properly after he arrived."
"He... he said a lot of things at dinner, Andrew," I said, looking up at him. "About what you told him in the car. About us."
Andrew didn't look away. He reached out, his large, warm hands settling on my waist, drawing me a fraction closer. "Leo has a loud mouth, but he isn't a liar, Emily. Everything he said... I meant it. All of it."
My breath hitched. The air between us was thick with years of unspoken longing. Before I could say a word, Andrew leaned down.
His lips met mine, and the world simply vanished.
It wasn't like the accidental kiss in the library or the hesitant one in the conservatory. This was a deep, long, and hungry kiss. It tasted of relief, of possessiveness, and of a love that had been forged in fire. My hands found their way to his neck, my fingers tangling in the hair at the nape of his neck, pulling him closer. Every nerve in my body felt alive, sparking with a fire I had never known. We stood there for a long time, lost in each other, the silence of the room punctuated only by the sound of our breathing.
As the kiss deepened, the heat between us surged. Andrew's touch became more urgent, his hands sliding up my back, pulling my body flush against his. I felt a surge of desire that made my knees weak. I leaned into him, my heart hammering against his chest, wanting to lose myself in this moment completely.
But just as the fire threatened to consume us, and as my hand reached for the hem of his shirt, Andrew suddenly stiffened.
He pulled back, his forehead resting against mine, his chest heaving as he fought for control. His eyes were dark, clouded with passion, but there was a sudden, firm clarity in them.
"Andrew?" I whispered, my voice shaky and laced with confusion.
He took a shaky breath, his thumbs gently stroking my cheekbones. He looked at me with an intensity that made my soul ache.
"No," he said softly, his voice a low, gravelly rasp. "Not like this. Not now."
I looked at him, surprised. "Did I... did I do something wrong?"
"Never," he said, kissing my forehead tenderly. He took a step back, though he kept his hands on my shoulders as if he couldn't quite let go yet. "I've spent twenty years waiting to be with you, Emily. I've lived in the shadows, dreaming of a life where I could hold you like this."
He paused, a faint, respectful smile touching his lips.
"I want our first time to be perfect. I want it to be a beginning, not a secret we hide in the middle of the night. Let's do it after marriage."
I stared at him, my heart swelling with a mixture of shock and overwhelming affection. In a world where everything was fast, disposable, and dark, he was choosing to wait. He was choosing to honor me in a way I hadn't expected.
"You're such a gentleman, Andrew Parker," I breathed, a tear of pure happiness escaping my eye.
"Only for you, Emily Rose," he replied. He leaned in one last time, giving me a soft, chaste kiss on the lips that felt like a sacred vow. "Sleep well. I'll see you in the morning."
He turned and walked toward the door, leaving me standing in the moonlight. I watched him go, feeling a sense of peace I had never felt before. He wasn't just a man of strength and shadows; he was a man of honor. And as I climbed into bed, I realized that I didn't just love him—I respected him more than anyone I had ever known.