Will's blue sedan pulled up in the only spare park outside the restaurant. They unbuckled their seatbelts and just as Emma was about to open her door, Will put his hand on her knee.
"Wait." He opened his car door and sauntered over to the passenger side, opening Emma's door for her, extending his arm and helped her out of the vehicle.
"Why, thank you, kind sir," she answered, impressed with his chivalry. It was the old style ways embedded in Will's personality that repeatedly reminded Emma he was that one guy. That one guy who's gentlemanly presence made you feel special. That one guy who still believed in romance. That one guy, Will Schuester, was one in a million.
He locked the car and they stepped onto the sidewalk, just underneath the flashing Breadstix neon sign. "Uh, before we go in, and I should have done this earlier, instead I got uhm, distracted," he stumbled, eyeing her hemline, then looking directly in her big brown eyes, "Let's start right from the beginning. Hi. I'm William Schuester and I'll be your date for this evening."
They shook hands firmly, like two executives agreeing on a business deal. Emma stifled a giggle.
"Hi Will. May I call you Will? My name is Emma. Emma Pillsbury. And I am honoured you chose me to be your date tonight."
"Emma." He raised her hand to his lips and kissed above her knuckles. "That's a pretty name."
"My parents named me after Emma Woodhouse from the Jane Austen novel."
"Ahh, I see, the 'naturally gifted' matchmaker. Well, no matchmaking tonight. I think the two of us are already a match made in heaven. Shall we?" Will stuck his elbow out for Emma to hold onto.
Swooning, she obliged, latching onto his forearm. "I'd be delighted!"
Soft piano music and the gentle murmur of patrons greeted Will and Emma as they reached the front service desk at Breadstix. The Maître d' smiled warmly at the couple and asked if they had a reservation. Will gave him the details and a waitress, whose name was Alice, promptly escorted them to a booth at the far end of the restaurant. Emma felt Will's hand rest on the small of her back as he guided her through the maze of tables, chairs and local residents. Goose bumps rose up her spine. She couldn't figure out if the reaction was from the air conditioning being a little on the chilly side or from the sudden heat of Will's touch. She wagered on the latter.
Emma slid herself cautiously into the booth seat, trying to avoid touching the table with her hands. A few crumbs littered the tabletop. A film of something sticky was on the corner of the seat. The cutlery looked okay. Relax Emma; everything's fine. You're here, in public, with Will. Remember what you learned in therapy. You can do it! Lucky she brought a travel pack of sanitary wipes, just as a precaution.
Will took the other seat, sensing something was wrong with Emma. She looked…worried. The waitress was totally oblivious to anything going on and handed them both a menu, asking if they'd like a drink.
"Em, what would you like?" Will asked.
"Umm," Emma said, scanning the wine list, still thinking of those crumbs, "May I have a glass of the Merlot, please?"
"Certainly," Alice replied, scribbling on her notepad. "And you sir?"
"Sounds good Em, I'll have the same. And can we get a carafe of water too?"
"No problems, I'll be back shortly with your drinks and to take your food order."
"Thank you," Will said. He and Emma both read through their menus, selecting what they wanted to eat. Emma discreetly took a wipe out of her clutch and, behind her menu, wiped down her part of the table. Will peered over his menu. He couldn't see her, but he did feel the table shake.
"Em? Is everything okay?"
The table stopped moving and Emma's head bobbed up. "Uh-huh."
"You sure?"
"Everything is good. There were just a few crumbs on the table and then I noticed a small stain and well, if you leave something for too long it becomes permanent and we wouldn't want that now, would we?"
Will opened his mouth but before he could answer, Alice returned with their drinks and took their order for dinner. Emma opted for the walnut pear salad; Will chose the hickory-smoked steak.
"Just a second," Emma called out to Alice as she turned to return to the kitchen. "Can I just check with you, the plates, glasses and cutlery, how are they cleaned?"
The waitress gave Emma a funny look. "With an industrial dishwasher, ma'am."
"And, uh, what temperature does the water reach? The water's not recycled, is it?"
"I-uh, not that I'm aware of, ma'am. And I think it's about 180-185 Fahrenheit. Look, do you want me to get someone from the kitchen, or…?" Alice turned to Will, confused.
"Ye-"
"No, that's okay," Will interrupted, cutting Emma off. "I think the dishwasher sounds rather satisfactory, don't you think, Em?" He caught a bit of pain in her eyes, knowing full well she was trying keep her OCD veiled in public. Emma concurred unwillingly; conscious of the fact her questioning had detoured overboard. She bowed her head, embarrassed.
"Your meals should only be 15-20 minutes. Uh, th-thank you." Alice left their table, glancing at Emma over her shoulder.
Will looked at her in silence for several moments. She was trying so hard. Maybe a little later he would ask how her therapy was going. Deep inside, Emma was still Emma. And it was that person who Will loved most of all.
"Hey…"
Emma winced. "You're not mad, are you?"
"Oh gosh no. Not at all."
"I promise you, I'm a lot better than what I was."
"I believe you."
"There's so many –"
"You don't have to explain. I understand."
"You do?"
He nodded, wanting Emma to shift her attention away from her illness. Emma deserved some brightness in her life; something to be optimistic about, no matter how rough her OCD was treating her. Will's intention was to make Emma optimistic about their future. Together. "Take your glass. Tonight is about you and me. To new beginnings. To us," Will exclaimed.
"To us," Emma echoed. Thank you, so much. He was so in-tune with her emotions, knowing exactly what to say or do to make her feel better. Even when such things were getting her down, she was able to refocus on the positive simply by having Will at her side. She began to feel at ease, comfortable, returning to how she was just moments ago in her apartment. Will really was sweeping her off her feet.
They raised and clinked their glasses, taking a sip. Will was very happy there was a booth available tonight; it was so much more… private. The tea light candles in the centre of the table, the dimmed lights, cushioned booth seats, so romantic and intimate. He reached across the table and took Emma's hand.
"I'm so glad you're here."
"So am I."
"I just – these past few weeks have been – I mean, it's like old times, you know? Having lunch together, talking. I've missed that. I've missed you. I…" Will looked at their hands, his thumb circling over her fingers. Her skin was so soft. "I want us to start over."
She looked directly into his eyes and gave him a warm smile. "I want that too."
"Really?"
"Really." Emma was never so sure of anything else in her life.
"You don't know how pleased it makes me to hear you say that." Will squeezed her hand tighter, goofily grinning at her. Emma giggled. "What?" he asked, his eyes dancing with euphoria.
"Your smile. It's incredibly cute. Adorable even. I like the way you smile when you look at me."
Will's grin grew wider. "My lips can do more than just smile, Em." Leaning over the table, he cupped her face in his hands and kissed her once, twice, three times, just enough to tantalise; just enough to blissfully stir the fondue of delight melting inside her.
"Oh my, that certainly wasn't a handshake." Emma exhaled, a flush of red dawn surrounding the sunrise within her soul.
"No, no it was not," Will admitted earnestly. "Just so you know, I'm going to seize every opportunity to make up for lost time."
"Seize away. We have a lot of catching up to do." Her words were gentle and breathy, yet surprisingly intense, especially to her own ears.
"Maybe we could… cuddle on your couch after dinner?" Will raised an eyebrow playfully, taking another sip from his glass.
"I like that idea."
"Good. I want nothing more than to hold you in my arms the entire evening."
Emma clasped her hands, resting her chin on top. Love-struck. That was the only way to describe it. The magical intensity only teenagers generate when smitten by a first crush was finally happening; all it needed was a jumpstart from that one in a million guy. But Emma wasn't a teenager anymore. And this was no longer a crush.
"I think I'd feel quite protected with your arms around me."
Being on the other side of the table was becoming frustrating to Will. So close but yet so far. He longed to feel Emma against his chest at once. To be near enough to feel her heart beat in rhythm with his. And never let her go again.
"As long as I'm here, you have nothing to worry about."
Emma drew in a sharp breath. "Ohh, Will, when you say things like that, it gets me every time, right here," she patted the area over her heart, which was pounding feverishly under her skin. "Because you genuinely care. No one has ever cared for me the way you do."
"What about Carl? I'm sure he cared for you." Right then, Will wished he could take the mention of Carl back. He was unsure whether Emma would be willing to discuss him or not, especially tonight. He used to talk openly to her about Terri, the ups and downs, seeking advice; Emma was his friendly and supportive ear; whether she would feel the same though, was a completely different matter.
Hearing Carl's name made Emma feel uneasy, their failed marriage still being a sore spot, but if Will and her were to start a relationship together, their exes were bound to be part of the conversation. "It was a different kind of caring. I guess you could say 'tough love'," she surmised. "His thoughts were in the right place; it was just his approach that made me miserable. And the fact that I wasn't really in love with him."
Emma could finally admit that to herself now. Saying it and meaning it was like comparing apples and oranges. And Emma knew how difficult it was for her to combine fruit. Although at some point, love must have been part of the Carl and Emma equation. Emphatically, it never measured up to the image in her head of how it was supposed to be.
I wasn't really in love with him. That was music to Will's ears. It was time. Time to say I love you.
"Emma, I – I want us to both be happy. And maybe this is too soon to say. But when I see you, I have to be near you. I want to be a part of your world, to know every little thing about you. I want to be there to help you through the tough times and celebrate the good."
Will whisked around to her side of the booth, clutching her hand in his, marveling in her rosy cheeks, the curve of her petite chin, that cute little dent in her nose. Emma was the most wonderful woman he had ever met and had no fear in letting her know.
"I love you, Emma. I've loved you for the longest time." The words tumbled out naturally.
He brushed a curl behind her ear, allowing his fingers to travel tenderly down her neck to her collarbone. She closed her eyes, the pleasant sensation overwhelming her. Will searched her sweet face, awaiting the response he anxiously wanted to hear.
Emma's eyelids flickered open, her eyes bright, yet clouded with concern. She gulped. Say it. Say it! "I – I," she trembled, "Will – I…"